#I will get at least one out today

[entomolog-t]

uvula-anon here. I don't mean to nag, but just checking in in case my ask had been forgotten.

I also asked my psychologist where they thought about my "comfort fetish" for uvulas came from, and they were just absolutely baffled.

Hey Uvula Anon!

Don't worry! I haven't forgot about you <3 I've got quite the queue for the trope psychology asks, and I usually try to do each one in a single shot so they're a bit harder to squeak out than sketches I can periodically work on.

However it's been a little while since I've done any, so I'll try to get a couple out today (including yours 😙)

I'm super curious if they said anything at all or if they were just totally taken aback! You've definitely peaked my curiosity with your fixation and I'm excited to try and pick it apart!!

Not just to you, but as a general rule of thumb I do not delete asks! I may take a stupidly long time to answer some, but they eventually will get answered 💕 My inbox is currently at 106 I think, and the goal is to get that to below 60 by the end of January !! (Might be a bit ambitious, but we shall see)

[toasteaa]

Hmm,,,

Wriothesley kisses you like you're fragile. Delicate. He'd long thought feelings of love, safety, and trust as fleeting. Long ascribed to the thought that as long as he was useful, as long as he could perform his duties, that these conditional sentiments would pitter in like rare rewards. And where rewards come, so too do expectations and bartering. It's expected. He knows nothing is given freely in the Fortress of Meropide. And yet - Another kiss. Softly, gently; as though he wants to memorize the shape of your lips, the taste of your tongue, the cresting sighs and gentle, lilting lulls of his name he pulls from you with each kiss. A teasing nip to remind you of what comes later. A stark yet gentle reminder to himself that you're safe. That you're his safety. You give yourself to him freely. Unconditionally. You return every kiss with sincerity, meet each of his desires with utterances of love (or what he hopes, oh Archons, with what he hopes is love), and he's lost. Gone adrift in a sea of reverence and gratefulness. To you, always to you. And even when those gentle kisses turn to teasing bites, when murmured declarations he can't fully bring himself to believe become clothes strewn across his room, he knows. You're neither fragile nor delicate; but he'll be damned before he breaks you like he breaks everything else.

[gin-juice-tonic]

hate when my sort of "inner thoughts" voice changes from sounding like mine to sounding like someone else who I heard talk a lot that day. I dont know how relatable this is but its a frustrating experience.

[doodleodds]

Happy Valentines, Akira. Happy Valentines, Asshole.

If you can’t read what Akechi’s secondary inner-dialogue says cause I obscured it too much behind his regular dialogue, here’s a transcription in panel order: Hello, you fucking- Ah- Hello, Akira! Fuck off, why should I tell you- Just a soda- there’s a new flavor.

I don’t want your shitty gift. Oh- haha! You’re so sweet.

I hope I choke. They’re lovely, thank you.

Like hell. Likewise. There’s no way it’s just a coincidence. Still though, it’s a funny coincidence.

[anna-scribbles]

h-how do you ever finish any of your work? genuine question because you seem to be productive despite your agreste syndrome and I need to learn your ways. but also how do you ever finish any of your work

unclear. last night i stayed up and finished a report worth 25% of my grade at about 5am, arrived on time for my 9am lecture, and spent about half of it zoned out while thinking about seventeen year old emilie agreste. and i was one of the most active participants in the class discussion

[virgo-dream]

deep sea dreams 🪼🪸

dream of the endless as a very daunting phantom jellyfish (stygiomedusa gigantea) as suggested by @softest-punk ✨

[skyyxlite]

happy valentines day, from gogeta to you! i wonder what’s got vegito so nervous…

(face closeups under the cut :3)

[helielune]

i'll angel in the snow until i'm worthy (snow angel)

[muffinlance]

Interest Check: Isopuppy Plushies

Anyone interested in buying isopuppy plushies?

Either as a pattern or actual sewn-by-me toys. Because I have crocheted So Many Toys over my children, and I am thinking it's time to go back to sewing for awhile, but I should also stop rampantly making toys without homes to send them to. So. Casual interest check. I am absolutely making one for myself; this just determines if I should go through the effort of making an actual pattern so I can replicate the process.

[cerise-on-top]

Hey love bug! Guess who's backkkkk😍can you do farah and Kate laswell comforting reader with a headache bc I have one right now probably because I eat a shit ton of sugar and haven't drank water since the last ice age

Hey there! Please drink some water! I know you sent that request in a few days ago, but I hope you're feeling better now!

Farah and Laswell with a Reader with a Headache

Farah: She’d get fussy over you and demand you drink some water immediately. Won’t say too much while handing you a big glass of water, though. You better drink half of it in one go and gradually drink the rest of it sooner rather than later. She makes sure that you will drink the water and refills the glass as well, doesn’t matter how much you complain. She can be stern when she needs to be and this is one of those times. She doesn’t immediately grab some headache meds, though, opting for literally everything else first. Drink some water, go to bed at a reasonable time, take a long nap, just rest up, that sort of stuff. Only when the headache doesn’t seem to be going away will she resort to giving you some meds. Or when it worsens, whichever comes first. However, if it’s just a headache because you haven’t slept well in a while, then she’ll usher you to sleep while she does most of the housework. Will be quiet while she does so, however. She’s a very competent sniper, she knows how to be quiet while doing something.

Laswell: Like Farah, she would not be very pleased with you not drinking much, or any, water. Will give you the nearest bottle of water she can grab, even one with a flavor you like to give you more of an incentive to drink it. Will also make sure that you actually drink it, she’ll stand beside you and watch you down the water bottle, leave and emerge with a new one in hand. Will also use meds as a last resort sort of thing and tries everything else before that. It’s not that she’s against using medication, but using too much of it can lessen its effectiveness, so she’d prefer you take a nap or go to bed to make it go away. If the headache won’t go away or gets worse then, like Farah, she’ll grab the meds and give you some. Will also usher you to bed if you’re not feeling well, she’ll leave you alone for the time being. Cooks dinner for you and her and only calls you when it’s time to eat. Afterwards it’s time for you to go to bed again and sleep the headache off. Laswell can handle herself and the housework in the meantime, but she will be a little more stern with you if you decide to wake up for no good reason. You will be sleeping it off, whether you like it or not.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Some (late) holiday photos of the boye~!

[ibetittering]

Never thought I'd edit Sarge to Mitski but here we are

[queerdiazs]

tease tidbit tuesday <3

i was tagged by @callmenewbie, @wildlife4life, @try-set-me-on-fire, @disasterbuckdiaz, @rogerzsteven, @hippolotamus, @giddyupbuck, @ladydorian05, @daffi-990, @jesuisici33, @loserdiaz, and @wikiangela mwah 🫶🏼

have a long tease from hoa eddie, where eddie's grossly in love with buck's big tits and honestly i can't blame him

Eddie sighs, turns around, and nearly runs right into Buck’s big, naked, hairy chest.  “Eddie—” “Where’s your shirt?”  Buck blinks. “I was mowing the yard and I got hot,” he replies, shrugging sheepishly.  He wants to bitch at Buck for mowing the yard, for taking his shirt off and getting grass all over himself, for inadvertently causing a scene because his big fat bleeding heart always seems to get him in trouble, but it’s Buck, sweet and stubborn and soft Buck, and he’s standing in front of Eddie, bare-chested and sweaty and a little breathless with blue eyes so large and wide and childlike, expecting Eddie to be upset when he’s not, not in the slightest, and all Eddie can do is smile and undo the snaps on his button down when he realizes Buck’s shivering, cold and clammy now that the sun has set. He has another shirt beneath, anyway.  “Grass is worse than sand, Buck,” he says, handing his shirt over. “Put this on. You’ll want to shower as soon as you can, so just stay the night again. I’ve got a load of your clothes in the dyer.”  Buck does as he’s told, pulling on the button down. It’s a size too small, dragging across his broad shoulders and barreled chest; the buttons stretch open over his torso, giving Eddie a peak of the curly hair between his tits, and his nipples are hard, tiny nubs beneath the fabric that draw Eddie’s attention, and he licks his lips. He’s seen Buck shirtless a hundred times before, sure, but he never realized how huge Buck’s tits really were until now, so big beneath his shirt they stick out like actual boobs.  He wonders how heavy they’d feel in his hands, if Buck would make pretty sounds when he squeezed the fat or pinched his nipples till they’re red and swollen.  Huh. That’s new. 

gonna no pressure tag @honestlydarkprincess, @eddiediaztho, @eddiebabygirldiaz, @eowon, @watchyourbuck, @exhuastedpigeon, @thewolvesof1998, @shitouttabuck, @housewifebuck, and whoever else mwah mwah

[tj-crochets]

Another woodland flannel baby quilt! This one took a little less than four hours from start to finish, including ironing and cutting out the pieces

[todayisafridaynight]

matrophobia

[alectoperdita]

Oh hell, I am all about them drugged confessions. If/whenever you’re up for it. 💕

From Put That Guy in a Situation(TM) Ask Game

Jumped this one ahead in the queue since it's someone's birthday. 💜💜💜 Enjoy, my friend! I hope this has enough of the stuff you dig about them.

13. Drunken/drugged/sleepy confessions

content warnings: referenced non-consensual drug use and mildly spicy because Seto is thirsty

---

The city lights stabbed into Seto's eyes. The city's heartbeat—a frantic cacophony of bumper-to-bumper traffic, music spilling out of late-night shops and restaurants, and an overwhelming pulse of humanity—pulsed against the back of his head like a second migraine.

He lifted his heavy head and tried to get a better look at his surroundings. Not an easy feat when the world wouldn't stop spinning. Seto could feel the planet's rotational force itself.

In the sky, a bloated, sickly yellow moon hung on the black canvas, a dim bulb when compared to the Oriental Pearl Tower's neon blue and magenta on the opposite riverbank. The phalanx of lit skyscrapers behind the landmark formed a blinding wall that threatened to lighten the night sky.

No wonder they were sitting at a standstill in traffic. He was in the Bund. Shanghai. He was in Shanghai. Not for the first or second time, but the city's nightlife never failed to overwhelm.

It came back to him in bits and pieces. The Pan-Asia Duel Monsters Championship was in China this year, which KC was a sponsor of, along with a dozen international and domestic corporations. Seto wasn't here to compete, though. He was here to do business and build guanxi.

Which meant night after night of hard drinking and tedious back slapping as Seto endured their patronizing compliments about his passable Mandarin. Endless rounds of maotai until his blood must be 90% alcohol. That was the preferred poison of the old-school elites, the ones who built their wealth on the backs of a rapidly booming economy that outpaced everyone's wildest imagination. Not even Japan had sustained that kind of boom in the post-war years.

Potential liver failure was the price of doing business in this country.

That was last night, though. Seto was sure of that much, even if the passage of time seemed theoretical at best. Tonight, he'd been swept into a gaggle of their children, mainly the sons of the previous night's party officials and business moguls.

The fuerdai. His "peers."

Ha! Gozaburo had handed him nothing. Everything Seto owned, everything he accomplished, was through his own sweat and blood.

Seto will give them one thing: their tastes were decidedly less provincial. While their fathers drank baijiu like fish drinking water, they preferred cocktails, or at least pitchers of iced green tea mixed with Crown Royal.

Maybe that was his first mistake. Maybe he shouldn't have underestimated how fucked up he could get on such a simple mixture.

That was the last thing he could remember. He drew a yawning gap between the afterparty at the club and this taxi cab.

Seto sank into the seat and squeezed his eyes shut. His stomach lurched. Perhaps it was a good thing that they were stuck in traffic. He might not be able to keep it down in stop-and-go traffic.

An abrasive—a familiar abrasive voice—encroached from the fringes, though. An equally combative voice shot back in a different language.

Seto's head lolled to the side, away from the window and toward the other passenger in the backseat. Reluctantly, he pried his heavy eyelids open. God, why was he so tired? It felt like he'd pulled several all-nighters in a row.

His fellow passenger was Jounouchi, locked in a heated conversation/argument with the cab driver.

Right. Jounouchi was also in Shanghai this week. Except he was here to compete in the tournament. And unlike Seto, he didn't speak a lick of Chinese.

Not that his laughable grasp of English fared any better.

"Fuck, I'm telling ya, it's the other Marriott!" Jounouchi groaned in Japanese, running a frustrated hand through his bird's nest hair. It looked softer than it had any right to be, though. The strands ought to be bleached to hell and back after this many years.

But Jounouchi had been updating his wardrobe and his deck in recent years. Every victory advanced his look and style, and even netted him some media training like someone deserving of media notice, which was why he was playing in the Pan-Asian championship. Seto couldn't ignore him like he once did, like he still tried to in vain sometimes.

(And sometimes, he very much didn't want to ignore Jounouchi, wondering if he could catch the other man's attention in return...)

None of that explained why they were in the same cab, though.

Jounouchi tried again to communicate. It hurt to listen to him butcher English to that extent. The cab driver appeared to grow even more irate, threatening to eject them entirely.

Giggles spilled uncontrollably out of him. Of course! Of course, Jounouchi's incompetence got them stranded on the opposite end of the city from their hotel.

Fortunately, he was a snack to look at, even if his brains were nothing to write home about.

Seto's words croaked out of him, repeating in Mandarin what Jounouchi had been trying to convey. God, why did it hurt so much to speak? But even his drunken slur sufficed, earning a grousing retort from the driver that Seto should've just said so sooner while shooting a death glare at his other passenger through the rearview mirror.

At the sound of Seto's voice, Jounouchi jolted in shock, releasing the driver's headrest he had been clinging to. After several awkward moments of staring, he inched closer to Seto, stopping short of touching him. But the proximity and the tight enclosure made Seto's skin crawl. Not in an unpleasant way, though. His body tingled and felt a touch flushed.

How would Jounouchi's skin feel against his?

"You alright there, Kaiba?" asked Jounouchi, seemingly floating closer. He waved a hesitant hand in Seto's face.

Base urges welled up in him. He wanted to grab Jounouchi's hand and bite it, no better than a dog, as he once mocked the other man for being. Better yet, he could drag his tongue across the rough palm and lap at his knuckles. Suck his thick fingers into his mouth and learn contentment from how they could fill his mouth.

Seto was never drinking green tea mixed with whisky ever again.

He managed a small noise of confirmation before he twisted away, curling as best as he could around the seatbelt. Something like a whimper pushed at the back of his throat, but he refused to release it. He wouldn't humiliate himself any further. Just as he wouldn't crawl across the middle seat and cuddle into Jounouchi's lap.

But god, he wanted that so much it hurt.

A warm hand landed on his back, and he nearly surrendered as Jounouchi rubbed soothing circles between his shoulder blades.

"It's okay." Jounouchi spoke softly, but somehow it rang louder than the many decibels of Shanghai traffic. "We'll be back at the hotel in time. Just hang in there."

Seto spent the rest of the journey folded into himself, wedged firmly against the side of the taxi, trying and failing not to tremble under Jounouchi's caring touch. With a hushed tone, Jounouchi explained what had happened. It was pure coincidence that he ran into Seto and his "party" at that particular club. (Coincidence is giving chance too much credit. There were only so many high-end nightclubs in the city.) Jounouchi had wandered over to say hi before rejoining his own group. But out of the corner of his eyes, he'd noticed that Kaiba was acting unlike himself. In fact, the entire group seemed a bit off.

Seto was coming to his own conclusion before Jounouchi shared his.

Seto had been drugged. And since he knew better than to take random shit handed to him by strangers, it must've been slipped into his drink. Or maybe it was in the communal cocktail pitcher to begin with.

"They were trying to drag you off to someplace else. Don't ask me where. But you didn't look like you wanted to go, so I stepped in," Jounouchi trailed off. He'd yet to remove his hand, but it sat unmoving, a steadying weight on Seto's back helping to ground him to reality.

"I can't imagine they were happy," Seto muttered.

Jounouchi chuckled. "Not one bit. Acted like I was trying to kill the party. One chick threatened me with her stiletto heel."

"My knight in shining armor." Seto found himself laughing, then regretted it when his head throbbed.

"Don't worry, I didn't hit any of 'em. Mighty tempting, though. I just kinda threw you over my shoulder and high-tailed it outta there. That was how I knew you were really outta it. You barely cursed me out."

Heat associated with both shame and arousal rushed through him. It turned out those biceps he secretly admired weren't just for show.

"Finally, we're here!" exclaimed Jounouchi. His hand also regrettably retreated.

Seto watched blearily as Jounouchi overpaid the driver and leaped out the door. He didn't go far, though. He jogged around the vehicle to Seto's side and yanked open the door. As he leaned in and over Seto to undo the seatbelt buckle, the woody scent of Jounouchi's cologne flooded Seto's nostrils. And his strength was plainly evident as he braced his arms around Seto's shoulders and hip.

"Alright, up we go," urged Jounouchi.

Under any sober circumstance, Seto would've never allowed this to happen. To let Jounouchi touch him, especially as a caretaker. But Seto was the farthest thing from sober, fucked up on whatever combination of alcohol and party drugs he had been unwittingly fed. He didn't have the strength to stand on his own two feet.

So he relied on Jounouchi and his strength. Clung to the man's sweat-slicked neck.

The doorman didn't give them a second glance. Why should he? Seto was simply the latest in an endless stream of drunken guests stumbling back into the five-star hotel.

A lobby concierge approached and tried to help, though. Both Jounouchi and Seto waved him off. Jounouchi likely because he didn't want another stressful not-conversation, and Seto didn't want anyone but Jounouchi touching him right now.

"Hey, what floor?" Jounouchi asked after propping him against the wall of the elevator carriage.

Seto patted down his pockets and was relieved to find his wallet. He didn't expect the fuerdai to rob him blind like a common mugger, but you never knew. He tossed the leather wallet to Jounouchi and croaked, "Key card."

The tournament competitors were provided with single-bed guest rooms. Seto, on the other hand, occupied the Vice Presidential Suite for the week. Their elevator shot toward the top floors, bypassing the dozens of floors between the ground and the suites.

As they ascended, Seto snuck covert glances at the other hand. Despite the air conditioning running at full blast, Jounouchi was still huffing and sweating. Who could blame him? Summer in Shanghai could be blistering.

"Can you walk?" asked Jounouchi when the elevator doors finally parted.

Struck muted, Seto shook his head. His heart raced as Jounouchi wrapped a burly arm around his waist, and together, they hobbled down the hall to the suite's door.

The lights flicked on automatically as they entered, drawing an impressed whistle from Jounouchi as he took in the room.

"Yeah, guess I should've known. You wouldn't be caught dead living like us commoners. Where's the bed in this joint?"

The mention of bed caused something hot and heavy to coil in Seto's navel. Without meaning to, his arm tightened around Jounouchi's neck, which only prompted the other man to grip him tighter, mistaking the action as a plea for more support.

"Bedroom," he moaned, knocking his head against the side of Jounouchi's. He might be imagining it, but he swore Jounouchi shivered and pink flooded down to his neck.

Seconds later, they stumbled into the adjoined bedroom. The spacious room apparently didn't warrant any comments, because Jounouchi deposited Seto on the bed and disappeared from sight.

To say Seto was disappointed was an understatement.

It may be a blessing in disguise. Jounouchi had already done the "decent" thing: extracted him from a dicey situation and brought him to safety. Seto didn't need to embarrass himself in front of the other man any further.

He jumped when a hand grabbed his shoulder, kicking a leg out blindly.

"Relax, it's me."

Silly though it was, Seto did relax as soon as he registered Jounouchi's voice. His firm but careful touch.

"Here. I got you water from the minibar and a cool towel. It's unopened. I promise."

Seto stared helplessly at the two items being offered to him. Jounouchi made no moves, either. They were at a stalemate. At least until the other man sighed and pressed the moist towel to Seto's sweat-dampened forehead. His eyes fluttered closed, and he unleashed a faint moan at how good and chilly it felt.

"C'mon, you gotta drink the water, too. The whole bottle, then I promise to leave you alone."

Panic spiked through Seto's system. Being alone, something he never minded before, suddenly sounded unbearable. He didn't want Jounouchi to leave.

He reached out. Not to take the proffered bottle, as refreshing as its content may be, but to grab Jounouchi's forearm. Jounouchi froze under his clutch.

"You can't leave. I won't let you," said Seto before he could stop himself.

Jounouchi's breath hitched. As he stared at Seto's face, his eyes darkened with something unspeakable. He licked his lips. "Okay, not leaving. Not tonight. Guess someone's gotta keep an eye on you and make sure things don't take a turn for the worse. But you gotta at least let go of my arm. I'll take the couch outside."

Seto slid closer. "I want you—"

Jounouchi gasped. Seto could kiss him at that instant, but his head spun.

He wanted Jounouchi in every conceivable way. Wanted to feel his naked skin against his skin. Wanted to feel his weight pressing down on him as his cock pushed into Seto's hole. Wanted to shatter apart and then let Jounouchi piece him back together in the afterglow, warm and content.

He thought Jounouchi might grant him those things. If only he'd ask for them. But the words remained stubbornly lodged in his throat as sobriety started to creep in on the edges.

"I want you to stay with me," he whispered, holding Jounouchi's shell-shocked gaze.

Tonight and tomorrow. Maybe even for the rest of their lives. One day, Seto would give voice to the whole truth.

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