@hellsurvivr ˖ ࣪ . ࿐ ♡ ˚ .
ㅤㅤ❛❛ can we skip the pointless chatting and do something that isn't on the same level of fun as watching paint dry? you're boring me. ❜❜

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@hellsurvivr ˖ ࣪ . ࿐ ♡ ˚ .
ㅤㅤ❛❛ can we skip the pointless chatting and do something that isn't on the same level of fun as watching paint dry? you're boring me. ❜❜
@eldritchblcst, heather: ❛ did i say you could come? ❜
the whine that escapes him is downright pitiful, heaving breaths escaping him as he drips from his cage. arms tremble slightly, palms pressed heavily into the mattress. naked on his hands and knees as she sits in front of him far more clothed, clearly the one in control. her fingers laced around the loop in his collar, barely being touched at all being more than enough to push him over the edge. he couldn’t stop himself, but of course she knew that. she’s beyond familiar with how easily he falls apart, has made the most of how quick he is to get riled up. it’s something she’s had plenty of fun with, something that clearly isn’t about to change.
« i’m sorry, baby. » practically whispered, voice almost lost in the sound of his panting. he knows what role he’s playing, falls into the role with ease. the position he’s in, the collar, the way his tongue hangs out. it flows naturally with her. and they both know his quick finish means very little, the pair constantly playing with denial and overstimulation rolled into one, this will be no different. hands grip the sheets beneath him, whimpering quietly as his head raises to meet heather’s gaze, wordlessly pleading for her to give him more, even if he may not seem like he can take it.
@hippiefeel : ❛ right there, that feels so good. ❜
mouth attached to her neck, fingers steadily pumping between her legs. all he wants is to make her feel good, to give her all the pleasure she desires. the praise only encourages him, picking up the pace slightly as he fingers her, though keeping focused on the same angle that had made her moan out the encouragement. kisses begin to dip lower, trailing down her chest until he reaches one of her nipples. tongue swirls around it before he’s latching on to lick and suck, moaning quietly in the process. his only goal in this is to please her, and as long as he’s doing that then he’s perfectly content.
@towercursed plotted, yo.
“You know, it was like, all about acceptance and shit.” Jesse stands in the middle of Rapunzel’s apartment. He’s lacking any real smile, but he’s here. He rubs the back of his neck, looking around her place. It’s got a hell of a lot more furniture than he did. He had a sofa bed, a TV, a table, and a bed. That was about it.
Honestly, a lot of what Jesse heard in rehab felt like utter garbage. It wasn’t like he could sit around the campfires and sing kumbaya with a bunch of people he didn’t know, care about, or trust. Not to mention his ‘counsellor’ or whatever didn’t seem to really get what Jesse was saying when he asked how forgiveness and acceptance was even possible. He’d only half accepted the journey, but he knew one thing for sure –– he wanted to stay clean.
“Yo, uh, why’d you ask me to come over?” Jesse asks, looking her direction as if he was curious why he’d be invited anywhere. They hadn’t exactly seen eye to eye before Jane died.
no humanity sc, @webheadedhero.
ㅤㅤshe nearly snarls when pulled away from her warm meal, the woman slumping back in the vampire's loose hold. ❛ what? ❜ she appears two seconds away from dismissing him, clearly not in the mood for interruptions of any kind. ❛ oh, spare me the lecture, okay? i'm hungry, so i'm feeding ⸻ or am i supposed to just starve now? ❜ and she'll be damned ( perhaps she already is either way ) if she goes back to feeding from blood bags, no matter how much it might bother anyone else.
@americanedpsycho ˖ ࣪ . ࿐ ♡ ˚ .
ㅤㅤ❛❛ has anyone ever told you that you've got kind of a creepy vibe? because you do. ❜❜
@shadowbrn / a.starion ˖ ࣪ . ࿐ ♡ ˚ .
ㅤㅤ❛❛ red looks good on you, ❜❜ she noted coyly, slowly licking off the blood painting her fingers. waste not, want not and all that.
@eldritchblcst, heather: ❛ will you stop doing that? ❜
its dark outside, but in the kitchen the light shines bright, bright enough to hurt his eyes. it had been easy enough to slip out of bed without her noticing, though she’s often well aware of when he has nightmares. he’d just never actually fallen asleep, just stared into space for hours before getting up and doing something. its by no means a good coping mechanism, the left behind remnants of how things had been when living with his parents. he hadn’t even realised he was crying, so caught up in scrubbing the floor that he hadn’t noticed. he doesn’t even notice her coming in, flinching at the sound of her voice, jumping at the feeling of her hand stopping his motions.
he shakes, stares at the floor, fights the urge to continue his scrubbing. he’s obviously exhausted, hasn’t had a good nights sleep in days. its all been too much, the trial slowly tearing him apart. reliving his trauma, having to admit all that his parents have done to him, it feels impossible most days. he isn’t doing it for himself, he’s never been able to do that. he’s doing it for her, so that she doesn’t get in trouble, so that his parents can’t touch her. as much as he wants to fight for himself, he knows he can’t.
« i can’t. » weakly sobbed out, but it’s clear that he’s not talking about the need to stop scrubbing the floors. « i can’t do it. »