3rachachoo

[3rachachoo]

I like when the bus stops directly in front of you out of the line of waiting people and opens its doors. Chosen by the dragon

[3rachachoo]

Caleb’s flat on his back,eyes locked on you with a hunger that burns. His hands rest lazily behind his head, but you can feel the tension in his arms, the way his jaw clenches every time you drop your hips and take him deeper. You're riding him hard, your thighs already shaking, but the way he stretches you open — thick and perfect — drives you to keep going.

You're soaked, the obscene wet sound of your bodies meeting echoing in the space around you. Each bounce makes your tits sway, nipples hard and flushed, begging for attention. Caleb doesn’t touch — not yet. He watches, eyes dark, soaking in every twitch of your muscles, every tremble in your breath, every time you gasp when his cock hits that devastating spot inside you.

“Look at you,” he growls, voice low and wrecked. “Taking it so well. Fuck—you're squeezing me so tight, baby.”

Your hands press to his chest, nails raking over his skin, leaving angry red lines that make him hiss in pleasure. You can barely keep your eyes open— each grind of your hips steals your breath, your mouth slack in a moan you can’t hold back.

Caleb finally sits up, one hand gripping your ass while the other grabs a fistful of your hair, dragging your mouth down to his. His lips crash into yours, all tongue and heat, swallowing the broken sounds you make as you grind down on him harder.

“You wanted to be on top?” he mutters against your mouth. “Then fuckin’ show me.”

He thrusts up suddenly, meeting your hips with brutal force, making you cry out, thighs clenching. The rhythm grows frantic—bodies slick with sweat, your moans getting louder, more desperate. Your orgasm is building fast, white-hot and unforgiving.

Caleb feels it too, his hands tighten, his cock twitching deep inside you. “Cum on me,” he growls, voice rough and ragged. “Let me feel you lose it, sweetheart.”

And when it hits, you shatter, head thrown back, walls clenching around him as you scream his name. Caleb doesn’t stop. He fucks you through it, chasing his own release until he’s spilling deep inside, groaning your name like it’s the only thing that matters in the universe.

You collapse onto him, breathless and wrecked, and only then does he hold you close fingertips ghosting down your spine as he kisses your shoulder.

[3rachachoo]

Sylus hates his neck being touched.

You came to this realization one night when sitting on the couch beside him. Your fingers making their way to pinch at his ear lobe when he wouldn’t give you the remote. His neck hadn’t been your target, but his shoulder immediately shot up to block it off entirely at the sight of your fingers.

You didn’t mention it, acted like you didn’t even catch the very obvious flinch, and pinched his earlobe as planned. Last thing you wanted was to make him uncomfortable, it wasn’t even worth teasing him over.

Ever since, you’ve made a mental note of steering clear of Sylus’ neck… until now.

Your fingers found their anchor on the silk of Sylus’ shirt, fisting the material so tightly you felt as if it would rip apart under your hold. “Sy, please…” you needed him to hold you harder, kiss you harder, as if his presence wasn’t already all consuming. All you could see, taste, feel, smell, hear.

He flooded each of your senses, warm hands splayed across your hips and subtly guiding you in a rocking motion. “Please what?” Hushed, as if it physically hurt him to pull away from your lips for that long.

You could only manage a whine as his lips melting into yours again, the kisses bruising and wet. You’re losing yourself in him, so dazed by the force of his love that your fingers unravel from his clothing and slide inward.

Somewhere in your haze, you had known your intention was to cup his face. You needed to keep him close.

And, yet? Your hands had stopped once they wrapped around the column of his neck. Your hold wasn’t hard, nor was it restricting. But a gentle presence, a warm weight.

Sylus moaned audibly, making your eyes fly open with a gasp when you realized where your hands had stopped. There was a slew of apologizes on your tongue, ready to let go and beg for his forgiveness for crossing such a line.

Instead? Sylus shoved his tongue past your parted lips. A large hand leaving your waist to grab the back of your neck and pull you against him harder than before. He liked it.

[3rachachoo]

No thoughts, just Sylus with a free use kink...

Not with you, though. No, consent is too important for him to take advantage of you whenever he saw fit, he's not comfortable with it.

But being on the receiving end...

He's not sure what it is, maybe how comfortable you are with him, ready to just take what you need when you need it.

Imagine him, sitting in his office on call with some very important business partners and you trot on in, kicking the door shut behind you.

He looks at you quizzically but remains silent as you look down at his crotch and back up at him with a hilariously innocent expression. But you're not asking, you're telling.

He remains silent as you unbuckle his belt and pull down his slacks, freeing his soft length from his briefs and causing his breath to hitch.

He struggles to keep his voice even as he continues discussing deals and shipments, even as his menace of a girlfriend sinks down on his now hard cock, sighing directly into his ear and beginning to roll her hips leisurely, taking what she needs without asking.

And you don't have to ask, you never have to ask for anything when you're with him. He'll gladly give you everything. His body, his heart, his money, all with the same lovesick smirk on his face.

"Anything for you, sweetie."

[3rachachoo]

Big bad King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna walking into his court n’ everyone’s wondering then their lord got even more tattoos across his broad back and hips- only to take a second look and not look at him again for the rest of the court session if they can help it. 

Because those aren’t tattoos- they’re bruises and scratches. All this time they wondered how firmly the king was in control, but it seems that you’re the human with the reins.

[3rachachoo]

If you were an art piece, then whoever created you must have loved you dearly-

🐈‍⬛

[3rachachoo]

Imagine Colonel Caleb using his bionic arm and gravity evol on you during sex...

warnings: iron grip during sex,

Caleb is holding you in place using his bionic arm while he fucks you rough, hard, almost merciless. "Do you know how many nights I've thought about this exact scenario? I've waited for you for so long, I'm never gonna let you go."

He loves seeing you like this, holding you close to him. It gives him the feeling of security that nobody can ever take you away from him ever again. Having your legs spread while in missionary gives him the perfect view of his dick going in and out of your pussy. Hearing how you squelch around him.

As if his iron grip wasn't enough, he's also using his evol on you to keep you moving away from him on the bed while he deeply pounds into you. You can feel every inch and vein on his dick while he basically carves himself into you. His dogtag necklace dangles from his neck onto your face.

Fwop fwop fwop

The bedroom echoes with a mixture of your moans, groans, and the sound of your hips slapping against each other. Caleb chuckles seeing your mouth open and drooling, barely making eye contact with him as he uses your pretty hole for his and your pleasure.

He carefully lowers his neck down enough until his necklace is right on the tongue of your mouth. "Take it." He mutters eyeing you intently. You whimper before taking the dogtag between your lips, tongue slobbering all over it. Caleb groans, his hips going at an even faster rate with his tip brushing over your g spot at each thrust.

"Fu- ck! Keep taking baby, take it... like the good girl you are. Not- not gonna stop- ngh, until you're covered of me." There's just something about seeing something of his inside of you that turns him on. Something... like a baby, perhaps.

Staring at your fucked out beautiful face, down to your marked neck and chest area, he notices a pretty evident buldge forming on your stomach. Shit.

Caleb gives you one deep thrust and decides to stay pressed inside as he admires your tummy while loving your pussy spasms around his dick. "Taking me so well that I'm forming a bulge on your tummy, ya feel that princess? Feels good hm."

He doesn't know how many times the either of you have cum. Nor does he care, honestly. All he has on his mind right now is how beautiful you'd look as a mother to his children. Doesn't give a damn about the gender, long as he has at least three.

[3rachachoo]

Imagine your husband, once casual about the idea of kids, now utterly consumed with baby fever.

It started when he caught you holding a friend’s baby—soft smiles, gentle arms, eyes glowing with tenderness. Something shifted in him. He couldn’t unsee how perfect you looked like that. And when your smile slipped, just a little, seeing everyone else build their families without you… he noticed. That was the moment he knew.

Now, he can’t stop imagining it.

A little one clinging to your leg, laughing with your smile and his eyes. The thought drives him wild. Every time he’s deep inside you, he stays a little longer, as if the heat of his need alone could root a new life inside you. His hand presses firm against your belly, whispering that he’ll give you everything—his love, his future, your baby.

Nights turn feverish.

Face down, ass up, he pounds into you, chanting between moans, “Let me give you a baby… please, let me put one in you.”

Some nights you wake to his mouth on you, tongue desperate, muttering how he needs to taste you before he fills you again. Your cunt, soaked with his cum, becomes his obsession—how you leak for him, how your body trembles with need.

And when you cockwarm him, his cock throbs with longing, a growl low in his throat—“I want to breed you so bad.”

When you finally break, whimpering for him to fuck a baby into you, he’s already clearing his schedule. Two weeks off. Just the two of you. He will make you his perfect little family.

[3rachachoo]

₊˚⊹♡ welcome home !!

summary: the mission's over, he's safe. but something in caleb still burns, and you're the only way he knows how to cool it down. tags: NSFW, established relationship, rough sex, dry humping, unprotected sex, slight dom!caleb

Caleb is the type to fuck you right when he gets home from a long mission. 

The door hardly shuts by the time he gets his hands on you. No “hi” before you're crushed into him, one arm tight around your waist, the other fisting into your shirt, kissing you like he's dying for it. He's hard in seconds, grinding his dick against your hip like it hurts. 

“Missed you,” he mutters, dragging his mouth down your neck.

“Missed this.” 

And fuck, how he loves it when you pull him closer by that damn dog tag. 

He groans—low, guttural—and pants against your skin like a man undone. “Thought about you every night,” he growls, a hand slipping under your waistband, fingers greedy. “In bed, in the shower—couldn’t even hear your name without getting hard. Couldn’t think straight.” 

His fingers find you soaked, his touch practiced but shaking with restraint. When he hits your clit—pressing, circling, teasing—you cry out, hips stuttering against him.

“You should’ve heard me,” he rasps, teeth grazing your ear. “Trying to jerk off quietly. Thinking about you bent over for me, moaning my name, dripping for it.”

You can barely breathe, barely stand, your legs threatening to give out beneath the force of his hand and the heat blooming low in your belly.

He catches you like always: one hand steady at your back, the other working tighter circles against your swollen bud until you’re whining into his shoulder, hips chasing his palm like you’ve got no shame.

“Just like that,” he pants. “Fuck—that's my girl. That’s what I missed. The way you melt for me. The way you need it.”

He drags his jacket off in one fluid movement, the heavy fabric falling to the floor without a second thought. His hands are on your thighs next—lifting, wrapping your legs around his waist like it’s nothing. Your back slams into the wall, and he grinds into you again, dick thick and pulsing through his pants.

“I’m not waiting,” he snarls, fumbling your pants down with one hand, the other still bracing you like it’s effortless. “Don’t need the bed. Don’t need to be gentle. I need you now.”

You manage to nod, and that’s all he needs.

He frees himself in seconds, belt already undone, zipper halfway down. His cock is flushed, hard, twitching in his hand as he strokes himself once, twice, just to hold off the edge.

“Gonna fuck you full,” he says, voice low and wrecked. “Not pulling out. Not after the week I’ve had.” 

He presses the tip against your entrance, dragging it through your slick folds with a shaky groan. He doesn’t push in yet, just nudges, teases, until your thighs are trembling around his waist, breath catching with every pulse. 

“So wet,” he grits. “You missed me too, huh? Say it.” 

“I missed you,” you gasp, nails clawing at his back. 

He smiles, breath ghosting your cheek. “That’s more like it.”

And then—he thrusts in. 

One slow, brutal push that stretches you open, drags the air from your lungs, and knocks all thoughts clean out of your head. 

“Fuck,” he groans, forehead pressed to yours, hands flush against your ass. “There you are. So fucking tight. Made for me. “ 

He doesn’t move right away. He just holds you there: impaled, stuffed full, belly bulging with the imprint of his cock. 

Your walls flutter helplessly around him, and Caleb’s grin turns feral.

“I could stay like this,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth, then your jaw. “Right here. Balls deep. Never leaving again.” 

But he does move.

He pulls out slowly, leaving you empty for just a heartbeat, then slams back in with a harsh grunt. 

The rhythm builds fast—brutal, hungry, like he’s cramming every day apart into the space between thrusts. Each pump hits your cervix, dragging cries from your throat, his name tangled in each and every one. 

You’re close already. It’s building fast—too fast. How fucking much did you miss him for you to want to cum this quick? 

“Feeling close, sweetheart?” he pants, voice rough. “Come on. Want to feel you fall apart.” 

You arch your back, hands trembling. 

“Fuck—there it is,” he growls, slamming into you again.

You break.

The orgasm rips through you hard—legs shaking, nails digging into his shoulders, walls fluttering around him. You sob his name as you cum, clenching so tight around his cock it drags a noise from his chest that sounds like he’s choking on it.

“Fuck, Caleb!”

You can feel him unravelling, too. 

His hips jerk, pace faltering, grip bruising and tight on your hips like he’s trying to hold the whole world together with just your body. 

“Shit—fuck—you feel too good,” he gasps, burying his face in your neck. “I’m not gonna last either, pips.” 

You can barely answer, your knees wobbling, core aching, and his dick dragging so deep you swear he’s reaching your soul. Your grip tightens around his shoulders, grounding yourself in the one thing that feels real—him. 

“Fuck—fuck—take it,” he growls. 

He slams into you one last time, staying there, buried completely to the hilt. And then it hits—a twitch, a shiver down his spine, his cock pulsing as he cums with a whine ripped straight from his chest.

He holds you through it, thrusts slow and heavy, dragging every last spurt as he fills you. You feel it leak around where you both are connected, dripping down your thighs, soaking both of you. 

And still, he doesn’t pull out.  

He stays there, arms wrapped around you like you’re the only thing anchoring him. 

“I fucking hate leaving you,” he murmurs, finally, forehead resting against yours. He looks completely spent. 

You lean into him. 

Then, quieter, more certain, more him—

“Next time I come home?”

He kisses your neck. “I’m fucking you before the door even closes.”

Anyways... more caleb here :)

[3rachachoo]

"did i tell u this already?" we are in a timeloop and i am in love with u tell me again

[3rachachoo]

You’ve worn Caleb's things before: hoodies when you forgot yours, old shirts during late-night movies, his flight jacket once during a storm. He never mentioned it. Never made it weird. 

But now that you’re dating? 

It’s different. 

He walks in—still half-tired from a morning run, headphones looped around his neck—and sees you in one of his old academy tees, one that you definitely weren’t wearing when he left. It’s soft, old, and hangs off your frame like it belongs there. 

“Whoa, hold on,” He pauses mid-step, blinking once. Then again, like it’ll make a difference. 

You glance up, confused. “What?” 

He gestures vaguely. “That’s my shirt.”

“Yeah,” you shrug. “It was clean. Sort of.” 

He tilts his head, eyes flickering over you slowly. 

“Okay,” he says, voice steady. “See, that’s not fair.” 

“What isn’t?”

“You. In that.” he motions aimlessly, as if the sight of you short-circuited his vocabulary. 

“It’s just your shirt.” 

“Yeah, and this is exactly how people end up late to work.” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face like it might cool him off. “I was supposed to be productive today.” 

You raise a brow. “And you can’t be… because of a t-shirt?” 

“Because it’s my t-shirt. And you’re walking around in it like that’s not a weapon.” 

You laugh, turning back towards the coffee machine—but he keeps watching you, arms crossed, jaw working like he’s debating something. 

Then, quieter: “You gonna give it back?” 

“Why? You feeling territorial now?” you tease. 

His mouth twitches into a smirk. “Nah. I just wanna know if I should keep it under my pillow for later.” 

You pause. 

“...You mean to wear it again?” 

He shrugs casually. “Sure. That too.”

[3rachachoo]

thinking abt boyfriend!caleb...

boyfriend!caleb who fixes everything without you even needing to ask. drawer sticking? already taken care of. lamp flickering? rewired it. he doesn't tell you—he just watches as you notice it later and coyly grins into his coffee. 

boyfriend!caleb who claims he's not tired after a long mission, only for you to find him half-asleep on the couch, boots still on and one arm curled around a pillow. His mouth is slack, just barely drooling onto the fabric, grumbling something unintelligible as you try to take off his shoes for him. 

boyfriend!caleb who never talks about his nightmares, but you know he has them. sometimes you wake to find him already staring at the ceiling, eyes tired and fingers quietly tracing his necklace. you don't press—you just reach for his hand under the covers, and he squeezes back like that's all he needed to fall back asleep again. 

boyfriend!caleb who always insists on carrying the groceries, your bags, or even your water bottle if you're out walking together. “what kind of man would I be if I let you haul this on your own?” he says, smug—but you catch him sneaking glances at your smile every time. 

boyfriend!caleb who brushes your hair behind your ear while you're half-asleep just to get a better look at your face. when your eyes flutter open, he’s still staring, mischief in his voice as he mutters, “would you look at that—i’m still not dreaming. guess i’m really stuck with you after all, pips.” 

boyfriend!caleb who likes it when you sit on the counter while he cooks. Not because it's helpful, but because he likes having you close, swinging your legs and stealing tastes while he pretends to scold you. “that’s for the plate, not your fingers. …okay, one more.” you’re lucky you're cute. 

boyfriend!caleb who doesn't say he's jealous, but suddenly gets a lot clingier after someone else makes you laugh. an arm slung around your waist, chin hooked over your shoulder, voice low and casual as he asks, “new friend of yours?” as much as you tease, he just hums and pulls you closer. “didn't know I needed to remind you who you belong to.” 

boyfriend!caleb who hates fighting with you—not because he can't argue, but because he refuses to let it wedge between you. even if he's still annoyed, he'll find you in the dark, sliding his arm around your torso, voice firm. “we’re not ending the night like this. i’m mad, you're mad, fine. but i’m not losing sleep over something we can fix. not with you.” 

boyfriend!caleb who pouts when you steal his jackets, but always makes sure the next one you take smells freshly laundered and has something tucked in its pocket—a wrapped candy, a scribbled note, a folded paper star—something small. something tender. something that’s his. 

boyfriend!caleb who doesn't flinch when you're angry because he wants you to feel safe expressing anything with him. he lowers his voice, softens his expression and says, “okay, hit me with it. no shields.” and he listens. 

boyfriend!caleb who dreams of a small life away from the fleet, from Ever, from everything. a place where no one knows his name, where the two of you can be ordinary. even when you blow off the prospect, he’s already mapped it out in his head, blueprints and all. 

boyfriend!caleb who doesn't let you see how much it kills him that he's part machine. but every time your fingers brush the metal of his arm, and you don't flinch—every time you press your lips to the cold and say, “still you”—something in him stitches back together. 

boyfriend!caleb who can't stop watching you when you're distracted. reading, cooking, tying your shoes, it doesn't matter. he stares like you're the most fascinating thing in the world. and when you catch him, he just shrugs. “what? can't look at my beautiful girl?” 

boyfriend!caleb who says “mine” under his breath when he kisses you. it’s not about ownership, it’s about fear. like he still can’t believe you chose him. like if he doesn’t say it out loud, the world might steal you back. 

boyfriend!caleb who has contingency plans for if you go missing. not because he doesn't trust you (at least, for the most part), but because the world is dangerous. he's memorized every route of town, planted caches, and learned the faces and names of potential threats. you’ll never know how deep it goes. 

boyfriend!caleb who keeps a photo of you hidden behind the inner clasp of his uniform, its surface creased and edges softened by time and touch. no one knows it's there, not even you—but when the world turns brutal, pressures high and hands bloody, he’ll press his fingers to it like a lifeline. and sometimes, when no one's looking, he unfolds it—just for a moment—and allows his eyes to soften in a way his subordinates never see. you’re his axis. his anchor. his only constant in a world of smoke and lies. he’d crawl through fire, through blood, and through everything he hates about himself just to come home to you. 

Anyways... more Caleb here :)

[3rachachoo]

LaDs: You have a High Libido

~ inspired by an anon’s ask!

~ all love interests included

Warning, this post contains: smut, 18+ content, mentions of sex, sweat, cum, bodily fluids, you get the idea.

Xavier

⭐️He is thrilled actually, because so does he

⭐️Don’t let the sleepy tendencies fool you, Xavier is ready to go whenever (and wherever) you are

⭐️You can push him past his limits, even out do him in the horny department, and he’ll still attempt to keep up

“Again?” You’re both breathless, cheeks red and bodies sweaty. The room reeks of sex and sweat, with the comforting mix of your perfume and his cologne. The sheets are damp with your combined fluids, a variety of them for that matter. Sweat, drool, cum… definitely a wash day tomorrow! “Yes, please. I still need you Xavier.” You’ve cum so many times you’ve lost count, poor cunt so puffy that it’s a miracle you can even feel anything down there. Still, it’s aching, throbbing with need, you need him again. “Sure, baby.” And he’s on you, a worn out smile on his lips as he showers your heated skin in wet kisses. You can — and will — go until sunrise

Rafayel

🎨Rafayel’s libido on a normal day is pretty decent, he’s down whenever you are and that’s… often

🎨It takes him some time to build his stamina… unless it’s ebb day. Lemurian heat cycles are something else.

🎨He breaks before you do, but all it takes is the off hand comment of “I’ll finish myself” and he’s ready to go

“You’re tired, Raf. I’ll just go take care of—“ tired be damned, he’s hauling his sweat slicked body up and pushing you down again. “I won’t stop until you’re satisfied.” His cheeks are a permanent crimson, pupils blown wide. Even if he is exhausted, his cock is still twitching at the sight of your ruined cunt. So much cum, arousal, all just leaking down your thighs. You’ve been going at it for two hours at this point, nonstop, barely a break between each round. Even if you didn’t mean too, you’re slowly training your lover to have a libido as high as yours. “It’s okay, re-really I can—shit!” He stops all complaints by shoving himself inside, one easy, slipper go. “I’m. Not. Stopping. Until you are satisfied, cutie.”

Zayne

🩺Zayne doesn’t quite know what to do with himself at first. He’s a tad bit overwhelmed by your high libido.

🩺Give him a little time, he’ll get used to it, and slowly realize his libido is pretty high up there too… just takes a couple weeks of separation and he’s ravenous

🩺Zayne controls the situation by edging you both, keeping the game going until you’re both exhausted

“Can’t cum yet, darling. Gotta hold it in.” It’s been an hour… maybe two? Possibly three. You’re not sure, nor do you care. You have Zayne wrapped around your finger… well maybe he had you wrapped around his finger but still. “P-please, Zayne! You’ve ruined it like…shit I can’t remember… seven times? Probably more…” what’s worse than being completely denied is having your orgasm ruined. He’s brought you to the edge, pushed you over, and then stood back and watched it fizzle out. Completely unsatisfying, your poor cunt twitching for more, a real one at that. “You’re doing so good for me though, the reward will be so good if you just…” a gentle motion with his fingers and you’re jerking into him. “…wait.”

Sylus

🍒He didn’t realize that your… eagerness could rub off on him so easily… or maybe he’s always been this way.

🍒Your high libido is damn near torture, considering you’re in Linkon and he’s in the N109 Zone… you’re always tied up with work, he’s always away for business…

🍒Even then, Sylus does try and make it so your time together isn’t entirely… sex. Doesn’t it always work? No.

“I swear all we do is fuck when we see eachother…” you’re giggling as you say it, laying on top of him, chest to chest. His slowly softening cock is begin to slip out of you, the copious amounts of release following. “Because it is all we do… you’re insatiable.” Sweaty and flushed, but still smug, Sylus is twirling your hair around his fingers. “Hey!” A smack lands on his sweaty shoulder and he’s laughing. “You’re one to talk, mister.” But Sylus isn’t letting you live it down that easily. “You made me this way… nothing but a greedy soul.” And just like that, you can feel him hardening again. He studies your expression, tear stained cheeks and flushed skin. So beautiful, even as your lips part in a little “o” as he fills you up.

Caleb

🪐You thought your libido was high… till Caleb finally stopped holding his feelings back

🪐He is on cloud nine when he finds out you’re just as horny as he is 24/7

🪐He’ll travel to and from Linkon if it means getting that pussy for the night. You have zero complaints either, other than maybe the fact that you wished he didn’t live so far

“You’re going to miss… miss…. Caleb!” His hips pound into you, every time you attempt to remind him about missing his train back to Skyhaven he just thrusts harder. “Such a weird way to say that I’m fucking you so damn good, I think a thank you is in order.” He’s nearly in your stomach and he has the audacity to be sassy. You give up on trying to remind him, as if you wouldn’t call off work the next day just to keep him tied down to your bed, balls deep like you had been so boldly begging him for over text a few hours earlier. You’re going to get a noise complaint, maybe even a notice from the city since you have your windows open. The room reeked of sex after all, you needed something to clear your fogged up heads.

[3rachachoo]

Funny red button

[3rachachoo]

what’s it called when you’re so disconnected from reality that cold water doesn’t feel like anything and you can barely taste food anymore

[3rachachoo]

🫡🛌

[3rachachoo]

Don't worry, the second drawing shows how it really is, isn't a sweetheart? <3 You can read something in the water of my dear @/andypantsx3 I made this art especially for his amazing writing a while ago