RESIDENT EVIL

james: sneezes once

also james: “moony you have to name your firstborn after me. james jr deserves to live on.”

james potter the type to shrug of physical injuries (broken bones, broken rips, …), but act like it’s his last day on earth when a mild cold hits him

FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY'S

𓂃 ࣪˖༉‧₊˚.

MICHAEL AFTON

delicate frames — fluff, one shot.

unpacking silence. — angst, one shot.

𓂃 ࣪˖༉‧₊˚.

WILLIAM AFTON

nathans life after jail would be chaotic mess (bro still has scrawny ass, something that will never change)

kate's future daughter, someone stuck gum in her hair during the school bus ride, the cycle of bullying goes on and on-

her daughter will be reminded of her own past i think it would be brutal to see her child go through the same pain she suffered

shed probably go with "i do understand more than u know" and wont bring up her ugly past bcs her daughter still too young to understand so she'll just comfort her instead

my kokoro is itai :(

i cant stop thinking about heavyyyy masochist nogogglesvincible like i already know that man LOVES getting slapped and degraded and it just turns him on even more. god i need that freak 🙂‍↕️

oh absolutely. this freak is definitely a switch all the way through. him and his version of reader have a weird relationship that nobody bothers to question. it started out as hate fucking at first, and then it turns into reader being the only one he can get it on with. it’s an unusual attachment, really, like a stray cat latching onto a random stranger and following them around. it’s not sweet. . . but it’s not all hate either. whenever he tops, he likes to admire the scratches left on his shoulders and back in the mirror. when he bottoms, he eggs them on to choke him, bite at him, curse him while his eyes roll into the back of his head at the feeling. he is such a LOSERRR UGH

I CANNOT stop thinking about getting pounded against the wall by pyramid head, the only thing keeping you still against it so you don't fall is his big strong hand choking your neck soo tight that you could barely even breathe while your leg is wrapped around his hips and he's pistoling his fat veiny cock so deep inside of you with every hard thrusts, his tip kissing your cervix and exploring your tight walls with every rut of his hips against you, oh and it's big, it's long and so fucking thick it stretches your cunt so wide and open around him. He fucking ruins you and obliterates your poor little hole for anyone else that's gonna have you next so the only thing that your pussy would be useful and good for is his cock and his cock only, that's how much he stretches you and craves your hole, into a perfect match for his girth.

You're moaning and screaming but what's the point? It's not like anyone can hear you, you should’ve never let your curiosity get the best of you because who knows? Maybe no one is ever gonna see you again because he's gonna keep you there with him and fuck you and use your (his) tight hole whenever he fucking wants and feels like it to please himself, your his little plaything now, his little cum dump to fuck and fill with his load over and over again.

ʚoɞ

NSFW CONTENT BELOW

he’s such a hard worker. he’s got to get this flavor just right, has to keep making adjustments so you’ll absolutely love it. he’s so focused, and there’s a certain determination to him. his hands were sticky and sugary when he wrapped them around your waist. it’s cute to see him try to be so careful about touching you, trying his best not to get sugar everywhere. he’s got some of it on his apron. it got on your skin too, but you don’t mind.

he pulls away just for a moment, and you’re able to watch his face this time. his face is flushed, sugar and white chocolate staining his lips and face. his lips look so pretty, his cheeks are soft pink, and his eyes are hazy. “gotta get it just right.” he manages to say before he’s diving back in again to get another taste.

your soft thighs jerk against his cheeks, and it doesn’t help that he’s also being so sloppy. the way he’s licking and kissing is rough, like he has no idea the effect he’s having on you. he’s so focused and desperate to get the taste right.

he grips your thighs just slightly tighter, his fingers sinking into the skin hard enough to leave little indents, he seems to be getting into a rhythm, his face pressing between your thighs, his mouth so eager and messy. like he doesn’t know how hard you’re clenching, how you can barely keep your thighs open, or how you’re trying to stop all those pretty sounds from leaving your mouth. a long, shaky exhale drags out of your throat, soft and breathy as you cum. your thighs jerking and your fingers curling into the mess of his hair, gripping the tangled curls without thinking. he pulls away, his cheeks flushed and his face a mess with the sweet combination of sugar and you.

his voice is a soft whine when he speaks. and he’s still gently massaging your legs, just wanting to touch you but also trying not to leave a trail of sugar and chocolate all over you. “good?” was all he asked. the softest little syllable, and he already made it sound so pleading.

a shaky sound came out, "uh-huh", barely more than a breath. he smiles at that, his expression turning sweet and soft the moment you show any signs of approval. he loves you, just so much, and he can’t ever get enough of hearing you say you’re satisfied. he pushes himself up just a little more to rest his head on your stomach, letting the top of his head just barely touch your chest, before he lets out a content sigh.

“yeah?” he asks, but you can hear that it isn’t really a question, he also starts writing down some things in his notebook, writing down certain flavors, how you tasted, to get this chocolate perfect.

ʚoɞ

a/n: this is my first ever time writing x reader smut lmao neverrr thought it would be willy wonka but timothee..... mhm mhm mhm

Inferno :: abandon all hope, ye who enter here

｡⋆𖦹.✧˚──

you and clark were sitting on the couch, the evening creeping in with its soft, quiet light. it had been a long day, but still, he was here, as he always seemed to be when the world slowed down. the two of you were talking, nothing too important. just the usual random banter that filled the space between moments. your cat had found her way into clark’s lap, curling up there like it was the most natural place in the world, and clark, the ever gentle soul, let her stay. it wasn’t until you noticed how still he was that you realized maybe the conversation had started to fade around him.

he blinked slowly, like he was fighting something, a yawn, maybe, or the weight of exhaustion that always seemed to find him when he wasn’t being superman. you caught the little tremble of his shoulders as he tried to keep his attention, but it was a losing battle. his voice dropped, becoming quieter, slower. you raised an eyebrow. “clark, you good?”

he mumbled something that didn’t quite form into words, a quiet hum of agreement or maybe just an attempt to stay awake. but his eyes were slipping closed now, and you could see it in the way his shoulders sagged, the way his grip on your cat loosened just enough to make the little furball shift, curling tighter against his chest.

you didn’t say anything else, just watched as his head slowly tilted to the side, his glasses slightly askew, and his breathing evening out in the softest rhythm. it wasn’t long before the words in his mouth stopped altogether, his body sinking deeper into the couch, his hand gently cradling your cat like she was a newborn. it was ridiculous and sweet all at once, and you couldn’t help the smile that pulled at your lips.

you stood up quietly, careful not to make any noise that might disturb him. the blanket on the back of the couch was soft, a faded blue color that had seen better days. you grabbed it, draping it over him gently, smoothing it down around his shoulders, making sure he was comfortable. your cat barely stirred in his arms, happy enough to let clark hold her like this.

it was funny, you thought, how different he was when he wasn’t in a cape or suit, when he wasn’t saving people or rushing off to the next disaster. here, in your living room, he was just clark. tired, quiet, messy haired clark who didn’t have to be perfect all the time.

you pulled the blanket up a little higher, tucking it around him with one last touch, just to make sure he stayed warm through the night. the soft rise and fall of his chest beneath the blanket was steady, peaceful. the only sounds in the room were the occasional soft snore from clark and the gentle purring of your cat.

you sat back down on the couch, curling up next to them both, your gaze drifting from clark’s peaceful face to the way the blanket gently shifted with each breath he took.

Not done yet but I post for May 9th— May thy 9th chip and shatter ❤️

no literally because the whole point of the show is that it doesn’t ask you to forgive them! it’s not about justifying any of it, it’s about what people become when survival isn’t clean. let things be awful.

why are people in the tags obsessed with justifying/defending the characters in Yellowjackets. Can't things just be terrible?