Hello Momo I Just Know About Your Blog And Just Want Say I Love Your Writing

Hello Momo ✨ I just know about your blog and just want say I love your writing ❤️

One question though, do you write yandere poly relationship ? (Sorry if the question make you feel uncomfortable, you can ignore it)

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Hmm, it really depends for me...

I don't really write ships plus the reader. It feels really weird for me to be honest.

For Example: BruAbba x Reader

I would write both of them in love with the reader, but not the two being together then liking the reader. I don't want to make anyone mad or disappointed, it's just how I feel!

I hope this answers your question anon~! Thanks sm for your support!! Have a nice day !

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Hi, I love your writing! Could I request for ‘Staring, watching, fantasizing’ from the prompt list for yandere Abbacchio? Thanks! 😊

i am so sorry for the hold up on fics! it was finals week and i was trying to balance the fine line of passing and writing away!! i hope you enjoy some good ol’ abbacchio cuz u sure know i do 💜✨

Yandere Abbacchio x Reader

🌌Staring, Watching, Fantasizing

It took just a simple encounter, maybe he does have worth after all.

Abbacchio had a secret, a secret he would never admit even to the almighty Capo of his gang. He looked up to him, yet couldn’t bear the dark secret and guilt he carried with him every step he took around Naples. 

When he joined Passione, he thought he lost everything. He had nothing left, Leone Abbacchio dying along with his partner who gave up his life for a piece of scum like him. His life didn’t mean as much as Bucciarati, a man who took others in and gave hope to everyone. Even Narancia had more worth if he thought about it, a young boy who had yet to learn and live life. Abbacchio already did and life consumed everything that was of him. He somewhat pitied Passione for having to work with such a worthless pathetic shell of a man. 

Although some of that changed, changed when he met the kind grocery worker who worked at the outlet Bucciarati would frequent. On the day he met you, Bucciarati was busy on a mission as well as Narancia was too preoccupied with Fugo beating the hell out of him after he also failed his literacy lessons. Mista was god knows where leaving Abbacchio to be the errand boy of the week. 

He remembered being pissed at the fact he was stuck with the responsibility of buying everyone their necessary items. All he wanted to do was spend the free time that he had in his room listening to his opera music that Narancia complained about. 

When he walked into the store, he immediately tried to hurry and quickly grab the needed items that were on the list. What he didn’t expect was smacking right into someone falling back against a shelf. The shelf's contents dropped onto him as all he could feel was the pricking pain of the box's corners hitting his skin. As soon as the last box fell, he stood right up going back to grab the groceries that fell out of his handbasket. Bringing his attention to the ground, was when he first saw you. Instantly trying to profile you, he came to the conclusion that you were probably about his age or even younger. You paid no attention to him as you were focused on cleaning up his strewn-about items. Rolling his eyes, he just stared at you expecting you to hurry up with her sorrowful babble. 

By the time you were done, you grabbed the basket and got up to bow at him. Your pathetic apologies rang through his ears as he continued to stare at you. Your voice sounded genuine and the bowing caught him off guard as well. The more he stared at you, the more he was somewhat entranced by the attention you gave him. When you offered to help him out for the rest of the visit, he initially declined yet you continued to bother him by following him around. 

Sooner or later he finished his shopping experience with you still hot on his trail apologizing about the accident earlier. Before he had the chance to yell at you to leave him alone, you cut him off by offering him a glass of wine of his choice. Immediately he rethought his next actions and reluctantly agreed. The others could wait, they didn’t really need these items at the very second? Plus he was offered practically a free glass of wine, it benefits both sides. 

While sitting down with you, silently sipping on his free wine. He got a load of mindless chatter. You tried being charismatic and friendly by telling him your name and who exactly you were. Apparently, you didn’t get the social cues he was sending you about not wanting to talk. 

Although the more time that went on, he started to get intrigued by you. You treated him as if he meant something, just like in the old days when he was Leone Abbacchio. He didn’t know if it was the alcohol hindering his thoughts or just the actual fact that you were just happy to be in his presence. The one-sided conversation later turned into a mutually enjoyed one from both sides. 

That night when he left the table, he couldn’t help but yearn for another conversation with you. You didn’t know him as the broken murderer he was, but someone who was just as normal as everyone else. He wanted to talk to you again… 

So he did.

When the hand-turned midnight, Abbacchio silently got out of his bed and made his way out of the house the gang currently resided in. Arriving back at a familiar outdoor restaurant which was now closed from it being so late, he sat down at the same chair he was six hours ago. Summoning his stand, it transformed into the person he wanted to see the most. You. 

He replayed it back to the moment you sat down beside him and tried to start up a friendly convo. Abbacchio regretted not listening to you in the beginning, but now he had another chance to. His hardened purple hues softened at the sight of you as you awkwardly fidgeted around with a small red hue on your cheeks. Leaning over, he brought his face just a few inches away from your look-alike's face. He tried to imagine the timer that was displayed on your forehead was not there. He just wanted to burn the image of you into his mind. His eyes focused deeply into yours as you continued to rant speaking towards his defined chest region. 

He wished he could see you again, wished he could sit down next to you and talk again like this with you. Not sitting here desperately using his stand just to feel and experience an ounce of you.

That was when things started to spiral. 

Being in the mafia did have its benefits, he easily found out where you lived and worked in one file on Bucciarati’s laptop. Making up some dumb makeshift white lie, it was no hassle in bringing up any citizens who currently resided in Italy. Foreign or not. 

It started out with wandering around Naples looking for you. He luckily ran into you at the grocery store, yet without you knowing. He followed you around as you just picked up some candy. He lurked behind you all day as you relaxed at the park later ending up at the peer enjoying the sparkling hues of the ocean. Although he couldn’t be with you every second of the day due to his occupation, he would just keep tabs on you with the little habits he picked up on you about. 

Immediately upon gaining the information of where you lived, he snuck his way over. Abbacchio wanted to deny the small tiggles he felt each step of the way towards your home. He saw your small empty apartment and grew a sense of comfort from the area that obviously looked like it would be from you. 

He noticed you weren’t present so he made himself at home. It smelled of you and he enjoyed every moment of it. Inspecting each and every little piece of furniture you had, a small smile grew on his face. 

By the time he made it into your bedroom, he felt like he was a kid on Christmas. Letting out a deep chuckle he made his way towards your bed. Abbacchio sat down on it just gazing around your room. His eyes landed on your hairbrush that laid messily on the countertop where some of your clothes were sticking out from. 

Abbacchio got up and walked over towards the counter. Slowly reaching down, he picked up the light item and eyeballed it. The strands of your colored hair rested upon the surface underneath all the little bristles. Using his left hand, he took his pointer finger and thumb jamming them between the little bristles. 

Getting a good grip on some strands of hair, he tugged them out. The other miny hairs clumped over the certain patch he had, giving some resistance. After they were separate from the brush, he brought them up to his eye level and gapped at them. A sudden urge to bring the small patch up to his nostrils took over. 

Bringing it up, all he could do was think of you and your untroubled smile. So naïve and innocent of the sinful world that surrounded you every day. The scent of the hair products you used flooded into his brain. Letting out a shallow groan, he closed his eyes and let out a shutter. Slowly he looked towards the door that he assumed was your washroom. 

He sauntered over towards the wooden frame and opened it. Your pristine bathroom stared back at him with your cosmetics and other hair or body supplies on the counter by the sink. Peering into your washtub, he caught sight of the hair products that you used. Mentally noting them down, he turned towards your hand soap and made sure to remember that as well. 

Abbacchio loved being a part of your life. Even though a part of him chastised him for being selfish for wanting that, he knew that you believed he had rights. You believed he had the right to be happy and accept the ghosts that haunted him in the past. 

The sound of keys being inserted brought him out of his mid daydream. Quickly stuffing the lock of hair in his pocket, he also pocketed your hazel-colored hairbrush. Jumping out of the window onto the fire escape, he shut your window and made an escape. 

Once arriving back to the shared home, he was greeted by the other members who were discussing plans about an upcoming infiltration. Bucciarati began to bombard him with questions on why he wasn’t there as Narancia commented on his disheveled form.  Grumbling in response, he went back to his current room and slammed the door. 

The mirror that was propped up by the door reflected his current appearance. His usual purple lipstick was smudged as if someone had tried to wipe it off with the bare minimum effort. The ties that kept his coat together were loosely tangled and knotted as a small glint of hazel shone out from underneath the humongous coat he wore. 

Letting out another groan, he stripped himself of his coat. The heavy piece of fabric lay on his bed leaving Abbacchio shirtless. His defined muscles overshadowed some parts of his body from the poorly lit room. He tumbled on his bed putting his orange headphones on as he started up his disc man. The relaxing blues soothed his nerves from his previous infiltration. 

His coat sat next to him, your fragrance seeping off of it. Averting his eyes towards his coat, he brought it to his chest and draped it over his relaxed form. The brush that was in his pocket was now in his hands as he thought about the many times this lucky item was able to sift through your glorious locks. Everything you owned was lucky, so lucky that they got to be a part of your everyday life. 

He mindlessly laid here thinking about all the scenarios of just you and him. You and him at a day in a café, or the movies. Maybe the new cinema that was added down a few blocks? Better yet, re-visiting the restaurant that became one of the best days of his life. At this point he couldn’t think about a day without you in his life, you were a hook that kept him grappled down to this measly world. You were something that gave him hope throughout this shitty place of a beautiful city that tourists nicknamed without knowing its true mannerisms.

He couldn’t lose you to it, or anyone. Just the thought of you with another man, blessing him with your smile infuriated him. You were made for him as he was a perfect match for you. Without you he would be nothing, so why should he share you with anyone else?

Turning his attention to the tablet that sat beside his bed, he looked at the crumpled photo of you taken in a vineyard. He remembered that day, you went out there to take some pictures of the scenery and just have a nice relaxing day off. There were countless nights where he would envision himself standing right next to you as you stared up into his eyes with love, the same love he had for you. 

When the album ended, he was left in silence to ponder his own thoughts. He hated when this happened as his subconscious would begin to eat him whole. Taking one more glance at your photo, he rose up from the bed. The setting sun peeked behind his curtains. 

Surely if you loved him as much as he loved you, you wouldn’t mind if he could seal the deal?

*stands on pedestal and taps mic* hello can I request number 100 and 12 for Bruno or Risotto, oh and with a male s/o if possible!

Yandere Bucciarati x Male!Reader

Prompts #12 & #100

“Shhh please be quiet. Everything will be okay.”

“I will kiss you until your lips bleed. Just let me have this, I wanted to do this for so long.”

You had a nagging pit in your stomach while patiently sitting on the boat by the dock in front of the tall church. Something wasn’t sitting right with you as you were ordered to remain on the boat. Looking over, Mista and Narancia were fighting over the last chocolate confection as Fugo looked around for some water to cure his parched throat. Abbachio was silently sitting there as Giorno looked focused on something that looked to be important.

His blonde eyebrows furrowed in concentration or one could say frustration. Something was up and you weren’t going to just sit around while blindlessly waiting for it to come. Taking one last glance at the group, you urgently hopped off the boat granting the surprise of the others.

“What are you doing?! We’re going to get in trouble, not only by Bucciarati but the boss himself!” Exclaimed Fugo as he ditched his little crusade for water.

“Don’t you feel it? Something is off…I don’t like it and I’m not just going to sit around to find out. I worry about Trish and most importantly Bucciarati.”

“Are you out of your mind?! This is the boss we're talking about, you can’t just waltz in there!”

Fugo continued to rant on as the others stared in confusion. You ignored him and hastily approached the chapel. Giorno as well stood up and looked like he was planning to make a move.

Upon opening the doors a familiar noise you’ve grown accustomed to was heard. The sound of Sticky Finger’s zippers. Picking up your pace, you pulled a full on sprint making your way down the stairs. Rounding the corner on the marble stairs, you saw a sight you never wanted to see Bucciarati bleeding out as he was dragging Trish with him. You failed to notice a shadowy presence in the corner of your eye making an escape.

Rushing over to Bucciarati you called upon your stand The Sound of Silence and put your stand into effect. The atmosphere around you and Bucciarati froze, the blood bleeding out of him remaining in place as you continued to drag him and Trish up the stairs.

The sound of another pair of footsteps got your attention. Starting to call for help the footsteps grew louder and closer. Giorno stood there, panting and holding one of his brooches. Catching sight of you, he immediately ran his way downwards to assist the three of you.

Bucciarati was in a moderate stable condition, but your stand wouldn’t stop the bleeding for long. Trish’s hand was still zip to her wrist, unconscious from what you could guess. Giorno kneeled down and started to heal Bucciarati’s wounds, his dull eyes gaining the light they once lost as they stared into your own.

Slowly but surely Bucciarati was healed, feeling the weight of his head resting on your lap. A few moments went by with the prolonged eye contact before you looked at Giorno who gave a brief affirm nod of his head that everything was fine.

The church's doors were slammed open as the others made their way towards you all. All of them confused by the distressed look on your faces and the sight of Trish’s harmed body.

“W-What happened? Why is Trish like that? What happened to the boss?!”

All of them started to bombard you three with questions, Giorno standing up to confront the group. Looking back down into Bucciarati’s ocean blue eyes, his eyes met yours. Your eyes widened at the fact he had been staring at you the whole time.

“Bucciarati, are you ok? You took a really bad blow…I just want to make sure you're alright…”

Bucciarati rapidly blinked and sat up, a small smile cascading over his attractive features.

“I’m just fine, do not worry. If it weren’t for you coming in and alerting Giorno, I would have been dead. Thank you y/n, I’m truly grateful for what you have done.”

Smiling at your Capo’s praise, you brought your gaze back to the frantic group. All their eyes darted around as they continued to ask what was wrong. Bucciarati got up and cleared his throat, getting the attention from the others. He explained he would tell them once they were outside and not in the dangerous church where the boss might’ve still lingered.

Walking outside you saw Bucciarati looking out of the corner of his eye. Quickly looking away, you made your way back to the dock where Bucciarati announced he betrayed Passione. He then asked for help explaining that it was okay if they decided not to join him.

The shock of the situation ate away at you, your hands fidgeting as you kept your eyesight locked onto the ground. Giorno was already in the boat as was Abbachio who decided he was going along. Mista agreed as well and continued on the boat, him eyeing his gun ignoring the others as if he was convincing himself that it would be fine. Narancia looked like he was about to have a breakdown, torn between if he should go or not. Then there was Fugo who went against it as he backed slowly away from the boat.

In the end Narancia came along with Fugo staying behind, the rest of you were riding in silence on the boat. No one dared to speak as the atmosphere rang heavy. Still in disbelief on the decision you heard a shuffle next to you. Slowly looking up, you saw Bucciarati’s concerned face as he reached over towards your shaking hand.

“Are you alright? You don’t look so well. I shouldn’t be asking that, we did just make a life threatening decision. I just want to say, overall I am really grateful you came.”

Peering up to meet his gaze, you let out a small smile. Your eyes shifting back down to his olive tan hand holding yours.

“Thank you Bucciarati, I’m sure we all will get through this together and take down the boss.”

Bucciarati nodded at your response, continuing to hold your hand during the way there.

You looked back at that moment as you laid there bleeding from your severed arm. The scarily large amount of blood coming from your wound frightened you. You didn’t want to die, it was too early for you and you didn’t want to go out like this. You wanted to see your gang, you wanted to see Bruno.

His warm gaze that day was something you wished you could see again, but the only thing you saw was the dark weather ceiling of the colosseum. Your labored breathing became steady as your body was fading, your eyesight as well. You heard a noise, but couldn’t make out what it really was. A few shuffles accompanied it as a familiar white suit enveloped your vision. A few curse words were heard until the sound of zippers rang throughout your ears.

“H-Help me…I don’t w-want to die-” You whimpered, tears pricking at your eyes as your mortality hung above your head.

“Shhh please be quiet. Everything will be okay. There’s no need to worry, I’m here.”

About to whip your head towards Bucciarati, you failed from the lack of energy your body had. Steadily your eyesight came back and you were able to see all of Bucciarati’s consoling gaze. His hand gently wiping the stray tears on your face.

“I-I thought I was going to die, I didn’t want to die until I saw all of you guys win. Where is everyone?” You questioned as your colored orbs darted around looking for the rest of your teammates.

“No need to worry, they are doing just fine for now. When you were injured and thrown by Diavolo, they all thought you'd died. I couldn’t just leave you like Abbachio…you mean everything to me y/n. Once this is all over, you and I can go back to Naples to my private house. It may not be big, but I believe it would be a perfect starting point for us.”

The words Bucciarati said started to confuse you. The others thought you were dead? Not only that, but he was talking about feelings you never even heard of.

“What are you talking about Bucciarati? W-We have to go help the others!” You declared, trying to get the working muscles from your severed arm working again.

“No we don’t, they are just fine right now. You're injured. I may have re-attached your arm although I cannot make up for all the blood you lost. You're still in shock from the fall as well, I would rather die than have you risked going back out there to only get yourself killed. I care about you too much to let you go. I love you.”

“This isn’t funny Bucciarati! Our teammates are out there fighting the boss, we can’t just sit here waiting for the others to do everything for us.”

“Yes you can. The boss has already been defeated alright, so stop insisting about meeting back up with everyone. You're not going back.”

Before you could open your mouth and respond to Bucciarati’s statement, lips were upon yours. His lips making haste against your own as pure undeniable passion radiated from them. The feeling of his semi-chapped plumped lips intertwined with yours, as both of your saliva mixed together. This moment felt like forever as you were forced to endure Bucciarati’s foregin lips on yours.

Finding and summoning all your strength, you pushed Bucciarati away. Eyes blown wide open as you stared in shock at your capo.

“Why did you do that? Bucciarati-”

“Call me Bruno, we’ve known each other long enough for us to call us by our last names. You saved me from meeting my y/n, I remember the distraught look in yours eyes as you worried for my own well-being. You’ve proved to me countless times of how amazing you are. I thought my feelings for you were odd, different from the others, but I’ve figured out that truly I’ve been in love with you. I’ve learnt that you don’t need the others after you’ve been injured by Diavolo. You need me just as I need you.”

Bucciarati crept up next to you as you laid there with no more energy in your body to reject his on-going advances. He scooped you back into his arms and placed a hand on your cheek leaning down to get closer to your abused lips. You squirmed trying to turn your head away from his closing lips. Bucciarati’s left hand pulled your head closer to his as you felt the small puffs of air from his mouth.

“I will kiss you until your lips bleed. Just let me have this , I wanted to do this for so long.“

Before he could lean down and kiss you again, panic-stricken footsteps interrupted Bucciarati from continuing any further. The footsteps stopped outside the wall in the cell.

“Bucciarait are you okay? Where is y/n? I can’t find him!” Narancia’s distressed voice exclaimed.

Opening your mouth to call out for help, you were stopped by Sticky Fingers zipping your mouth shut.

“I haven’t found him yet. Keep looking somewhere else, I’ve gotten this area covered.”

A hum was heard before Narancia’s footsteps faded in the distance. Bucciarati brought his attention back down to you. A cocky smile as if he were mocking you for thinking you could have ever gotten away.

A few zipper noises were heard and then you lost feeling in your limbs. Bucciarati stood up and dust himself off. A few specks of dirt were still on his suit as he turned away, stopping at the archway.

“I will come back for you once they are all gone. I love you mio caro.” Then he left.

Maybe Fugo was right, maybe you should’ve never gone into that chapel.

Hey guys, if you're an active writer, artist, self-shipper, or poster in the JoJo (JJBA) fandom, can you reblog this???

The fandom is getting really slow and I'd love to know who's still around!

Let the Dead be Dead

𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎

(ʏᴀɴ!ʙᴜᴄᴄɪᴀʀᴀᴛɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

After the events of Vento Aureo, you are left to cope. Yet after an encounter you are left with another chance, yet was it really a chance to take?

The crinkle of blankets and small wisps of air that blew through the curtains letting in the rising sun woke you up from your peaceful slumber. Sleep was the only thing nowadays that seemed to be able to take your mind off the current present. It was easier to forget about the pain of the past by sleeping all your troubles away. That’s why sleep became such a luxury for you.

Even for a busy mafioso of high ranking, you made sure you were able to slip in time for a quick rest to make you feel as if nothing was wrong. Sometimes you would think about the times when you did take a brief catnap, shutting your eyes wanting to sleep after a long day of work. Just to open your eyes to see the entirety of your gang smiling back at you. Not all of them would smile, but you would like to think so. Even when they smacked and yelled at you to wake up, or grip onto you begging you to listen to the western rap with him, they were all still precious memories.

Slipping out of bed felt like a chore. You had to put on your finest material to make sure it radiated high status so you weren’t mistreated by the new recruits after the downfall of the last boss. Along with your makeup, applying some on to be noticeable yet not caking it on to where it looked like you were going to a low rent strip club. The last thing being a golden zip earring on your left ear.

Opening the door to your shared villa with the rest of the remaining familia, you walked towards the upper floors to the office of your boss and dear friend. It was early morning which meant the staff was busying either preparing food or doing the daily chores for the day. An occasional maid was there every now and then, vacuuming the expensive Persian rugs or dusting the antique wooden shelves.

Just as soon as you stood outside the thick wooden door which radiated secrecy from anyone besides you or your close companions, you opened the door. There was Giorno, already sitting in his chair reading over some documents and signing them if needed. He always looked so graceful, as if nothing bothered him in the world. His face was always calm as his emerald eyes always held unknown emotions. He made sure his appearance was perfect which you initially thought was because he was so young that he didn’t want anybody to underestimate him for his age.

There sat at the edge of his desk was a bottle of Silent wine, a datura flower in a clear cylinder vase, and a golden zipper hanging off of a black stand. Quickly averting your attention away, you began to greet Giorno.

“Morning Giorno.”

“Good morning to you as well y/n.”

The conversation ended at that. You picked up the envelope that lay on the desk with your name boldly written on it. Next to your envelope was a piece of paper formally addressed to Giorno. You slowly leaned over to pick it up, the almost weightless object in your hand sloshing back and forth from the opening windows in the room.

“That piece of paper is from an unknown associated party. We don’t have much of an idea about their whereabouts and I don’t want to continue out that way. I’m sending you to the address that is at the bottom. Be careful, we never know what to expect from anyone nowadays.” Giorno briefed you before turning his attention back to the contract in front of him.

Letting out a small sigh you turned around and left the room. Mista walking by you with his head in his arms whistling a tune. He gave a small wave and wiggle of eyebrows as hello when you walked past him. He always was a happy-go-lucky type guy and it irked you that you were placed on this mission instead of him…maybe Giorno was right about sending you actually.

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With a fast pace, you walked towards the destination marked on your little sticky note in the palm of your hand. Occasionally the locals would recognize you and wave, even inviting you for a mid-morning appetizer. Being there for business you had to respectfully decline.

Although what hurt you the most was the two older ladies that sat in foldable chairs under a fruit stall. You could recognize their face from anywhere. They were once close acquaintances towards your formal Capo or first love.

Bruno Bucciarati was a name you held in high regards and would never ever forget. Not only did he save you from your eternity of loneliness and poverty, but he gave you another chance in life. It was not long until you harbored romantic feelings for the male, yet he never knew anything of it. It seemed better to keep it that way as you didn’t want to add more onto the already busy and stressed workplate he already had.

The night when you all were driving towards the colosseum and he had told you of his condition, you broke down. You remembered the exact moment when his ocean blue eyes gazed at you through the rearview mirror. A small melancholy smile upon his ‘dead’ lips trying to find some sort of way to comfort you. When he departed from the body he inhabited, you sobbed all that morning with the crushing reality of never being able to be with him ever again.

That moment continued to haunt you.

Cursing to yourself, you made a beeline past the stall trying not to look at their expectant gaze. How you wished you could lay in your bed and forget about ever doing this.

By the time you made it to the location, it was an abandoned run-down building on the rural outskirts of the town. Just looking at it made your face scrunch in disgust. You decided to summon your stand for safety measures in case anyone decided to attack you.

The clicking of your shoes echoed down the hallway. Duel doors waited in front of you, one of them creaked open just enough to know that someone was there. Taking a deep breath, you opened the doors with a harsh push expecting someone to be waiting for you. All that was there was a massive dark moldy room. A record player in the center that seemed to not have worked in a long time.

Hesitantly stepping closer to the old machine, you finally stood in front of it. The wooden table it rested upon looked as if it suffered through years of abuse from insects of various kinds. Grimacing at what lay in front of you, you reached your hand out touching the vinyl. A casing looked to be stuck underneath the needle of the machine.

Mentally sighing you tried to pry the vanilla envelope from the needle yet it wouldn’t budge. After a few more attempts, you put your gaze onto the needle that was stuck in place. The needle appeared odd-looking as it didn’t really look like a needle but a sharp object that was substituted for the original broken one.

Meanwhile, you were focusing your attention on the particular piece you failed to notice the lurking figure behind. A sharp pain erupted from your neck as you fell to the floor. Your immediate response was holding the side of your neck that was pouring and gushing out with your own blood. The pain making it was to your throat as you failed to let out noise for help.

Dropping to the floor from the sudden blood loss, you began to lose consciousness with the last thing you saw being a golden zipper dropping onto the floor.

what are you rules for do's and don't

don't want you feeling uncomfortable or you have no idea on certain things

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I am a mostly unbothered person.

I don't have many do's and don'ts, to be honest. Of course I have don'ts although I can't really just think about them and word vomit them onto a post. Usually when I get a request I will have debate with myself if I'm comfortable with it or not. It's really weird for me, but usually I end up going with it.

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When I do write 18+ there is some things that I will say no too, but I will wait until that day comes and will edit my request list.

Thank you so much for caring about my boundaries and I hope this answers your question anon!! Have a nice day or evening wherever you are from~!

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