#oh the stands are batshit

[joan-deactivated20230204]

blanket statement so far that everything people complained about wrt jojolion is the stuff i really actively like about it

[feverdreamsandlucidnightmares]

So how badly do we think it fucks with Andrew that he agreed to stop protecting Neil a few hours before Neil was kidnapped and tortured?

[poughkeepsies]

my beloved mutuals you are all doing yourselves a disservice by not giving kdramas and cdramas a chance. there's literally a show where a ghost king and the ex-leader of a spy organization who has three years left to live become so immediately obsessed with each other upon meeting that they adopt each other's adopted children and live together as a family. at one point the ex-spy leader gets tortured with meat hooks. he's such a pillow princess the ghost king threatens to leave him cause he keeps not doing any of the household chores. they keep selling their souls for each other. there's an entire political plot going on in the background with the stakes to tear down their world as they know and they just don't fucking care. they call each other their soulmate and there's an entire scene where all they do is look into each other's eyes and repeatedly say the other's name because it's good to have someone to call. chinese censorship doesn't allow them to be more explicit because showing gay people on tv is fucking illegal so they mouth "ai ni" which means "I love you" without audio instead. they're the ultimate battlefield couple. they're the biggest bastards in the world. they're childhood friends. they're immortal nightmares.

[unhinged-motogp-confessions]

Diggia looks like a younger version of Uccio wjo just frequents the gym more

.

[raedas]

man fandom really does hate aro and ace people huh.

[nonbinaryeddiekaspbrak]

hot take: proship and antiship are useless labels to perpetuate the idea that nuance either can or cannot exist in fiction.

spoiler: it does.

the idea that fiction can affect reality only goes so far and depends on so many different factors.

who's to say that fanfiction or media you see isn't from a place of trauma or internalized ideas? even if it's not, how do you know an offender's actions are based solely on that piece of media? how do you know if someone wasn't going to do something anyway, regardless of a media they encounter?

people don't owe you their trauma, and that includes if they write more sensitive or taboo topics.

plus, oftentimes, both glorified and realistic can be mixed on the internet, especially in fanfiction spaces, so it's unlikely a hypothetical kid will only find the fetishized violence or incest or whatever.

i'm not taking sides, to be clear, and this post is literally just fueled with the frustration of seeing the decline of media literacy, but like... at some point you have to remember people exist beyond that piece of media and you have no idea who they actually are, what they've been through, or even if they actually want or believe what they write or illustrate in their stories.

also, telling someone to kys over their media consumption is actually really not okay and i'm baffled that people think it's okay.

even if they aren't fueled by trauma, just block and move on? the number one rule for the internet is that you curate your own experience.

so curate your experience.

[pa-pa-plasma]

redditors are so fucking weird, sometimes they don't even know what hill they're dying on all they know is that they're gonna die on it for sure

[theonlycorrectcropinions]

Using healing magic is a consent violation letttttsssss goooooooo!

[bastsoldtrollblog]

i say zara is a bit of a loose cannon like darvai isn’t also

[shushmal]

The latest Family Video customer is barely through the door before Eddie explodes, "Ugh, Tyler."

Beside him, Steve scoffs in agreement, nose wrinkled with distaste. He's so hot. "Yeah, exactly, uugh."

"That should be his middle name. Ugh," Robin chimes in. Eddie's so glad they're in agreement about the bleach-spiked punk guy that graduated three years ago but is still bumming around Hawkins. "Steve, I can't believe you dated that guy."

Seriously, Tyler is the worst— Wait, what—?

"Wait," Eddie says, gaping at Robin. "What?"

"You could barely call it dating," Steve huffs.

"You were together for a month and a half," Robin says. She's got this evil grin on her face and is pointedly not looking at Eddie who is very desperate for Robin to look at him right now, please. "You drove that bum to Indy every weekend. He broke up with you on Valentine's day."

Eddie's weak "Tyler? Tyler Teaks?" gets completely ignored.

"I—" Steve says with haughty emphasis. "—broke up with him on Valentine's day. Don't get it twisted, Buckley."

Robin snorts and finally glances at Eddie. "Steve only broke up with him because the guy blew him off. On Valentine's Day. Which is basically getting broken up with," she tells him, and ignores it when Eddie whimpers at her.

"Yeah, but I'm the one to ended it!" Steve insits.

Eddie, finally, finds his voice, and says, "Tyler Teaks?! Harrington!"

"Ugh," Steve says, slumping against the counter. "I know." He cuts a glare over at Eddie after a moment. "I blame you for this."

"Me?!" Eddie shrieks, incredulous. He's pretty sure he's stepped into another parallel world. Perpendicular world? A world where Steve apparently dates guys—and guys like Tyler Teaks, no less. Eddie's sure he's gone completely batshit insane. "What the hell did I do?!"

Steve stands, cocking his hip the side, and looks down his handsome nose at Eddie. "You wouldn't be my New Year's kiss at Tina's party," he says. "So I had to settle for Tyler Teaks instead."

"What the fuck?" Eddie says, completely lost. "What—? You—? Tina—? KISS—?!"

Beside them, Robin is grinning, laughing, eyes going back and forth between them, munching on a stolen back of skittles—her own personal dramedy on stage before her.

"Yep," Steve says, popping the P. He looks distinctly bitter. "Pulled my best moves on you, and you turned me down."

"Steve," Eddie breathes. He reaches out, places both hands on Steve's shoulders, intent. The eye contact he forces Steve into is desperate. "I don't even remember getting to Tina's New Year's Party." He takes a deep breath. "I woke up in her mom's pantry the next morning with no shoes and no memory of how I got there."

Finally, Steve cracks, a big smile stretching his face. Robin cackles. "Yeah, I kind of figured as much," Steve sighs, wistful now. "You told me, and I quote, 'Steve Harrington, you are very beautiful and I want to have a summer wedding because you'd look beautiful-er with sunflowers'—"

"Don't forget the 'you look so hot in that sweater' part."

"—'But actually, I am a very straight man. So very super straight.' And then you crouched down on the floor and crawled away." Steve is biting his lip now to keep from laughing. Robin is not so nice. "Like I couldn't see you, and the handkerchief flagging in your pocket."

"Oh my god."

"Don't worry, it was really cute," Steve says, grinning. "But, I still needed a New Year's kiss, and unfortunately for everyone involved, Tyler was my only willing choice."

"Oh my god."

"Totally duped me though, he was super sweet the entire night," Steve sighs. His mouth is twisted into genuine regret now. "Plus, the next week, you acted like you'd never spoken to me before, so—"

"OH MY GOD."

Steve and Robin give him twin grimaces. Robin's is a lot more sympathetic. Steve's is confused. "Listen, man," Steve tries to soothe. "I'm sure that's pretty embarrassing, but it was a cute story! No hard feelings, I promise."

Robin's sympathetic grimace deepens.

"No," Eddie says, standing up straight. "I refuse. There is no way I turned down Steve Harrington for a New Year's kiss. There is no way."

"Wait—"

"Eddie, where—"

Eddie marches for the door, digging his keys out of his pockets. "Good-bye friends, I must go see a supergirl about time travel."

[nouvxllev]

Could you possibly do a story where Tara and Y/N get caught in the middle of fucking by Sam??

(Can be Tara x Fem!Reader, Gp!Tara x Fem!Reader, or Tara x Gp!Reader.)

my sister!?

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x GP!Reader

Summary: request!! ^^

Words: 4k

Warnings/tags: immediate smut, pretend the carpenters have a house and not a shared apartment in new york, protective sam carpenter!!!!!, no ghostface au

a/n: writers block is KILLING me, feelin like i cant write shit

masterlist.

An innocent study night with Tara was impossible.

"Tara—Tara, oh f-fuck, you're taking me so well..."

The sight of Tara beneath you should be a sin of its own; tears stinging her eyes locked on yours with mascara running down her cheeks, her soft, abused lipstick-stained lips parting for pathetic notes of moans and whimpers. Strands of hair lay in a mess on her mattress you relentlessly ruined her on every night she asked of you to.

Every sound she made drove you to closer to insanity, knowing you could worship her everyday for every sin you committed since meeting her. The way her body responded to the slightest thrust was intoxicating, addicting—so fucking addicting. Her fingers clutched on her sheets as if they could help her, knuckles turning white.

Tara's eyes fluttered open after rolling back in pure ecstasy, letting out soft moans with your cock fitting so right and full inside of her. She was barely holding out on her own, you were just so fucking hot and sexy like this, who could blame her?

"More," she cried, voice trembling while she wrapped her arms around your neck to bring you closer, "Please—Fuck! Y/n, y/n, please I—"

She moaned your name as if it was a prayer, her voice alone making your knees weak. Her body arched into yours, seeking more—always for more. Even with your hands steady on her hips, she moved with a mind of her own in her cock-drunk state.

Your grip on her waist tightened, fingers almost bruising her perfect, soft skin as you buried yourself deeper inside her. Her name fell shamelessly from your lips as you felt an aching knot forming in your stomach.

"Tara—I'm so... fuck, m' so close..." you breathed, pupils blown out as you locked eyes with her. Her eyes, everything about her was desperate, fuck, you both were.

Tara—breathless and spent from being so stretched—nodded frantically, her lips pathetically opening and closing almost immediately as if she could say anything other than your name and soft moans.

"Close.. close, too." She gulped, breath hitching, eyes rolling to the back of her head, feeling every inch of you so deliciously deep inside of her. "Fuck, don't stop!"

You were so close, so close to feeling Tara's walls clenching against you that could make every sense in your body go dumb fucking weak and numb, your name dangerously on the tip of her tongue while she goes onto levels higher than cloud 9 as you help her ride out her orgasm.

Close, Tara's so close, so close, fuck, fuck fuck—

When you came, Tara came down hard. Her figure perfectly arched as you rocked your hips back and forth inside of her, the both of you falling into silent moans and hot breaths.

"Tara... are you alright? Shit, Tara, you feel so goo..."

A door opened.

"What the fuck."

Sam. Carpenter. Standing.

You. Tara. On. Bed.

Sam Carpenter, Tara Carpenter. Carpenters.

You. Not Carpenter. Definitely not after today.

Sisters. Right-

FUCK.

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How batshit, totally and flat out embarrassing it would be to be caught having rough sex with your girlfriend in the middle of the night at her house when you're supposed to be studying?

No, it would be fine, very fine actually if it was one of the gang. Hell, you'd take Mindy or Chad any day opening the door to see you and Tara fucking around. You'd live with it and wear it like a fucking badge of honor.

If it wasn't her damn sister.

Sam already despised you for being Tara's girlfriend! You couldn't even hold her close for more than thirty seconds without Sam threatening to grab a hammer and bash your skull in.

What's even worse than that is how she led you both down stairs after awkwardly cleaning up and she's now pacing back and forth in front of the couch Sam pushed you on.

"Sam, you're being overdramatic, we're not those sex-obsessed teens that need counseling." Tara, arms crossed with an adorable pout (you'd defend that pout to your last breath), tackled before her sister could even say anything. "I'm 21 for fucks sake!"

"Oh, Tara, don't even get me started—You literally just turned into the legal drinking age two fucking weeks ago!" Sam stopped in her tracks, pointing at Tara with probably the most killer eyes a killer would kill.

"So—!?"

Sam cut her off before Tara could even say anything, her gaze now directed towards you. "And you," oh shit, you were in for it, "My sister!? That's very low of you, Y/n—"

"Oh, y/n was definitely going low on—"

"Yup, okay, no, stop—Tara." You quickly covered Tara's mouth with your hand before she could further damage your already very rocky relationship with Sam. Come on, you still wanted to be invited to Thanksgiving and Christmas!

"Sam." You took a deep breath, "I am truly sorry for… uhm… doing that. I know that you're being protective and I too would hang myself if I ever hurt Tara in anyway—"

"Mostly sexually." Tara chimed in the background, a shit-eating smirk on her face.

Sam tilted her head like some kind of horror movie scare, "Do you wanna explain what the fuck I just heard from my younger sister, y/n?"

"No, no! I haven't hurt Tara in that way, I swear—!"

"Probably because it felt so good."

You turned to Tara, face twisted for dear life, "Tara do you want my ass kicked or not!?"

Sadly for your long-lived lifespan, Sam was already towering over you.

"It was an accident, I promise, and I—!"

"So you just accidentally slipped and magically ended up being inside my sister for hours?"

Okay, maybe suicide really is the better option. How the fuck do you even respond to that!?

"I—" Fuck, shit, fuck, dick, how do you breathe!? "Well, I... I wouldn't phrase it like that—"

"You know the walls are thin?"

"Y..yes, I'm very sure and—"

"The whole damn house was barely holding up, I thought a fucking 9.8 magnitude earthquake started when I opened the door!"

"We... We are so sorry—"

"And you're also sure that I'd eventually slit your throat in half?"

"Sam, please, I really am s—"

"You know I have a fucking taser in my pocket? The only reason that's restraining me from using it because Tara's sees you as someone alright."

"...Uhm, sweet, but Sam—"

You would thank the heavens for such an assertive and a somehow kind of rebellious to her sisters wishes girlfriend by how Tara stood up so abruptly that a very poor and sad excuse of an excuse in your mind went away.

"You want an apology, Sam?" She tilted her head as she stepped forward, "I'll give you a fucking apology." You know, for a 5 foot nothing girl, she can definitely throw hands. Or words.

"We... are sorry. Actually, Y/n's—"

"Oh my god." You whined in the background.

"Y/n's very sorry for fucking—"

"Okay, no, stop." You interrupted immediately. Why the term!? Infront of her sister!?

"Having sex—!"

"No."

"Intercourse—!"

"No."

"Having... Having coitus—!"

"No, why the hell would you use that!?"

"Making love!"

"Best you could do."

"Y/n's very sorry for being so damn good making love to me in bed, making my mattress squeak louder than a fucking banshee with her cock ramming and giving me multiple orgasms that Danny can't even—!"

"Alllright, I'm stopping you before you get legally disowned at the age of 21" You grabbed Tara by her arms and lifted her up before your entire sex life with her comes tumbling down on your girlfriends sister.

The room was silent. Almost too silent, you swear you could go deaf if more than a second even passes by. Not even a rolling surge of tumbleweed could make it seem less awkward than it is. Even your dignity left.

That was until you heard Sam taking a deep breath.

Before you knew it, you were kicked out of the house with Tara's voice behind you literally defending by describing, in horrific detail, how good you were in bed until Sam shut her up.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The walk home was and felt downright shameful, even the traffic lights refused to turn green for you. It's like you have a bindle attached to your palms to forever ingrain the memory of Sam's face while you were literally inches deep in Tara.

You crash into your apartment a minute later after fiddling with your keys, not even bothering to take off your coat. You just collapse onto the atleast comfortable carpet floor and let the mites decompose your entire body.

But not even god himself can let you mellow in your own embarrassment, sadness, awkwardness—literally all of the above—without your phone ringing at one of the worst times in your life. Soon you'll hope it'll be seven trumpets.

You blinked from your spot on the floor. It was too good and too much effort to even sit up properly and take the call.

With a soft groan, you roll over like a ragdoll, fumbling for your phone deep in your pockets. You were ready to decline right there and there, or maybe be a dick and answer just to hang up a second later after swearing at them.

Until you saw the name Tara Carpenter with a heart emoji beside it.

Of course, against your better judgment, you answer. How could you not?

"Can you come over?"

Tara's soft voice whispers over the phone, you can almost picture her twisting and turning on her bed, fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

You sigh heavily, managing to croak out a response, "Tara... you know I can't—"

"Please?"

You swallow hard, heart pounding in your chest. She's using that voice that you're so sure could lead to you prison. You're just so glad you're not there in person to see her beautiful brown doe eyes.

You stand up abruptly, clearing your throat. "It's only been 30 minutes since Sam caught us and practically banished me from your home. How am I supposed to—"

"It’s like you’ve never snuck out before!"

"This time it’s serious, Tara! Pretty sure Sam literally hates my guts by now."

There's a pause that interrupts your thoughts, the line going completely silent, wondering if Tara got so irritated she actually hung up on you.

"...Tara?"

"I have windows." She responds, as if she's snapping her two fingers together, "You can sneak in through one."

You smiled. Of course she'd think of this now when all the times you've "snuck" in was through their door (surprisingly, it always worked in the middle of the night.)

"Thought Sam nailed them shut after hearing about a loose serial killer?"

"Found out it’s bullshit, just some teenagers having the trip to scare people for fun. Just—Please."

You roll your eyes, "Okay, well, I'm not going to risk my life—"

"You already are, I can hear you over the phone packing your shit."

Oh, how this girl knows you so well.

You zip up your bag while having your phone pinched between your ear and shoulder, "Yeah, see you in a bit."

The brunette chuckles over your words, you could already see her standing up and opening her window from the sounds you hear. Heavenly.

"Damn, you love me."

"Horribly. Say it back?"

"I will when you get here. Hurry, please."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It took a long while to reach the Carpenters' house and even longer to actually go up to Tara's window. Climbing a nearby tree and swinging over like Tarzan was a real pain in the ass.

When you finally reach her window, you see Tara lying on her bed, headphones blaring so loudly you can hear the music from outside, plus she's wearing an oversized graphic tee that you're pretty sure is yours.

"Tara!" you call out, knocking on the side of the wall, your shoes gripping the bricks as you wait for her to notice your figure clinging onto a roof for dear life just outside.

Tara doesn't hear you at first, courtesy of the headphones you bought her for her 18th birthday. You knocked a bit louder, but not too loud Sam suspects something.

You have half a mind to just go in unannounced when Tara finally looks up and immediately rushes over your side.

"You know, it's actually harsh to keep a girl wai—"

You were wrapped between her arms before you could even finish.

Tara's lips met yours in a way you melt instantly beneath her breathless, parting her lips and tilting her head to give herself better access inside of you.

She's soft in your arms, yet so eager by how she's gripping the collar of your shirt and pulling you as if you could be any more entwined.

"You kept me waiting." She breaks only to whisper, words coming in a rasp with her breath hot on your lips as she draws you in for more of her.

You're dizzy, hazed, intoxicated, completely fucked by how her tongue presses on yours so painfully heavenly and her teeth nibbling on your bottom lip. You could stumble around your words if she let you to speak. Your hands could go nowhere but on their perfect place on her waist.

Her fingers trail against your skin, tangling within the strands of hair only to pull you more closer to her, forcing your head to tilt at an angle that could make her invade all the right places inside of you.

You sigh in her mouth before regrettably pushing her away, "You wanted to see me?"

Tara's lips curve as she she presses herself against you, her hands traveling from your chest to your face, brushing her fingers gently against your cheek. The mere motion sending cold shivers down your spine that reminds you of your cock slowly growing beneath layers of fabric.

"Fuck that, I needed you." She murmurs, your heart running faster than the way her breathing goes after making out with you. Her hands seemingly wanting nothing more than to roam over your body, tracing all the way down to palm your growing erection underneath your shorts.

A low groan escaped your lips, yours hands finding their way down to softly cup the curve of her ass. "Tara please, don't..."

"Hm," she hums softly, brown eyes filled with nothing but lost gazing directly at your own, "You know I can't resist you, especially when I have you like this," Her voice is teasing. Tantalizing, even, marked with an innocent smile on her face as if she's not an inch away of giving you a handjob.

A chaste peck on your lips was enough for you to spiral and your dick to throb from its clothed prison, her fingers tracing lazy circles around your cock until she stopped at the dip of the waistbands of your shorts.

"You wanna fuck me first, or should I take the lead?"

Your mind raced, cock twitching from her voice alone, words spent while your breathing was anything but calm, pupils blown out and dilated as you looked at the brunette. But there's only one answer that she needed from you.

Without a word, your hands slid under her thighs, effortlessly lifting her up from the floor and straddling her figure down to her ass at your arms, earning a startled hum from the girl.

Her arms went around your neck, one hand trailing from your nape to the strands of your hair, pulling your head closer to her, meeting your lips in an immediate kiss that had Tara moaning and desperately bucking her hips.

You carried her to bed with her legs wrapped tightly around your waist while her hands lingered on your neck, fingers delicately tracing your jawline while she ravished your mouth alone.

Tara was sloppy with you, kisses so wet and desperate, her tongue exploring every inch of your mouth. She was filthy by how she gazed at you with eyes as if she was innocent, how she let her fingers roam your body in all the right places that had your dick leaking.

With a soft groan, you laid her down on the bed, your hands moving to grip her hips as she continued to explore your mouth, not once did she pull away. Not even to spare a breath.

But, you surrendered to her, pulling her away with a string of saliva connecting your lips together.

Fuck, she looked divine.

A sight you always saw in the middle of the night, yet not even the light could take you away from her. Lips stained with mixed saliva from the both of you. Even with your own inches away, her lips stay parted as she pants for air.

It took you a while before you even noticed Tara and you were completely naked, the small girl revealing to be wearing nothing the whole time you were there.

"Shit, Tara. You were wearing nothing but my shirt?" You rasped, breathing heavily while you placed your arms in between her head to push yourself up.

She smiled, chuckled even as she looked at you, hands traveling from your neck down to your chest, "You know I love putting on a show for you, baby." She winked as her fingers ghosted over your nipples, touch so warm and delicate before sliding lower, tracing the lines of your abs. "Fuck, you're so hot like this."

You shivered underneath her touch, even forgetting you were the one who brought her to such a state, yet you were the one who looked pathetic. Whining and completely whimpering on top of her.

You swallow hard, trying to maintain even the slightest bit of dignity and control. "Tara," you whisper, "You're driving me crazy."

She giggles softly, "Good," she murmurs before grasping your wrist and guiding your hand to the waistband of your shorts. "That's exactly what I want to do. Just fuck me, please."

You couldn't hold back any longer as you pulled down your shorts, boxers sliding down your waist as your aching cock springing out, slapping against your chest while it stood tall and hard for seven inches.

Your hand slipped between your bodies to grasp the throbbing length, tip dripping with pre-cum as your thumb grazed over the slit. "Wanna see how good you take me, Tara." You wrapped your fingers around your cock, stroking it up and down as you guided it along her slick folds. "Fuck, you're soaked."

"Stop… Stop teasing, please, oH GOD!"

Tara's hands frantically had a tight grip on your shoulders as you shoved every inch of you inside of her, breath erratic as she tried to suppress every moan down in her throat, her back arching off the bed as you penetrated her so deep

The intense stretch made her eyes flutter open, rolling into the back of head, letting out tears from the pain as her toes curled in pleasure.

You weren't holding up either, she took you so well, her red velvety and slick walls tightening around your cock drove you into a haze. Her nails leaving red marks in their wake on your back, the atmosphere filled with the sounds of skin against skin, gasps and moans of pleasure from Tara increasingly getting louder.

"F-fuck… Oh, fuck!" She gasped, moving her hips to the rhythm of her trusts as you grabbed both of her legs and pulled her closer to you, "Yeah.. Yeah, right there baby!"

All you could think about were her soft moans, face crying from a mixture of pain and pleasure from being stuffed to the brim, keeping a steady pace that had her a moaning mess on your hands.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You know, Sam always had weird dreams. Weirder than the next, gory than anything from the amount of horror movies she watched along with her younger sister, Tara.

Anything you could do to Sam, she would barely give one or two fucks. Scary movie? More of a boring sit-com that tries to give characters motive and plot some development. Jumpscare her? Reality or movies, either way, you're getting a jumpscare yourself by a hospital bill after she's done with you.

She fears nothing. Except when she woke up just now, hearing her younger sisters voice down the hallway from her room.

Oh my fucking, GOD.

She hopes it'll be a dream, she'd take anything but this. Ever since Tara got a girlfriend, you were nothing but a pain in the ass for her. I mean, she trusts you, sure, but not that enough.

The older Carpenter gets up almost immediately, eyebrows furrowed while her heart heaved with anger. And most probably wrath, and an apology to Tara if she ever found out that her girlfriend was bashed on the skull by her sister.

Every walk she made, the noises got louder yet softer. By the time she was at her door, the noises dropped. Was it all a dream? A nightmare maybe? She'd take that any day.

"Tara!" She yelled out as she took notice of the light illuminating on the creaks of her room., softly knocking on her door. Even if you were there, it's still a 50/50 chance that Tara's actually sleeping. Or sleepwalking even.

She waits for a second.

Then two.

Three.

Four—Okay, no, she's opening the damn door.

She turns the doorknob and immediately bursts into the room. Her eyes scanning the space for any signs of you.

There doesn't seem to be anything.

Her eyes immediately spotted Tara. Or maybe half of her peeking out of the soft blanket with a pillow in between her legs. The only thing that seemed out of place was her window open.

She was about to move a lazy strand of hair away from her face, her hand was already hovering over her body. That was until Tara moved on her own. Murmuring something about some TV show. Or a cinema date, whatever it is that involved your godforsaken name.

"Thank God, that scared me." Sam whispered to herself before going over to Tara's bed, eyes still wandering over Tara's sleeping (?) face before standing up and leaving the room.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You popped out of the blanket that was covering both you and Tara after giving her one of the best orgasms she's ever had. But the heart attack you both experienced when you heard Sam's footsteps was not fucking it!

A tense breath escapes your lips, relief flooding through you as you look at Tara, post-orgasm. Her eyes are dazed, a silly smile adorning her face.

"Tara, seriously, do you never lock your doors?" you whisper to her, arms sliding on her back to flip the both of you over. Your hands cupping her cheeks, trailing her jawline while you tucked a strand of hair behind her ears.

Tara's laughter rings out softly in the quiet, her cheeks flushed with her chest heaving. There was always something you loved about her smile, her laugh. Sure it was because it was like a taste of heaven as some pathetic human, but… Dimples. Dim-fucking-ples.

She rolls her eyes, letting her head fall on your collarbone. "I have Sam Carpenter in my bloodline, it's pointless."

"Don't be so hard on her." You stroke her hair gently, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "She's just looking out for you," you remind her, tone soft with understanding.

She sighs against your skin. "She's overdoing it. Like, I can throw a punch. Did you not see the fight I pulled with that dick from a party in the middle of nowhere may I remind you? I could've sworn Mindy sent the video to you!"

"Yeah Tara, but you're also an A24 chick who could memorize the full script of The Babadook, I love you for it baby." You laughed. "But Sam is just looking out for you. Especially me, I literally just fucked her sister in her house."

Tara looks up at you. Batting her eyelashes and smirking while she tilted her head, planting a chaste kiss near your lips, but not near enough you could taste her. "And you fucked her so well."

"We are not having another round, Tara."

"You know me so well it's fucking irritating. Can you just not?" She scoffs, but only playfully.

"But you actually should lock them, it's a safety hazard."

"Mhm, and you should let me ride you." She turns to the side, falling over your body, her hands tracing the soft dips and your toned abs.

"After that heart attack? No, Tara."

"Yeah?" She cocked her head, "Then why not give me more reasons why you're still hard."

"Oh..." You looked down. Fuck, you are. "Oh, fuck you."

"I'm hoping you will."

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head before turning to her side, "By the way, you never said the thing."

She wrapped her arms around your body as you faced her. "Oh, what thing this time, baby?"

You sigh.

"I love you."

Tara laughs. She knew what you wanted.

"I love you too."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: im back!

[anantaru]

DAY 31 — drunk sex

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

a/n. hello loves! this concludes the last day of my kinktober, thank you so much to everyone who read along and supported my stuff <3 it means a lot to me and I had so much fun!! after taking a day off, i will post three bonus kinks that will be posted from the 2nd-4th november, that's all and i love you all — yoru <3

𖧡 — including — kazuha, venti

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, drunk syx, teasing venti & dom venti, wall syx, touch starved, both parties are consenting

𖧡 — KAZUHA

sometimes you forget that even kazuha can be defenseless against alcohol and it's negative reactions on the body, let alone make yourself join him in order to watch out for your boyfriend which wasn't originally that big of a deal— despite both of you now, being batshit drunk, randomly lost outside a dark alleyway and essentially starved for each others touch.

"so cute," kazuha coos and hiccups against your lips, "please, voice your pleasure out to me, i yearn to hear you."

to your surprise, it was a miracle that you both were even able to stand tall with all the alcohol you had consumed earlier running through your veins, and well, the truth was— you haven't seen each other for a while, and what better way was there to catch up on your lives with a couple glasses of dandelion wine accompanying adventurous stories and daily activities.

kazuha eagerly pulls at your bottom lip between his teeth as he whines when you suddenly pull yourself away, "come back," he pouts, "one more, heh, ’please," attempting to kiss you again as you dodge him flawlessly.

yet, he wouldn't be sad for too long— because you see, you could barely wait to feel him as well, not just those small, hasty kisses he would plant on you, but the real thing, the one you missed dearly as you turn your body around so your back could face him, your plush ass greedily wiggling over his rigid erection and drawing a low grumble out of his chest.

oh my, you're just so desperate, and kazuha doesn't even try to conceal his excitement when he flips your skirt up, followed by dragging your slicked panties down so they could clumsily dangle around your knees. so now, as he fists his erection in his palm, gathering his pre cum over his shaft so he wouldn't hurt you upon entering your warmth, you bite back a whimper when he nudges his cockhead against your hole before slowly entering you.

"baby," you pant, "hurry, please more," his painfully red and swollen cock gradually filling you up as your own body grows on hotness, almost feeling as if set on fire when the cold wall you were being pressed against served as an easy way to cool yourself off.

kazuha sighs blissfully as he can finally, finally feel you again, he just missed you so much it practically burned his heart to be apart from you for such a long period of time, his head although ringing, the lingering scent of wine hovering between your bodies when everything appears as if trapped in a blur.

one hand, wraps around your waist while the other presses close to the cold wall to keep his stability, or well, both of your stabilities.

if anything, both of you would die of embarrassment tomorrow that you even had the audacity to fuck outside, shamelessly yearning for those shallow thrusts of his hips smacking against your plush ass that would drive you into absolute madness with unfaltering greed and begs to feel him even quicker, better and finer, his cock rolling in and out of your wet cunt and sending tingles down your spine, your legs wobbly and your erected nipples harshly brushing against the cold wall.

𖧡 — VENTI

there was a sonata playing in your head on repeat, and at first— you wonder where it came from, then remember that you must've picked it up during the past hours of drowning yourself in booze together with venti happily joining you— and everything started out pretty innocent, in fact, you never really seemed to have looked at him for much longer than two seconds, aside from joyfully listening and humming along to his songs whenever he performed at the angels share.

groaning deeply, venti sloppily kisses your lips while fisting his semi hard erection into the little tunnel of his palm— and again, you curse yourself that you have never admired him from up close, despite the fact that your own vision was blurry, your head slightly spinning as you watch every curve and ridge of venti's solid abs tense and let go in tune with his cock rutting into his hand.

although he too, lets his eyes follow down your body and looks at your glossed up folds drenched in your own slick, your legs parted so he could settle himself in between, "I bet you're so soft," venti slurrs happily, moving forward to roll the leaking tip of his cock across your folds as you flinch at the feeling, pulling out a strangled sound that scratched over the back of your throat.

"you know," he starts, shamelessly nudging his tip over your fluttering hole— so shameless, in fact that you're wondering if it was just the alcohol making him exceptionally confident right now or if he's always like that, taking into consideration that the bard was treating himself to quite the amount of liquor day by day.

"i will admit... i never had the guts to speak to you," he cackles, practically admitting that he was harboring at least something for you, which, truthfully made you let out a surprised gasp— although you haven't thought about venti in such ways before, you were finding yourself drawn to him for whatever reason, it's almost like something divine would pull you to him whenever he performed songs that you considered your favorites.

"you— uh, really?" you breathe and swallow hard, and next thing you know he slides himself in without warning, huffing out a strangled groan as your wet warmth instantly envelopes around his shaft, rolling his hips all the way inside so he could grind against your neglected clit.

"venti!" you whine, "don't just— do that!" bucking your hips as he drapes his body on top of yours, your slick oozing out and wrapping around his shaft. but he grins slyly at you, slamming his dripping length into you as your wet heat clung onto him, your arms folded around his chest so you could whine and sob into his neck.

"me? do what?" feigning innocence, he reaches up to squeeze one breast, and the sight of you enjoying how he pumps his thickness into you was intoxicating, so erotic that he violently twitches inside your tight hole.

"oh, silly!" he continues, "you're so cute, with your mouth open, looking all desperate!" and before you can even answer to that, he pulls you in for a sloppy kiss, his harsh thrusts making you moan into his mouth as he skillfully inches back and forth your tight cunt.

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[cold-kitty]

Remember the Yandere Neuvillette fic? Well you know that one meme that goes like "I have two sides"? That's how I am with Neuvillette. On one hand, I like to think of him as the sweet goober that was in that fic. On the other hand? Well...

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Contains: NSFW (not with darling), murder (not darling), Neuvillette is quite literally insane, Neuvillette is slightly rough with darling (not sexually), abuse of power, mentions of kidnapping, stealing darlings things, Neuvillette has masochistic tendencies

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yan!Neuvillette who hires you as an assistant. you tidy up a bit, bring him things he needs, just normal things.

Yan!Neuvillette who stares at you, stares. he only works half of the day, the rest of that time is spent staring at you.

Yan!Neuvillette who will invite you to lunch everyday, insisting that he pays even though you want to. oh don't worry, it's not like it's a date. even though it should be...

Yan!Neuvillette who will steal your used napkins, spoons/forks/chopsticks, leftovers, anything that you've touched or put your mouth on.

Yan!Neuvillette who takes those things home with him, swiping the saliva off of them and is immediately tugging down his pants.

Yan!Neuvillette who is definitely physical with you. hugs, patting your head, hooking your arm in his, standing a little too close to you, etc.. but he's very insistent with it, and he doesn't care if you turn down the offer, it only makes him squeeze you harder than usual (which is abnormally hard for someone who's supposed to be platonic with you).

Yan!Neuvillette definitely swipes some of your clothes, gaslighting you that you didn't wear it. gloves? no silly, you didn't wear any.

Yan!Neuvillette who also finds the cologne you use, spraying it on all over his room, especially his pillow.

Yan!Neuvillette is a pillow fucker 100%, his pillow is constantly nestled between his plush thighs as his hips move feverishly against it.

Yan!Neuvillette who talks to his pillow, pretending it's you. begging it, whining with it, holding it as if it were a person. p-please love- ngh... please please please i wanna cum, please- darling please l-let me- hah- cum...

Yan!Neuvillette who has fantasies of you randomly bending him over his desk, ripping his clothes apart and absolutely ravaging him.

Yan!Neuvillette who has a certain ache for pain with you. slap him, kick him, hit him, bite him, strangle him, he'd even let you cut him for Christ's sake. make him bleed and cry, bruise him and make him sore. anything that you do is ecstasy for him, and he would love you to have power over him like that.

Yan!Neuvillette who goes batshit feral when you're affectionate with someone. teeth gritted, body twitching, eyes wide with rage, but he would never ever do anything to hurt you, so he simply slits the persons throat.

Yan!Neuvillette who will quite literally tweak the law just so he can have an advantage, making loopholes so he can legally kidnap you. the government doesn't even need to know, he'll just change it whenever he wants.

Yan!Neuvillette who will stop at absolutely nothing to have you, he'll kidnap you, blackmail you, threaten people you love, anything.

Yan!Neuvillette who - if pushed to this point - will accuse you of a crime and label you guilty, sentencing you to 'behavior correction' with him for the next year.

Yan!Neuvillette who really, really doesn't like the look on your face when he takes you to his home, as much as he likes having power over you, it makes him feel sick. you're crying, begging him to understand that you haven't done anything wrong, that you were framed.

Yan!Neuvillette who won't hurt you unless you try to run away, and even then it's only a few smacks on the back with a wooden paddle. he hates your tears.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There are only two Yandere Neuvillette's (in my opinion), the sweet baby from the first fic, and whatever rabies infested rat this is.

~🐈‍⬛

[yxngbxkkie]

klutz (l.k)

i found a prompt list of confessions and found one that was perfect for our cat man, minho! it's pretty cute, and i hope you all like it 🩷

feedback is greatly appreciated 🥰

~

“Y/N?” Hyunjin questions as soon as he opens the door to the practice room.

You greet him with a smile while walking into the room. “Hey, I'm sorry for interrupting,” you mention, glancing towards the couches. “Is Minho around?”

Hyunjin laughs, combing a hand through his sweaty hair. “He isn't, no. You just missed him,” he explains, moving to sit on the couch.

“Shit,” you curse, sitting down beside him.

“You okay? What's wrong?” He asks you, furrowing his brows in concern. “He'll probably be back in half an hour. We're just taking a quick break.”

You nod your head, leaning back against the wall. “Yeah, I'm okay. I just… locked myself out of our apartment,” you say embarrassingly.

Hyunjin chuckles, and he shakes his head. “I'm not surprised, I'm sorry,” he continues to chuckle, dropping his gaze to the floor.

You wave a hand and giggle as well. “I could've sworn that I grabbed my keys,” you shake your head before glancing towards the member. “What choreo are you guys working on today?”

He hums for a quick second before answering your question. “Min and I are trying to perfect the God's Menu choreography,” he responds, standing up.

“You're still fiddling with it?” You ask in surprise, remembering Minho mentioned that they almost perfected it a couple of weeks ago.

“Yeah. You wanna learn?” Hyunjin smirks, holding a hand out to you.

“Oh, God,” you laugh, not sure if that's a smart idea. Your dancing skills are non-existent, and you're not sure if you're well balanced enough for their choreographies. “I don't know, Hyunjin.”

He leans back and releases a loud groan. “Come on! Just a small bit! I'll be here in case you trip!” He tries to convince you, grabbing your wrist, shaking your arm.

You gently bite your lip, thinking the idea over. Hyunjin pulls you up from the couch, dragging you to the middle of the room. “Fine, fine,” you decide to agree, knowing he won't stop being persistent.

The two of you spend ten minutes going over bits and pieces of the choreography. You watch him carefully as he goes over it once more.

“Okay, I think I got it,” you tell him with a smile.

Hyunjin provides two thumbs up before rushing towards the computer. He presses play, moving back to stand by your side. You grow excited, hoping that you won't look stupid while doing it.

You're good with hand movements. The one thing you're worried about is your feet. You're a bit of a klutz, and Minho's reminded you of it multiple times.

Just as the two of you finish the hook, your ankle rolls. A pained cry escapes your lips as you fall to the floor. “Shit,” you curse to yourself, feeling your ankle throb.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” Hyunjin rushes to your side, kneeling on the floor.

You nod your head, and the door to the practice room opens before you're able to say anything else. Minho's eyes meet yours before widening.

“What happened?” He asked Hyunjin while joining the two of you.

Minho kneels in front of you, his hand hovering over your ankle. “I rolled it,” you inform him, tilting your head back at the pain.

“I can’t leave you alone for one second without you hurting yourself, can I?” Minho mentions, shaking his head.

You chuckle lightly. Hyunjin pats Minho on the back and tells him he'll go get an ice pack. The dance room fills with silence, your roommate gently moving your ankle around.

You softly call his name, causing him to lift his head. “I’m fine, so it’s okay—”

“No, it’s not okay. Not when I feel like I’m going to go batshit fucking crazy, thinking you’ve hurt yourself,” Minho sighs, sitting back on his heels.

You press your lips together, shocked to know that's how he feels. You reach a hand out, gently grabbing one of his. “Hey,” you whisper, tugging him towards you. “I'm okay. It's just a sprain.”

Minho laces his fingers with yours and squeezes your hand. “Now it's a sprain. What about next time?” He asks you, his thumb stroking the back of your hand.

“Well, then you'll be here to take care of me,” you nudge him, trying to lighten his mood.

He scoffs, a breathy laugh coming from him after. “You're lucky that you're cute,” he tells you with a smile, slowly bringing your conjoined hand to his lips.

Your breath hitches in your throat when he gently kisses your hand. You slip your hand from his hold, bringing it to his cheek. Minho's eyes meet yours as you scoot closer to him.

“You're pretty cute, too,” you whisper before closing the distance between your faces.

His lips are so soft on yours. The hand on his cheeks moves into his hair, combing your fingers through it. Minho wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you even closer to him.

“I got the ice—” Hyunjin cuts himself off at the scene in front of him.

Minho pulls away from you to glance towards the younger member. “Thank you,” he tells Hyunjin, not bothering about mentioning what he saw.

He nods his head, handing him the ice pack before leaving again. Both you and Minho feel embarrassed as you notice how red the tips of his ears are.

“No more dancing, okay?” Minho mumbles while placing the ice pack on your ankle. You nod your head in response, and you find yourself staring at his lips.

“Hey,” you gain his attention, fiddling with his shirt. His gaze finds yours, and you smile at him fondly. “You wanna get dinner?”

The corner of his lips turn up as Minho fully lifts his head. “Are you asking me out?” He questions with a raised brow.

You giggle and lean forward to press a kiss on his cheek. “Yes, I am.”

~

tagging: @strawboorybunny @reddesert-healourblues @spacegirlstuff @moon0fthenight @foxinnie8 @like-a-diamondinthesky @prettymiye0n

[i-cant-sing]

Hmmm I could get tired over any fandom but.... batfam???? Yall would never see me tired of talking about them.

Like think just how absolutely batshit crazy they'd go if reader fractures her limb or something. Maybe reader like slips off the stairs or falls from a swing or something, and the batfam- they have to watch it all happen in slow motion, and nothing- there's absolutely nothing they can do to help you. It's scarring for Dick to watch the color drain from your face as you drip to the ground. It's scarring for Jason to hear the nasty crack as your bone bends in an ugly handle. It's scarring for Tim to hear you scream in pain. It's scarring for Damian to see the blood pour out of your body. And it's oh so heart wrenching for Bruce to hear you cry into his chest as he carries you to Alfred to get your cast done.... how hopeless he felt, unable to soothe your pain.

But things only seem to go even more downhill from there. As you recover, the family has silently decided to double down on their paranoia and be even more coddling and protective of you. You wanna walk down the stairs? Nope, here comes big bro Jason to hold your hand- or better yet, carry you around in his arms. Why risk you even tripping over air?

Wanna get something from the top shelf? Stand back, dont need the shelf or something heavy falling over your head and cracking your skull open. Let Dick pull the cookie jar down for you- but why are you even eating cookies this late???? You need to get some healthy nutrients in you, lest you should have weak frail bones. Heres your broccoli.

Wanna play video games or go on socials? Well, no more! Dont need you getting influenced by the violent storylines and bad news from around the world- Tim wouldnt your mental health to be affected. If you really want, you can use his laptop... under his supervision.

What the fuck do you think youre doing staying up past your bedtime? What do you mean youre too old to have a bedtime???? Get your ass back in bed before Damian drags you back like a gremlin and REMINDS you of the bedtime he has set for YOU, because he doesnt need you becoming an insomniac and turning insane. He will not be the one to bust you out of Arkham asylum (he absolutely would, but hed be complaining all the way) just because you decided you didnt need your 10 hours of sleep!

Wanna go to your therapist? Well, you cant cause he suddenly moved far away and every other therapist in gotham is a maniac in disguise. Bruce doesnt get why you cant just talk to him about your feelings??? Dont you trust him? Your dear father, the very man whod hold you in his arms and shield you from the scary lightening when you were young? The very man who you would ramble on to about everything and anything, including tattling on Damian locking you in his room and throwing a tantrum when Jason took you away when you were all kids? You can tell him anything sweetie, even if you wanna bitch about the batfam... it'll hurt a bit, but hed be okay (absolutely has big sad eyes when you tell him how everyones just too suffocating for you and you wanna leave them)

[ellstronaut]

I’M ONLY A FOOL FOR YOU

thinking about Ellie singing this while having a messy situationship with you

it’s a constant battle of hot and cold, a dangerous dance between love and lust. some days she can’t even stand the sight of you, pretty but messy all the while—yet other times she can’t get enough—

how is it that you’re both confident and insecure, cold yet warm? a walking paradox wrapped up in the sweetest deception — you drive her to the brink of insanity, pushing her emotions to the extreme, leaving her in turmoil, desperately grappling for balance amidst the whirlwind of your presence

she hates how she can’t get you out of her head —hates how you linger like a bittersweet aftertaste. tries to be strong, tells herself it’s just physical, just pleasure, but the truth is you’ve woven yourself into her thoughts

because every time she walks away, every goddamn time, she’s sucked helplessly into your gravitational pull. it’s infuriating and exhilarating as it is addicting. but she craves it, hates it, and hates herself even more for it

hooked on your touch, the way you take care of her even if it’s to a fault. every time you kiss her, she loses all sense of restraint. every time you press your body against hers, closer and closer, skin tingling where your fingers wander

lower and lower—it’s a reckless freefall, a storm of sensations

you’re so casual about it

“so fuckin’ pretty el”

“s-sorry”

“dont be”

so unapologetic, and she’s caught off guard how effortlessly the words slip out your tongue, a mixture of pride, desire—

“you’re such a dick,” she’d mumble, a hint of annoyance. contrasting greatly with the way her body responds to you. the slight crack in her voice, a shiver of vulnerability that belies her flustered state, heart pulsing at your praise—secretly wanting to hear you say it again, because honestly? beneath her tough exterior she craves validation only you can give.

“good girl”

it makes her weak—every. single. time; the deep, smooth drawl of your voice, so firm so authoritative, so drunk

or when you gently stroke her hair — every time your fingers thread between her messy auburn locks, the shiver that shoots down her spine. every stroke, every curl—slow and tender, she can feel it, and for a moment you’re taking care of something delicate—

precious

it drives her batshit crazy. the power you hold over her, that in a matter of seconds you can reduce her to a shuddering mess, half flustered, the other half just incredibly, foolishly turned on

“don’t,” she’d warn

a weak protest, you both know it, she’d see the way the corners of your mouth turn into an impish grin, smug bastard you are—ugh.

“don’t what, baby?” you’d ask, voice low, sultry, a tad bit dangerous

“stop,” she’d try again, voice lacking conviction. you can tell she’s torn between resisting and giving in, between her ego and this pathetic desire for you to continue

“why should i?” you’d say, a teasing tone. one hand settled just above the band of her shorts, the other reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from her face, your touch feather-light yet oh-so-intimate

breath catching. body arching, you’re so crazy observant, gingerly stroking the faint scar on her upper lip, kissing her there would be cruel, to suckle, leave a mark, this territorial need to brand her—

the thought crosses your mind,

to claim her, make her yours in that primal way. it’s an impulse, a possessiveness you can’t fully explain. she’s so beautiful, so perfect — and yet there’s something about knowing that someone else might’ve left a mark on her, some other fool who had the pleasure of kissing her, caressing her pretty pretty skin

stirs something within you

you don’t like it

ignites this animalistic feeling. a need to protect, to erase any evidence of anyone else’s hands on her body, replace it with your own touch, your own taste, your own name on her pretty pretty lips.

“look at me” you instruct, chin angled up to meet your gaze. a feral edge to your voice, a hunger that can’t be ignored. fingers wedged between her thighs, inching closer and closer towards that sweet spot. her body tensing, shaky little gasps, the tension between you almost palpable—

this idea of being the only one who gets to see her like this, vulnerable and needy and aching— it’s the only thing keeping you from losing your damn mind right—this insatiable desire to make her writhe and whimper, to make her feel things—consumes you to the brim,

it takes all of your restraint not to sink your teeth into her skin

she wants to tell you off, tell you to keep your hands to yourself for once, but the words get stuck in her throat.

so your hands move over her like you’re mapping every dip every curve. that you’ve memorised every inch, they’re gentle but firm, teasing yet tantalizing—a relentless assault on her senses

because making her cum

isn’t a chore, unravelling her in the most intimate way is your favourite game. every move on your part calculated, designed to drive her over the edge, to toy with her. no, you revel in it. it’s a challenge, an art you’ve mastered. you know exactly how to touch her, where to press and kiss, to slow down, when to speed up. it’s a slow, delicious game and she’s

so, so helpless

and so so reactive

the sound of her moans and gasps, the way your name quivers from her lips; a desperate plea.

but even then, the fights still leave her chest hollow, aching, and the silence that follows? the cold shoulder you give her? leave her reeling and desperate for comfort, any semblance of closure you know damn well you’re not willing to give her

hurts

a bone-deep ache that settles in her chest, just another reminder of how complicated things are between you—how complicated you are

it’s the way you shut her out, sweet one minute, like ice the next. she’s tired of it, tired of your flaky ass moods, the way you shut her out when you’re mad.

consistency, a normal relationship, is that too much to ask? but you just can’t seem to give her that can you?

no matter how badly she craves your attention—how good it feels being this close, there’s always repercussions. always stupid shit to argue over then apologise profusely weeks later. you blame it on your zodiac, or some stupid-self-diagnosed-shit-like-avoidant-attachment-style

she knows you’re deflecting, its easier to blame your actions on stupid shit like the stars than your own mistakes and shortcomings. and yet, she can’t help but want you. it would be oh-so easy to walk away, find someone who can offer her stability

normalcy

which only makes the pain all too real. it’s maddening, the way you make her feel. how can someone be so infuriatingly wonderful? cruel, loving, passionate

yet she can’t even bring herself to face the truth

cause fuck being vulnerable

that shit hurts

caring too much fuckin hurts

@bonnibelblanca