evansdmitri - Tumblr blog

evansdmitri · 1 day ago

Text

All of my favourites trope

Imagine being Zayne's celebrity significant other.

Imagine you had not planned to go live tonight.

but Imagine the apartment felt too quiet and you were too wired to sleep. You had just finished your last taping for the week, removed your makeup with the same lazy precision of someone who has done it a hundred times, and decided why not talk to your followers while you wind down?

Imagine you started a social media live. Nothing glamorous. Just you in an old tank top and a messy bun, legs crossed on the floor by the vanity. You told them you'd be doing your nighttime skincare routine. They flooded in anyway, laughing and teasing and asking questions in the chat.

Imagine you greeted the regulars.

Abcdeffg: you always go live when you're home alone huh 😭

Ladsslave: not you going bare faced and still looking better than my whole lineage

2days3days: did ur man vanish again 😭

Ztrope: 👀👀👀

1sht1kll: why do i feel like we're about to witness a reveal again

Ladsslave: not again. please god. i can't take another one

Imagine the way you roll your eyes at that last one, some weird trend seemed to be going on nowadays. "My boyfriend is not invisible. He's just... Difficult to catch." You said, rubbing toner into your skin. "He works late a lot, and no, he's not secretly a K-pop idol. Or a cult leader. Please stop guessing that."

Imagine the way your chat exploded with emotes and half serious conspiracy theories. You ignored the usual hate.

clote4: they're pretending again like her boyfriend ain't fake lol

1233kill: imagine hiding your man bc he's ugly 😭😭

dmnlf: must be embarrassing dating someone irrelevant

Imagine the way you smiled, unbothered. It's been like this for years. The world knew you were dating someone outside of showbiz and the tabloids hated that you refused to show his face. Photos of his back, his arm, the edge of his shoe. Your game of hide and seek had become a media circus. You'd gotten good at dodging paparazzi and cropping images. It was kind of fun, in a feral little way.

but Imagine the truth. You kept him hidden because the world was vicious and Zayne didn't ask for any of this. He was your soft place. Your safety. He saved lives not likes.

Imagine you eventually stood up, phone still propped on the table and stretched. "Alright, I'm gonna rinse, don't leave." You told the chat, before padding barefoot into the bathroom.

Imagine the chat continued to scroll rapidly without you. And then without any commotion, Zayne walked into frame. Just like that.

Imagine the way he entered the apartment silently. Still in his white coat and fitted dark scrubs with the sleeves slightly pushed up. His stethoscope was slung lazily around his neck. He looked exhausted but good. The kind of good that came from existing in someone else's home, not trying to impress anyone.

Imagine he did not see the phone on the table. Did not notice the stream.

Imagine he just tugged off his watch with one hand and move through the living room like muscle memory, his movements gentle. Shoes off. White coat on the hook. A soft sigh as he set down a grocery bag. Milk, tea, sweets and oranges. He then ran a hand through his hair, leaned against the counter and blinked slowly like he was still halfway out the door in his mind.

Imagine the way the chat lost their collective mind.

Ztrope: WAIT WHO IS THAT

Ladsslave: NO FUCKING WAY THAT'S HIM

Abcdeffg: the SCRUBS??? THE STETH??

2days3days: why does he look like he's in a medical kdrama rn STOP

clote4: oh.

dmnlf: suddenly i understand why they gatekept

1sht1kll: .... is this some kind of multiverse of malewife reveals? I fear we're stuck here

Imagine the way he scratched the back of his neck, yawning. Then habitually, absentmindedly he walked over the table and picked up the little ceramic dish where your rings lived when you weren't wearing them. He turned one between his fingers then set it back down. A small fond smile tugged at his mouth. Still unaware.

Imagine it wasn't until he turned toward the bathroom where a sound was coming from that he finally caught it. The soft red glow of the live indicator on your phone. His body paused, mid turn. He squinted over his glasses. Tilted his head. Registered the fact that the lens was pointed directly at him.

and Imagine it was on real time, three hundred thousand viewers witnessed the exact moment your very private boyfriend realized he was in a very publicly live.

Imagine the way his eyes widened a fraction. He blinked. Everyone could see the mental processing of denial, confusion, dread, betrayal then acceptance in that exact order.

Imagine he then did something so incredibly Zayne. He froze, then quietly backed out of frame like a ghost who had accidentally walked into the wrong haunting. The chat absolutely erupted.

Ztrope: SIR YOU ARE ALREADY CAUGHT COME BACK

Ladsslave: HE JUST MOONWALKED OUT OF THE STREAM I'M CRYING

Abcdeffg: NOT THE REVERSE STEP OF SHAME 😭😭😭

2days3days: NAHHHH BRING HIM BACK RN

clote4: actually he's fine nvm

Imagine the way you reentered the frame a moment later, patting your face dry with a towel, completely unaware of the war zone your comment section had become. "Okay, next is-" You froze.

Imagine because right now on top of the table, your phone was slightly tilted. And you could see him. Just behind you, in the hallway mirror's reflection, Zayne. Halfway hidden behind the kitchen wall, arms crossed and blinking at you like a cat who had fallen off the counter and wanted to pretend he meant to do that.

"...Were you live this whole time?" He asked, voice soft but incredulous. You turned slowly. "Zay..." He raised an eyebrow. "Tell me I didn't just soft launch myself."

Imagine there was a pause. One breath. Then another. Then you start to panic. A soft, fast, whispering as you scramble toward the camera. "Oh god- the live! I was still live, it's on-"

Imagine the way Zayne hand catches yours as you walk over to the camera. His hand still cold from outside. Cold but steady and even a little warm. You look up at him and he smiles, quiet, tired, but fond. "Hey." He says as if you're the only one in the world. "It's okay."

Imagine then he turns to the phone. To the live audience. His voice is calm, but you can feel the tension in his fingers wrapped with yours. "I'm Zayne." He says, expression unreadable except for the slight quirk at the corner of his mouth "Their boyfriend. Yes, I'm real."

Imagine the way he says it so simply, so dry. The chat goes feral. The chat screamed.

1sht1kll: DEJA VU DEJA VU DEJA VU

Ztrope: HARD LAUNCH. THIS WAS A HARD. LAUNCH.

2days3days: he said 'soft' launch while looking like a heart surgeon in a cologne ad pls

Ladsslave: nah girl you just gave us our new parasocial dad. thank you.

Imagine the way Zayne's thumb brushes your knuckle. You glance at him and he looks calm. But you know by the way that his hands felt cold that he's nervous. He's not used to this. So you hold his hand a little tighter. Lean your head on his shoulder.

Imagine then you turned to face the camera. "... So anyway. This is Zayne. Yes, he's real. Yes, he's my boyfriend. And no, you cannot have him." There was a pause "You guys always said he wasn't real." You murmur with a soft smile. "Well. Surprise."

Imagine beside you, Zayne gave the camera a tiny, exhausted wave, like someone greeting an alien spaceship for the first time.

"I brought oranges." He says like a whisper. "I turned down the extra hour." He added, voice gentle and sweet, just for you. "Thought maybe we could just stay in. Be boring. Watch something terrible. Fall asleep on the couch. Just like what you wanted?" The chat melted.

1sht1kll: THE PANIC IN THEIR EYES 😭😭😭

Abcdeffg: HE BROUGHT HER ORANGES. I’M SOBBING

Ladsslave: WE STAN DR. ORANGE

Ztrope: THE MAN. THE MYTH. THE FACE CARD NEVER DECLINED.

clote4: lol acting like this isn't staged

2days3days: MY PARASOCIAL HEART CAN'T TAKE ANOTHER REVEAL I SWEAR TO GOD

Imagine the way you reached over to end the stream. "Okay, I'm logging off before this turns into a cult." Zayne leaned over your shoulder, glancing at the screen just before it went black. "... Too late." He murmured. Then just before you press the end the live, you pause just long enough to say. "We're logging off now. I owe this man a couch nap and a bad movie."

Imagine that was the night your quiet, different to catch, saintly boyfriend accidentally got exposed to half the internet with nothing but a grocery bag, a tired smile, and the audacity of existing in your space like he belonged there. Because he did.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

: ahhhh uni days is approaching might as well jdhsjjdhsh

2K notes · View notes

evansdmitri · 1 month ago

Note

Can you write a short somno fic for Sylus but he’s already been doing it for awhile? And he feels so damn guilty about it but genuinely can’t stop because it’s like an addiction to him now? :)

In Somno

Word Count: 3.6k

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, somno, nonconsensual somnophilia, noncon, unprotected sex, creampies, fingering, facials

Summary: Sylus just can't help himself when it comes to your sleeping body <33

Over and over he'd tell himself how wrong this was. How terrible he was for using you like this. All he could think about when he picked you up now was how long it would be before he got to cum on your pretty face again. How could he even think such thoughts? All that guilt would quickly subside as soon as you started yawning though.

Yes, even a simple yawn from you was enough to get him rock hard now.

AN: Sorry anon, I know you said "short" but I got really excited and got carried away. So lets just say this is my version of a short fic LOL. Also thank you thank you thank youuuu for requesting this, I've been itching to write another somno fic hehehe. Btw the title means “In slumber” in Latin!!! :33

He hadn't intended for things to escalate to this point.

Normally, Sylus was a master of self-control, able to reign in his desires with ease. But on that particular day, something had been stirred within him, something that he couldn't quite explain. It had started when he saw you lying in his bed, fast asleep and naked, after a long and exhausting mission. You'd taken a shower and had passed right out. Your fatigue had been palpable, and he had gone to cover you with a blanket, his hand accidentally brushing against the side of your breast.

Sylus froze, his breath catching in his throat. He hadn't meant for this to happen, hadn't meant to touch you like...that. His hand lingered for a moment, a mere whisper of contact, before he moved it away as if it burned. He stared at you, sleeping peacefully, unaware of the turmoil his innocent touch had ignited within him. He had always prided himself on his ability to control himself. Yet here he was, his heart pounding, his body betraying him.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. It was just a touch, he told himself. A harmless, accidental touch. But his body refused to listen, his mind refusing to let go of the softness of your skin, the warmth that had radiated from you. He gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to touch you again, to trace the curve of your breast, to feel more of your warmth.

He knew he should leave, let you rest, should respect your sleep. But he found himself rooted to the spot, unable to move, unable to tear his eyes away from you. He had seen you naked before, had seen you sleep countless times. But this was different. This time, he felt something stirring within his groin as he watched your naked chest rise with each breath. Your beautiful, peaceful face was messing with his senses. He tried to dismiss it, to attribute it to the fatigue of the long day, the heat of the room, anything but the truth.

The truth was, you two hadn't had much time for each other lately, and even less for anything intimate. The lack of physical connection had left him pent up, achingly so. He couldn't remember the last time you'd both had a moment to yourselves, a moment to explore each other's desires and needs.

As he sat there, looking at you, he couldn't help but feel a surge of longing. He shut his eyes briefly, trying to calm himself down, but it was no use. Better to quell the urge to touch you now, and then forget about this, he figured. He reached back over, his hand gently touching the soft roundness of your breast, giving it a light squeeze. The touch sent a spark of electricity through his body, and he felt his cock harden in his pants.

Shit. He had definitely just made it worse.

You stirred, letting out a soft whine, and he felt his heart skip a beat. The sound of your voice was like music to his ears, a sweet melody that only added to his arousal. He quickly withdrew his hand, however, as you began to shift and turn your body away from him in your sleep.

Your butt was now completely visible to him. His heart dropped into his stomach. You had always been the only one to undo his calm, to make him feel this way. He ran his fingers through his hair, now having an internal battle within himself. It felt wrong...undeniably wrong...and yet…

One thing had led to another, and he found himself carefully pushing his fingers inside your wet folds. The sensation was almost too much to bear, and he was breathless as your cunt sucked in his fingers bit by bit. The feeling of your inner walls clamping down on his fingers sent his mind into a frenzy, and he couldn't help but think about how much he wanted to be inside you.

How wet you'd be.

How tight you'd be.

His cock was rock hard and throbbing in his boxers, pressing against the back of your leg. He pressed himself against your butt lightly, trying to relieve some of the ache that had been building up inside him.

It wasn't enough.

You began to squirm, your body shifting slightly in your sleep, and he froze. He didn't remove his fingers, but ceased his motions...as if pausing could erase what he’d just done. He watched you closely, heart pounding, waiting to see if your eyes would open. If they did, he told himself, he’d just say you two had dozed off like that. Just a sleepy accident.

The lie formed easily in his mind, but the weight of it hit hard. He had never lied to you before...and now, standing on the edge of it, he felt something bitter twist in his gut. Shame crept up his spine, hot and sharp, settling in his face until his skin burned. But he didn’t move. Didn’t pull away. He smothered the guilt with silence, burying it under the oldest excuse in the book: what you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you.

As you pressed your backside against him, unknowingly in your sleep, he felt a surge of desire wash over him, replacing all guilt and shame with a primal, aching need. The pain in his groin became almost unbearable, and he couldn't bring himself to care about anything else except satisfying his craving for you.

Within the next few minutes he had rid himself of his underwear, lifted your leg and slowly began to sink his aching, throbbing cock inside you, only a little bit at first. The sensation was almost too much to bear, and he felt himself plunging into you over and over, his hips moving in a slow, rhythmic motion. His hand gripped the roundness of your ass, holding you in place as he thrust into you, his fingers digging slightly into your skin.

"Ah...fuck. Kitten, Im sorry..."

He bit his lip, trying to suppress a groan as he sunk himself deeper, slowly at first, then with increasing urgency. The room filled with the sound of your bodies meeting, the creaking of the bed, and his ragged breaths. He could feel every inch of you, tight and warm around him. He wanted to savor this moment, to imprint it on his memory forever. He reached around, finding your clit with his fingers, rubbing in time with his thrusts. You moaned softly, still deeply asleep, arching your back to meet him.

"Mghn...S-sylus..."

He froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He was worried that you had woken up, that you would discover him inside you, and that everything would be ruined. He lay there, holding his breath, as he frantically thought of excuses, of ways to explain what was happening.

But as the seconds passed in silence, and you didn’t move, he began to ease—just slightly. He glanced over, searching your face for any sign that you were awake, that you knew. But your eyes stayed shut, your expression calm, untouched. Still lost in sleep.

You looked so docile, so innocent and soft with your mouth agape, small snores escaping your lips. He hates that he feels a rush of arousal looking at you in such a vulnerable state, peacefully sleeping in his bed.

He wondered if you were thinking you were having a dream, if your subconscious was responding to his presence inside you. The thought sent a thrill through him, and his cock twitched in your inner walls. Maybe you wanted him too? Even in your dreams?

As he began to thrust again, this time with a bit more force, he could feel the pressure building up inside him. The ache in his groin was becoming almost unbearable, and he knew he was on the verge of cumming. He groaned, the sound choked out of him as he struggled to maintain control.

But as he looked down at you, still asleep and unaware of what was happening, he knew he had to pull out. As much as he didn't want to, he couldn't risk finishing inside you. Surely you'd put two and two together when you woke up and he'd be caught.

With a strangled groan, he forced himself to pull out, his cock throbbing with the effort. He gripped the sides of your hip, holding himself up as he shot a hefty, sticky load of his cum all over your inner thighs. The sensation was intense, and he felt a wave of relief wash over him as he finally released the pent-up tension.

As he looked down at the mess he had made, he felt a pang of guilt and anxiety. What would you think if you woke up and found out what had happened? Would you be angry, would you be scared? He didn't know, and the uncertainty was eating away at him.

So he simply cleaned you up as best as he could, and when you awoke the next morning you were none the wiser. You did question the ache between your legs, but fortunately for him you simply chalked it up to pushing yourself too hard during the mission. Besides, your entire body hurt already. What was one more area?

He swore that would be the last time.

Except it wasn't.

You didn’t always spend the night, but when you did, it was usually because you were too tired to head home after a long day. Sylus would swing by and bring you back to Onychinus’s base without complaint. You’d shower, get comfortable, and eat whatever dinner he’d ordered the chef to make you—just like always.

Then the two of you would settle in. Maybe you’d watch a movie, maybe listen to one of his new records. It was an easy routine. Comfortable. Soothing.

Eventually, you’d get too tired to keep your eyes open, and drift off beside him on the couch.

Then he’d carry you to the bedroom—slow, careful, as if you might break in his arms. On the surface, it was about comfort. He wanted you to sleep well. To feel safe.

But underneath that was something more selfish. He wanted to test the limits. To see how close he could get, how much movement he could do before you would stir, how long his hands could linger on your skin.

Most nights, you didn’t even move. You stayed limp and warm in his arms, face tucked against his neck, breath slow and even. It should have calmed him.

Instead, it made things worse.

Guilt curled in his chest like smoke. You trusted him. Implicitly. You let yourself go completely in his care. And he hated how that trust made something coil low in his groin, thick with heat and desire to strip you down and plunge himself in your wet walls.

And that's exactly what he did. Night after night, he'd start carefully moving your underwear to the side, swiftly inserting the head of his hardened cock inside you, and fucking you until a creamy white ring of your juices formed around the base of his shaft. Touching your breasts, butt, and pussy in ways you'd never let him before. And just as he felt himself about to release, he'd quickly pull out, covering your soft skin in his cum. Sometimes it was your thighs, sometimes your back. He'd even gotten bold enough to do your face at one point.

To compensate for the guilt that gnawed at him every time he let himself fall into his dark cravings, Sylus had started buying you more gifts.

At first, it was subtle—a snack you liked, a book you’d mentioned in passing. But it escalated quickly. If you so much as glanced at something in a store window while the two of you were out, or paused a moment too long while scrolling on your phone, it would show up in your hands within days. Sometimes hours.

You noticed, of course. It was hard not to.

“Another one?” you’d ask, brow arched in amused suspicion as you unwrapped a new plushie, or a piece of jewelry that matched your favorite dress, or a gadget you’d casually mentioned needing just once.

When you asked him why he was suddenly giving you so much, he’d just shrug—casual, like it meant nothing.

“You've always been spoiled, why question it now?” he’d chuckle.

As if that explained everything.

And maybe it did. At least, enough to keep you from pressing further.

Because to him, each gift was a way to say I’m sorry I touched you too long, I’m sorry I wanted more than I should, I’m sorry I’m not being honest. I love you so much.

It was his way of trying to be good for you.

Even as the craving got harder to ignore.

Yes, even a simple yawn from you was enough to get him rock hard now.

He found himself unable to stop. Would you really blame him if you found out? You must clearly want it too...the way your body greedily sucked in his cock, squeezing around it like a warm, wet vice. It was as if your body was begging him not to pull out, to keep going, to keep giving you more. Every time he thrust into you, your muscles would contract, holding him in place, and then release, allowing him to slide back out, only to repeat the process again. It was a sensual, intoxicating rhythm, one that threatened to consume him whole.

And the soft little whines you made when he was stretching you out or when he pumped into you a little harder than he meant to drove him absolutely crazy...

He'd promptly cease his movements, gently shushing your little noises while he waited for you to calm.

"Im sorry, baby. I didn't mean it, stay asleep for me," he would coo, his voice a soft, gentle whisper, as he gazed down at your sleeping face. He would pause for a moment, his chest heaving with desire, as he struggled to control his own needs. But then, with a quiet sigh, he would resume his movements, his hips slowly rocking back and forth, his cock sliding in and out of you with a smooth, gentle rhythm.

As he moved, he would continue to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, his words a soothing balm to your sleeping form. "Just need to see you covered in my cum one more time..." His voice was a gentle hum, a vibration that seemed to resonate deep within your body, as he continued to pump into you.

He did this for several weeks, reassuring you whenever you began to grow concerned at the continued ache between your legs. Of course, you'd trust him. Relax after. He'd feel terrible but he'd tell himself it was for your own good. You just felt too good. Too soft, so warm.

Tonight was no different. You both were watching a new movie in his home theater this time, when you promptly yawned. Immediately he felt his breath get shallow, and his pants get tighter.

“Tired, kitten?” Sylus asked, his voice lower than usual—rough around the edges, like he was holding something back. He reached for the remote and shut off the screen, the soft click echoing in the quiet space between you.

You nodded through a sleepy stretch, arms lifting lazily above your head before collapsing into your lap.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, eyes already heavy. “We never finish these movies. I just…I don’t know. I’m always so tired now.”

There was a faint furrow in your brow as you said it—genuine regret, like falling asleep beside him was some kind of failure.

He leaned in without hesitation and kissed your forehead, slow and deliberate. His lips lingered there a moment longer than they needed to, soaking in the warmth of your skin.

“You don’t have to apologize for being sleepy,” he said softly, slipping one arm under your legs and the other around your back. “You’re welcome to come back and finish it any time.”

You didn’t respond.

He was rock hard now.

As he rose to his feet with you cradled in his arms, your body melted into him completely. Your head dropped to rest against his collarbone, lips parted in the beginnings of sleep. He felt the small puff of your breath against his neck—warm, steady.

Halfway down the hallway, he glanced down at you.

Out cold.

He smiled. There was something in your face when you slept—unguarded and soft. Your lashes fluttered faintly, cheek pressed against the curve of his chest like you belonged there.

“They must be working you to the bone,” he muttered to no one, voice barely audible.

Unfortunate for you.

But for him…

You felt incredibly wet and tighter tonight. He'd boldly set you on your back this time, not wanting to miss a single facial expression or noise. Even if it meant being more gentle than usual. He watched greedily as your breasts bounced up and down with his movements. He leaned down, hands on either side of your head, trying with strained effort to quiet his groans.

"How am I ever going to stop doing this to you? You feel so good," he hissed through his teeth, his voice a low, tortured whisper, as he struggled to keep his gentle rhythm. His cock was buried deep inside you, and with each thrust, he felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge. The sensation of his tip grazing your cervix was almost unbearable, threatening to overwhelm him.

He gritted his teeth, his jaw clenched in a fierce effort to hold back, but it was no use. The feeling of being inside you, of being surrounded by your warm, wet flesh, was too intense, too addictive. He couldn't get enough of it, couldn't get enough of you. And as he looked down at your sleeping face, he knew that he was doomed, trapped in a cycle of desire and pleasure that he couldn't escape.

His hips moved faster, his thrusts becoming more urgent, as he chased the sensation, as he sought to prolong the pleasure. And with each stroke, he felt himself getting closer, closer to the point of no return, closer to the moment when he would finally succumb to his desires and let go. "Hah...gonna cum...," he growled, his voice a low, animalistic snarl as he felt his orgasm building.

"Mmmm..."

As you began to squirm under him, your eyes peering open just a bit, but still not enough to be considered awake, he felt a surge of panic mixed with excitement. Were you waking up? He should stop, he knew he should, but he couldn't. He was too close, too caught up in the moment, too desperate to cum inside you.

He leaned in closer, his large body encasing yours, his warm breath whispering against your ear. "Shh...I'm almost there baby...don't wake up..." He pleaded, his voice a low, husky whisper, as he tried to calm you down, to keep you from waking up and discovering what was happening.

But you whine, sleepily grabbing onto his arms, your hands wrapping around his biceps like a vice. You clearly aren't aware enough to even realize what's happening, and he takes advantage of that, using it to his benefit. He continues to thrust into you, his hips moving faster, his cock pounding into your wet flesh with a relentless rhythm.

As he looks down at your face, he can see the faintest glimmer of awareness in your eyes, but it's not enough to stop him. He's too far gone, and he knows that he's going to cum inside you, no matter what. The thought sends a shiver down his spine, and he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Fuck..."

As he pushes as far as he can go, his hips stuttered, jerking forward with a mind of their own, as his cock pulsed, throbbing with the intense force of his release. As he came, he felt his cock unleash a torrent of cum, wave after wave of it flooding into your body, filling you to the brim. A wave of relief crashed over him, drowning out the relentless hunger that had been gnawing at him all night.

As he looked down at you, Sylus noticed you were starting to squirm again, your body shifting slightly under the covers. You were clearly on the verge of waking up. Your brows twitched, your breathing changed, and your fingers gave a small, unconscious twitch.

Thinking quickly, he moved to wrap himself around you, encasing your body in his arms in a way that was both protective and possessive. His chest pressed against your back, one arm curling securely around your waist, hand resting just beneath your ribs.

You let out a soft breath, eyes fluttering open for a brief moment—glazed, unfocused—before slowly slipping shut again. He felt your body melt against his, the subtle tension in your shoulders and spine easing as sleep reclaimed you. Your breathing evened out. You relaxed fully in his grasp.

Relieved, Sylus allowed himself a quiet breath of his own, feeling the tension in his body begin to dissipate as he gazed down at you. He looked down to see the remnants of his cum slipping down the trails of your thighs, a warm, sticky liquid that glistened in the dim light.

He would definitely have some explaining to do when you woke up...guess it was time to buy that cart full of items you'd been begging for...

1K notes · View notes