#THEY'RE BLOWING A BUBBLE!!!

[iamyounicorn]

The Objects by Lygia Fagundes Telles. You can read it. You can understand a little.

[shiningstages]

MWAH

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MWAH MWAH MWAH MWAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[omnipotent-omnicube]

god i wish the ending credits for season 3 of scissor seven were actually how the show was

[thedreadvampy]

The museum near my mum's was hosting a Raymond Briggs retrospective and it wasn't until we went today that I realised the absolutely outsize influence Briggs quietly had on my development and sensibilities as an artist. I've never really thought to flag him as one of my Favourite Illustrators but I realised walking around the room that his comics work - reading stuff like Fungus The Bogeyman and Father Christmas as a kid, and When The Wind Blows as a teenager - really formed like the platonic ideal for me of what comics should be and do.

A short list of things I think I've unconsciously learnt from his work without thinking about it:

the amount of character you can wring out of framing and posing

the idea of stylised faces in a highly rendered world

using repetitive panels to create meaning

breaking the edges of panels and frames

energetic lettering

filling up the world your characters inhabit with lots of little details you find entertaining

trying to create worlds and people that feel like Real Things That Exist by drawing on the world around you even if what you're making is a fantasy

borrowing faces and places that fit

it's allowed to be very silly

Anyway it's honestly left me quite emotional looking at his work like this bc I didn't know! I didn't know how much he'd influenced me! and there's something about looking at the artwork with all his notes to self around the margins and relettered phrases and "change this bit"s. there's a spread from fungus the bogeyman where the margins have been repeatedly filled with carefully drawn bubble letters counting down how many thousands of words and hundreds of hours of lettering he still had left to do and I'm just like i see someone is losing his actual mind lettering. relatable.

There was also. one of the last spreads in Ethel and Ernest, and it shows him and his dad coming to the hospital to see his mother's corpse after she died. and everything else on the page is done in his usual repeatedly-photocopied-and-redrawn style and worked through, but the body of his mother is almost just a pencil sketch over loose watercolour. and it's like. looking at that you can really really feel how unbearably hard it was to draw that. and next to that they had the closing spread where Briggs is showing his wife his parents' house after they died, and so right next to this drawing that evidently hurt too much to work on too long, you can see how in-depth and thoughtfully he's drawn the house he grew up in, he's done it brick by brick and every bit of detail worked in like he doesn't want to stop working on it and be done with the house. and idk it left me insanely choked up.

[orcelito]

I hate having to make decisions about peoples' lives 😭 me straight up having the power in my hands to affect who has a job with us, like. Fuck, man. I don't like it

[shymaidxn]

i finished my drafts here!!!!!!!!!!!!! okay now, *pulls out knife*, give me more content; i'm not asking; this is a threat

[la-pheacienne]

I'm reading the lord of the rings and I'm once again amazed at how... good most characters are. Like, they are genuinely good people. They are a bunch of kindhearted, gracious, caring people, coming together under adverse circumstances and trying to figure things out and find a solution and support each other through it all. Like Frodo and Sam meet Faramir and Faramir is a bit suspicious at first and kind of implies Frodo may be a spy, and then when he hears his story and he's like Frodo, I pressed you so hard at first. Forgive me! It was unwise in such an hour and place. And this blows.my.mind. He wasn't even particularly mean or threatening to him in the beginning, he's just such a kind, considerate man, recognizing the kindness and honesty of another man. And they're all like that. Even Gollum starts slowly changing (for a short while) when he encounters Frodo because that's the thing about kindness and humility and grace, they are contagious. They transform people, even a creature like Gollum cannot be immune to that. Like, you may consider all this simple and basic and I get it but, hear me out. It is quite rare to see that in modern media and it is also pretty difficult to pull off in a way that is not corny and simplistic. It is mind blowing that you actually don't have to present the entire palette of human cruelty and vice in order to tell a compelling story, contrary to popular belief. Lotr does the exact opposite, and it is just beautiful and it warms my heart. Especially taking into consideration tolkien's pretty grim growing-up experience, him being a double orphan without a home, raised between an orphanage and a priest and having no family apart from his brother and then the war and then he almost dies and then he's poor as hell and then a second war and it all makes sense somehow. He writes to his wife who is also an orphan two days before the marriage "the next few years will bring us joy and content and love and sweetness such as could not be if we hadn't first been two homeless children and had found one another after long waiting" and, yes, yes! The love and sweetness just radiate from his work, the entire lotr series is a little radiant bubble of hope and love and grace that he imagined in his head to deal with a dismal reality and then he just gave that to the world, and isn't that what imagination and art is all about after all?

[gffa]

How dare anyone not love Tim Drake, the CITY IS ON FIRE, they're in the middle of a WAR WITH THE JOKER, it's fucking go time and it's ALL HANDS ON DECK, even the recent amnesiac over there, SHIT IS SERIOUS NOW and meanwhile this unhinged gremlin is NOT standing for this shit, he's slouching while everyone else poses dramatically and literally chewing gum to blow bubbles, HOW DARE ANYONE THINK THIS GUY IS ANYTHING LESS THAN THE KING OF BEING WEIRD AND UNHINGED, he's the best.

[stargirlo]

𝓙 UST A LITTLE SQUEEZE? ─ MULTI CHAR.

"PLEASE LET ME FUCK YOUR TITS!" he whined, practically on his knees begging for you to finally give in to his little fantasies. you sighed exasperatingly. "i'll give you one rule though," you lowly spoke to him, hands on your hips. "don't cum on my hair." holy shit, you agreed!? was he dreaming?

content warnings: fem coded reader, a lot of mentions of you having big boobs, begging, boob job, blow job, teasing, facial (he can't control it so he cums in ur face >:( ), cum eating, snowballing, etc etc.

💌: a little appreciation 4 my big titty girlies <3 && thank u sm for 100 followers, never had been so happy !!! the sudden wave of motivation is soooo rare 4 me ohemgee! :oooo

𝜗𝜚 ‧₊ "pleaseee let me just squeeze them, jus' a little bit! pleasepleaseplease,"

he was constantly nagging you for just a simple squeeze of your perky tit, but you kept on refusing. its not like you were weirded out by his needy actions but it's just that you didn't expect someone to be so obsessed over your tits. you were a little insecure about them a while back because in your own words, you said that you looked "too fat" or "too disoriented" but honestly, your boyfriend loves them! he doesn't see any issues about your big tits, wether they're saggy or not.

he loves it whenever you wear his oversized shirts without a bra supporting your perky breasts, nipples poking out of the cotton fabric of his shirt immediately makes him huff like a dog. he loves it when your boobs jiggle whenever you make the simplest moves, wether its you swaying your hands around while you talk, or when you walk around the house.

his eyes will always land to your bouncy tits.

he loves giving you hugs, having a great opportunity to feel your tits pressed against his chest, he could practically feel the softness and the plumpness of your swelled tits. ughhh, it just makes his mind go blank!!!

"please let me fuck your tits!" he whined, practically on his knees begging for you to finally give in to his little fantasies. you sighed exasperatingly. "i'll give you one rule though," you lowly spoke to him, hands being placed on your hips. "don't cum on my hair." holy shit, you agreed!? was he dreaming?

𝜗𝜚 ‧ . ° "h─holyyy shiit, ohmygoddd... f─fuck ye'r tits feel s'good mamiii.."

he moans like a literal slut, your breasts hugging his cock and keeping it warm, the tip of your tounge flicking the head of his cock. pre-cum beading through he slit of his pinkish tip before your tounge eagerly swipes away his essence. you softly moaned, cupping your breasts and rubbing his shaft slowly, creating a delicious fricition. "d─didn't know it'll feel t─this good─ ohfuck!"

you giggled, beady eyes locked with his as your filthy mouth wraps around his cock, sucking the head of his cock. his body jolts, hips bucking up as more of his cock easily slips further in to your mouth. "mami─ oh shit, don't stop, don't stop, don't stoppp," he begs, a trembling hand coming up to move your head downward as his fingers desperately tug on your scalp.

your choked moan vibrates against his cock, tears bubbling on the corner of your eyes as it was already too much for you to handle. reluctantly, you withdrew your mouth away from his cock, leaving him to elicit a needy whine. "babyyy─ why'd you... why'd you stop?" he breathlessly spoke, looking down at you with a small pout. but you didn't stop, not when you moved your tits up and down his cock in a subtle rhythm. he clenches his jaw tightly, his pearly whites grinding against one another to stifle out a whimper. "what a naughty boy you are..." you cooed, and holy shit you could feel his cock throbbing at your words. "so dirty." your breath ghosted against his cock, feeling a subtle twitch.

"please─ need to feel your warm mouth againn.." he beckoned you, eyebrows pinching together as the overwhelming feeling slowly starts to frustrate him. "please mami─ oh!" his body tenses up again, your mouth wrapping around his cock again. the tits and mouth combo sent him to cloud nine, his thighs trembled as your saliva coats your cleavage. he hissed in pleasure, throwing his head back while he swallowed a lump of saliva that brewed in his mouth, his adams apple flexing in his throat.

"g'nna cum, holy shit─ 'm cummin' mami, fuckfuckfuck..!" his moans grew slightly louder, his free hand clasping on the bedsheets as if he was holding on for dear life.

you pulled your mouth away from his cock, once again. jerking him off with your tits before he couldn't take it anymore, his hot and steamy cum spurts from his flushed tip as the thick strings of his cum land all over your perky breasts and on your face . . . and hair . . .

"ay─!" you gasped, closing one of your eyes as he just couldn't stop cumming. he's so nasty, sooooo disgusting!! a stifled giggle elicits from your lips, watching as he becomes putty into the bed, the aftershocks of his mind shattering orgasm leaving his body limp.

he softly gasped once he realized the mess he had made, on himself and on you. "fuck─ heh, my bad..." he chuckles dryly, your tounge swiping on your bottom lip to give his release a little taste. so bitter.

"i told you not to get it on my hair, pendejo!" you playfully smacked his knee, looking up at him with a pout. your expression tempted him, the way you just look at him makes him want to ruin you next. "c'mere baby, gimme a kiss..." he leans forward, placing his hand on the back of your head as he pulls you in for a sloppy kiss. you yelped, his tounge quickly slipping into your mouth as he took a little taste of himself, the bittersweetness of his own release.

how fucking nasty you both are!!!

💌: satoru gojo, kazutora hanemiya, tartaglia, könig, chifuyu matsuno, souya kawata (idk how to spell his last name :( ), aventurine, bokuto koutarou, kenma kozume (hear me out!!), sanzu haruchiyo, manjiro sano, jj maybank, ++ your favs!!

[cuprohastes]

Evolution? We don't need no Evolution!

Wherever Aliens gather to sit down, do the equivalent of a 1km stare and drink things that make you feel like being gently smacked with a slice of lemon wrapped around a gold brick, eventually the topic of Humans will come up.

"They're semi aquatic." one says. "I swear. We were on a beach and we had this human - You know, to carry stuff and do Human related Things. And they just went 'oh what a lovely day' and then they ... ran into the sea."

They pause and take a long drink.

"No exo suit. Just splash splash splash, and then they fell under the water."

The others nod or quiver in agreement. "Don't tell me" the Tsin says, their scales painted with that human Nail Polish. The shade called Pining of You looked especially good. "They ran back out holding something horrible and toothy, and immediately adopted it."

The first alien snorts. "No. Sort of. We thought they'd fallen into a sink hole. We had no idea! They were swimming! Like a Tsuga! Just looking at everything underwater and then popping up and going back down... you know... they jsut. They just stop breathing? Because breathing might be inconvenient so they... stop." they say.

Everyone pauses to think about this.

"I mean... how does that even work?" one slender, feathery being asks. "But they're not aquatic. You know how I know? Because I've seen them fly."

Another pause.

"Bullshit." someone says. "They don't have wings."

"No no... but they can make them. AND and and... I don't mean like ships. No! they make them out of fabric and sticks."

The Tsin looks into her drink and then sideways at the make who's been staring at her scales for the last ten minutes. He puffs up a little. "Mm. What as an art project?" she says.

The feathery being declines this supposition and responds, "No. They built them then they go up somewhere nice and high and they pick them up and take a big run - You ever see one running? Terrifying. And they... jsut..." the feathery being makes a sweeping gesture.

"Up into the sky. For hours. Then they come down and slide to a stop and put everything away and... How do you do that? How do you fly and then decide, oh I'll just go on with being a normal terrestrial animal, ho hum, nothing special."

The Tsin coyly blows a bubble at the preening male and shrugs.

"Mmmmy theory is they're bad at evolution." she says. "So they gave up and now they just turn into whatever they need to be for as long as they need it."

There's a certain amount of consideration at this and the Tsin puts her drink down and wiggles her fingers to everyone and leaves to investigate that tasty little male with the gorgeous blue markings.

The tall and frondy being quivers and splays it's fronds. "That's a horrible thought. Imagine if they decided to become plants?!"

"Ah well" says a very drunk Waallondernook, "Funny you should mention that..."

[beansprean]

Modern Dating with your Vampire Master...they're so silly actually.

Support me on Patreon or send a tip on Kofi!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Shot of the exterior of the vampire house at night, lit from within. 1b. Wide shot in profile of Guillermo in the foyer, descending from the large front window on a tall teal ladder with a 'verner' logo on the side. He is wearing green chinos, boots, and a white collared shirt with suspenders; he has a blue bucket with a 'blowes' logo on the side full of cleaning products in one hand. From offscreen, Nandor calls, "Guillermo?" Guillermo responds absently with a "Hm?" concentrating on stepping down safely. 1c. Close up on Guillermo as he reaches the floor, looking over toward Nandor with mild curiosity. From offscreen, Nandor declares, "I would like to take you out on a date." 1d. Wide shot, knees up, of both men standing in the foyer, the doorway to the fancy room visible behind them, fireplace lit and glowing in the space between them. Guillermo, incredibly caught off card, shrieks out a choked keysmash of words and reflexively throws the bucket in his hands, sending it crashing into the ladder behind him and toppling it all to the ground. His eyes are comically wide, fixed on Nandor, and his face is flushed red. Nandor stands before him with his hands folded formally behind his back, shoulders back, head high, nervously looking away with flushed cheeks. 1e. Close up of Nandor returning his gaze towards Guillermo with a wobbly frown, chin tucked to his chest defensively as his nerves catch up to him. There are sounds of the ladder and bucket crashing to the floor offscreen. Guillermo stutters out, "You... you what?!" 1f. Repeat. Nandor puffs himself up angrily, baring his fangs as he snaps, flustered, "I am not repeating myself!"

2a. Chest up of them both in profile on a streaky brown background. Guillermo, flushed red and staring hard at Nandor, pushes his glasses up his nose and asks hesitantly, "You...want to go on a date...with me?" Nandor grimaces uncomfortably, shoulders tense as he leans his torso back away from Guillermo, cheeks purple and eyes looking elsewhere. He clarifies, "I said I wanted to take you on a date, that's not the same thing." Guillermo pushes, "But you do want that." Nandor grits out a painful "Yyyeeessss..." 2b. Extreme closeup of Nandor in the foreground, turning his head fully away from Guillermo to glare over his own shoulder, flustered and sweating nervously. In the background, Guillermo tilts his head with a frown, unimpressed, and counters, "Then why do you look like I have a stake to your heart when you say it?" 2c. Waist up of Nandor on an orange and yellow polka dot background as he turns back to face Guillermo, nervous and embarrassed. He twists his fingers together as he says, "Metaphorically...you do. You have for some time, in fact." 2d. Small reaction shot from Guillermo, staring with wide shining eyes and blushing cheeks on a background of pink bubbles. A large pink heart floats next to him, stabbed through with a stake and spurting drops of blood.

3a. Chest up of them both in profile on a streaky brown background. Guillermo is now the one to drop his gaze with a pleased smile, half turning away as he rubs nervously at his neck. He mumbles, "That's either really sweet or really concerning..." Nandor squeezes his eyes shut in frustration and flaps his hands around to shoo away the tangent in their conversation. He snaps, "Enough of this!" 3b. Close up of Nandor from Guillermo's POV on an orange and yellow starburst background. Nandor draws himself up tall, shoulders straight, chin up, and whips his head toward Guillermo, hair flying around his shoulders. He shouts, "Do you want to go on a date with me or not??" His demanding posture is betrayed only by the blush in his cheeks and the pleading shine in his eyes. 3c. Close up of Guillermo on an orange and yellow starburst background as he similarly draws up his shoulders, cheeks flushed, wide eyes meeting Nandor's. He immediately blurts out, "I do!!"

4a. Waist up of them both in profile, the left side of the foyer with the fancy room beyond visible in the background, fireplace lit and glowing in the space between them. Guillermo smiles, pleased and flustered, and looks down to play aimlessly with his fingers. He repeats at a more measured volume, "I...I do." Nandor grins and pumps both fists up to shake victoriously between them, replying, "Great!" 4b. Extreme closeup of Nandor's belt in the foreground as he whips around to walk away down the hall, long coat flapping like a cape. He declares, "You will meet me there at sundown tomorrow in your least-shitty sweater. Guillermo, waist-up in the background, stares after him with a besotted expression, hands clasped together over his chest and hearts floating around his dazed head. He smiles dreamily and replies, "Okay..." 4d. Small closeup on Guillermo on a pink background as he freezes, expression disappearing behind his glasses. His thoughts are expressed in large white letters above his head: "Wait." 4e. High shot of the foyer from the upper right corner, showing the full staircase, doorways to the hall and fancy room, and the ladder toppled over by the front door. Guillermo is jogging after Nandor toward the main hallway, calling after him, "Wait, meet you where? Mast-Nandor!" /end ID

[mitsies]

❊ be sweet - yuuta okkotsu . . there's no love quite like this one.

yuuta okkotsu returns home to the smell of ginger, root vegetables, and spice.

it's your night to cook dinner, and it seems like that's exactly what you've been doing. a pot of unidentifiable, fragrant broth is simmering over the stove. the kitchen is a little bit of a mess; it usually is on your turns to prepare dinner. a slight smile graces yuuta's face as he recalls you explaining it away as part of your 'method.'

you are, however, nowhere to be seen. the living room and kitchen of your shared apartment are recently deserted. you must've been here recently, though, and you should still be close, considering the heat on the stove and a newly lit candle settled on the kitchen counter by a vase of flowers. dropping his bag down in the corner of your shared apartment, yuuta is about to make his way to your bedroom to come look for you when he hears footsteps.

he knows they're yours. there's nothing of yours that he couldn't recognise. he'd know your footsteps anywhere. he'd know the way you exhaled, and he'd know every individual freckle or mole or scab or scar on your body. you're committed to his memory.

you don't notice him at first. instead of coming to greet him like you usually would, he watches as you make your way over to the kitchen from where he stands by the entrance to your shared apartment. you mill about the kitchen, sweeping away some preliminary food scraps— garlic peels, the tops of carrots, onion skins— into your palm, before depositing them into the waste bin. he likes to watch you cook. there's music coming from your phone; it's a song he showed you the other day. you hum along like you've loved it your whole life.

he could probably stay and watch you forever. to yuuta, there is magic in the way you move. pure, utter adoration; that's all he feels for you. but if there's one thing he loves more than simply being around you, it's talking to you, and he can't quite talk to you if you don't know he's there. he calls your name, delighting a little in the way your eyes widen and you swivel to face the direction of his voice almost right away.

"yuuta," you beam. your smile is one that might rival the sun and win. you walk over to him, onion skins still stuck to the palm of your hand, not like you'd notice. taking your boyfriend in an embrace, his hands cradle the back of your head like you're made of precious gemstone. his face is buried in your hair. you smell like root vegetables and home.

"hi," he mumbles into your scalp. you pull away, arms still loosely wrapped around him, and grin. "hi, yuuta. i was just about to call you. how long've you been here?"

"not long."

"good," you reply, finally releasing him and moving back to the kitchen, "dinner's almost ready. i'm trying a new recipe— yuuji told me about it. don't remember what it's called, though."

yuuta follows you, leaning on the counter with his forearms, gaze fixed on you. "it smells good."

"does it? i think i've gone nose blind. all i can smell is onion."

your boyfriend laughs, and you smile. he loves your smile.

a brief silence lapses. it's not uncomfortable, it never is. the sounds of a wooden spoon clanging around a pot and bubbling broth echo through the small kitchen. music still hums from your phone, which now lies discarded and forgotten about next to the candle. he notices the flame flicker a little too close to the flowers next to it. yuuta gingerly shifts the two away and blows the candle out— you'd likely forget to do it later.

the stove clicks as you turn the heat off. "i guess the last thing left to do is let it cool. that might be a while— can you wait?"

yuuta nods. "i need to change anyways."

you turn back to him, nimble fingers tugging at the sleeves of his white jacket. "how was your day?"

it's moments like this where he can forget the world. he can forget the horrors of his career, the tragedy of the world he was unable to save, if only just for a moment. he can chase happiness by its tail. he can find home. there are few things that bring him solace anymore; his friends, the few he can save, and you. he'd always have you. maybe the one person who could fully understand him. the one person he could be honest with.

and he knows he can trust in you. he knows you'll catch him if he falls. so he exhales, and lets himself breathe. "could've gone better."

you frown lightly. taking his face in both hands, you study his expression like you're searching for something. wordlessly, with all the gentleness of a saint, you lower his head into the crook of your neck. he's sure his breath tickles the skin exposed to it, but you're unflinching, unmoving. he feels safer than he ever has, with your hands roaming the planes of his broad back in comforting circles.

"i'm sorry," is all you say. he'll be okay, though. it'd be okay so long as he had you. and he pulls away, and smiles a little, and tells you just that.

he likes the way you look bashful all of a sudden, as if he wasn't yours forever. how long have the two of you known each other now? since he transferred into gojo satoru's class, years ago now. you'd been hesitant like the rest of them at first. but he'd fallen for you— your kindness, your occasional dramatics, your tendency to leave candles unattended near very flammable objects. and somehow, some way, it'd worked out. he used to be so shy, then. timid. he could be sometimes still, but yuuta likes to think that he's grown alongside you. the thought makes him smile. he chases that joy he finds in you. "tell me about your day. i hope you used your first break in forever well."

you give him a teasing, dirty look. "please. of course i did. i'd never choose to go to work."

he laughs again, because it's just so easy to do when he's around you. he loves you more than life, he thinks, as you explain how you and maki got stuck at a train station in kawasaki. while you talk, he picks a piece of vegetable out of your hair. no wonder you were smelling onion everywhere.

yuuta would always be there to look out for you. he'd be there to put out the candles you'd forget about, and clean up your messes, and love you unconditionally, always. and he knows you love him like that, too. you love him in the way you hold his head when he's not feeling his best, and you love him in the way you'd always greet him with a bright smile and a big hug, and you love him in ways he never thought of himself as deserving of.

and it's nights like these, yuuta thinks, that prove that there will be no kind of love to come close to this one.

flowers chosen: jasmine & daisy . . sweet love, amiability & innocence

❊ send a request! ❊ 5k masterlist ❊ event info ❊

[shiningstages]

Not to vent out loud, but it’s not helpful to my current mindset when my internship both praises my writing while also adding a million edits and making it feel like the compliments are lies as a result. All the people are nice, but I just feel lowkey put down more and feel more frustrated with my life because of it, and I can’t wait to be over with it in late August.

[baddywronglegs]

Okay, I have to ask: how does it feel to have a post of yours unexpectedly blow up like it has over the past few days?

I'm new here so this has been pretty much most of my Tumblr experience, which adds to the surreality of it a bit as I have no idea what the normal Tumblr existence is

I went from "no notifications" to "all notifications, all the time" without ever finding out if there's a sweet spot where they're functional

(By the way, notifications on mobile seem to refresh at regular 30 second intervals, so that's another thing I've learned)

I've met people IRL who, when I've explained why my phone keeps flashing, have said "Oh that was you? I'm not on Tumblr but I heard about it on ___" which is maybe the oddest part as I try to tell myself it's only really spread in the bubble/biome of Tumblr I'm in (hello neurodivergent queers) and have no clue how it's doing outside that

But honestly, I'm just waiting for people to find that this post was just Walruses Georg, is an outlier adn should not be counted as a benchmark of popularity I'll live up to

tl:dr, it's been a weird couple of weeks.

[anantaru]

DAY 3 — BIMBOFICATION

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

kink. bimbofication — the process of transforming into an airheaded slut, perfectly happy to be used and degraded

𖧡 — including — ayato, childe

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, bimbofication, degrading, rough & messy, slight possessive reader but only a little + they're possessive of you too lmao, name calling (fucktoy, bitch in heat, cocksleeve), petnames (angel, baby), both parties are consenting

𖧡 — AYATO

"angel.. my precious angel."

ayato slips a finger inside you, the dark outline of his silhouette mountainous on top of you, holding you captive, and he doesn't do anything besides gnashing on your jawline, until listlessly working his way down to your neck, taking your breath away when he glides the digit in and out effortlessly, then adding the second, gently working himself on your hole, imprinting his touch and trails on your walls, watching eagerly how you're engulfing him in with your cunt.

without any resistance making itself visible from your side, you appear to be enjoying this, a little too much— at the same time, you're such an adorable, precious toy to him, always clinging yourself around his arm whenever he was in near sight of you, your smirking lips puckered up into a dirty smile with a glossy film of sparkly lipgloss sleeving the flesh, day-dreaming about having the yashiro commissioner's heavy, piercing cock jamming your insides.

in any case, with how quick things were proceeding now, you love how the heel of his palm repeatedly humps your clit, the blows of it stinging at the puffy flesh before you arch your back into his hand, giggling within a clouded sigh, you're so excited to have his attention, grinning from ear to ear.

the drive ayato had on you, controlling, delightful trembles inching over the length of your spine when he calls you his precious, perfect fucktoy— the only one, you made sure of that.

when he tells you how utterly proud he was of you taking him so very well, especially when he can witness your eyes rolling back at the second of your cunt becoming so warm and constricting, it brings you to tears when listening to such loving words, being praised in such, "unique" way, where one might say it's not praise in any way, but for you, it's nothing but the most sugary, most tasteful expressing of approval to you.

it's easy once you gave yourself over to him, meaning his status and his power and made yourself his property, to that of someone being responsible to satiate the mans needs, conquer the aching pain in his groin whenever he was too busy or clocked up to do so himself. and the pleasure he made you experience, fuck, it reached the pit of a forming bubble, when he reaches into your walls with his slender fingers, your cunt clamping at the contract with the whistling in your head placing black dots on your vision.

yes, certainly— you realize then, you wanted to be treated like that.

forgetting about what others may whisper and gossip behind your back, why would you care, they might be just jealous for all you know— and for whatever reason ayato keeps you close to him, if there was a somewhat, deeper, connection or emotion he began to develop for you— baring in mind that he was the exact opposite of an outgoing player that pursued any women, only having you to touch and trace, fuck and kiss, it could possibly happen that somewhere in between his puzzling, swishing lines of thinking, kamisato ayato can work up the courage to feel something serious in regards to you, something contrasting to viewing you as this convenient toy, his darling cocksleeve, always there for his immediate use.

𖧡 — CHILDE

childe shushes your helpless mewls softly when he laps his tongue around the warm insides of your mouth, his cock taking advantage of your soft, weeping pussy, and how you're proudly presenting it all to him— just for him, you're his, in all respects, and he has trained you well, looking at how your toes curl when you greet him with a hazy, beclouded grin as you vibrate at his shaft moving along your soaked walls before pressing his tip against your g-spot.

"ohh- my, baby." childe groans, lecherous eyes gazing at your erotic body, "you're so good to me, when you let me fuck you like a bitch in heat." and he dominantly holds you up by your trembling knees, parting your pussy to accommodate the thudding stir of his length splitting you without a single care in this world, and every time he pulls himself balls deep into your hole, you gush and slick him up, making a mess of his girth and upper thighs, whimpering all wetly and perceiving how your cheeks are not only stained by your tears, but also flustered by his unique, scandalous choice of words.

but you wanted it that way, truly, being a harbingers personal belong, his little plaything you may say, as he liked to address you as well, it was intoxicating to be as slutty as possible to get his attention.

you can't help yourself but giggle out bubbly whenever he buys you something special too, an expensive gift— handled with delicate, tactful care, opening the package to find a silken lingerie-set that childe had personally picked out for you, barely awaiting the day where he can rip it off your perfect body, assuring you he'll purchase a new one in no time.

how come, you aren't even more riled up by now? your pretty pussy was so reactive to his length, easily affected by the largeness of his girth parting you for good, you're wet all day from the constant day dreams, drooling about childe's cock all day long, or about his hands grabbing and massaging your soft skin, how you knew how much he liked whenever you presented your exposed tits to him, vigorously massaging the nipples before pressing them against his chest.

"you feel good, hm?" ajax whispers into your ear, on the teetering edge of filling your womb with his seed, rolling his strong hips in and out of you before curving one palm around your cheek to force you to meet his gaze— yet your eyes were barely open, but that smile, it made him both shiver and admire your beauty, an expression so radiant on your lips that it startled even a harbinger.

"fuck, you're a mess." he licks his lips, and you foggily nod your head when he voices it out loud, helplessly hiccuping his name whilst grabbing on his chest to make him cling onto you and never let you go, well, not until he made you cum— your pussy being pillowed over by his cock bulging into you, indulging in the sensation of your soft, doused cunt slapping back against his groin, all wanting and desperate.

in spite of appearance, childe was aware that you were precisely into this manner of being treating, but in a sense, so was he, deep down believing that he’d never feel any satisfaction that could even scratch on the one you placed on him.

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[rogueddie]

Steve nearly winces when he steps into the room, following behind Dustin and Mike. He's already wishing he'd tried to shut Lucas up as soon as he'd tried to say that "no, really, I don't mind!"

Because of course he's this unlucky. Of course his date would skip out almost last minute, of course he'd end up with no excuse to avoid helping Dustin with his stupid D&D game and of course the person who probably hates Steve most is crouched on the biggest chair like it's a throne.

Eddie Munson eyes lock on him immediately. He stares for a while, making Dustin and Mike shift awkwardly beside him.

"Absolutely not. No way." He's grinning though. His eyes narrow slightly at Steve, like he's daring him to do something.

"You asked for a sub, we delivered."

Steve simply raises an eyebrow, pointedly shifting the sheets Dustin had helped him make up. It draws Eddies attention off his face, finally. When he looks back up, he's smiling a little more genuinely.

The guys standing at his sides are still glaring, looking almost cruelly excited when Eddie stands up, meandering his way over to them.

He gently plucks the sheet out Steves hand, eyebrows slowly raising as he reads.

Everyone is waiting, eyeing Eddie impatiently. Dustin and Mike are tense, as though waiting for Eddie to blow up. The others seem to expect the same, though Steve imagines they're more excited for it.

"Why did you come?" Eddie eventually asks, still holding onto the character sheet. "What could possibly be so important about this that King Steve would miss the championship game?"

"Dustin said this one was important," Steve shrugs. Fights to keep his calm demeaner. "Something about it being the last one or something. He's been going on about this shit forever. Seemed cruel to leave him high and dry at the last leg."

"Well…" Eddie eyes the character sheet before handing it back. Looks Steve up and down, before finally grinning. His eyes crinkle at the edges. "Welcome to Hellfire, Lady Elora."

He sticks his hand out. Steve shakes it, trying not to grin back.

Even with how often Dustin has talked to him about the game, Steve is clueless. Dustin and Mike both save him from embarressment every time though, quick to argue different options in such a pointed way that he knows the others aren't fooled by.

But Steve doesn't mind, often finds himself rolling his eyes at their antics only to find Eddie eyeing him almost fondly.

He finds that he enjoys it though. He'd make the character Elora as a joke, mostly just throwing whatever seemed to fit at random. An Elf who's a ranger, chaotic neutral, swinging around a bat with nails.

He wonders if it sounds as stupid to everyone else as it does to him.

He's often lost on the story too. But Eddie is brilliant at telling it. Even when he doesn't understand what he means, he flinches when the others yell at a reveal. Anxiety bubbling up when things get tense, slowly getting more and more invested in the game. Even he can tell that they're nearing the end, the final fight.

"You're scared, you're tired, you are injured," Eddie says. "Do you flee Vecna and his cultists? Or do you stand your ground and fight?"

Steve already knows the answer before Dustin speaks up; "I say we fight. To the death!"

"To the death," Mike echoes, nodding.

"To the death." Steve sniffs, doesn't bother fighting the grin.

Eddie grins back at him, the others chanting the sentiment. Steve feels warm with his attention locked on him.

Steve has the first roll. He still doesn't understand the numbers, but the others cheer so he assumes it must be good. But then it goes downhill, so many bad rolls.

Everyone is too hyped up for Steve to keep up so he focuses on Eddie. He's jeering, jumping up out of his seat, encouraging the chaos and seeming to control the energy of the room. When he laughs, he sounds more like a movie villain.

And then, one of them calls time out.

They huddle into a circle, just like they did in basketball. Steve is surprised by how easily two of the older boys pull him in.

"Guys, I hate to say this but we have got to flee."

"I concur."

"Didn't we just agree 'to the death'?" Steve frowns. He's not ready to give up yet. He can feel how close they are.

"That wasn't literal!"

A hand tightens on his shoulder. "Vecna just decimated us. We can't kill him with two players."

"You too?" Dustin sounds just as annoyed as Steve feels. "Vecna only has 15 more hit points left, don't be pussies!"

"Pussies? Really? Cause we're not delusional?"

"No, no, Dustins right," Steve butts in. Barely holds back a warning to Dustin about his language; it's not the time for babysitting. "We're too close now, we can't give up!"

"HEY!" Eddie calls, easily drawing all their attention back to him. "If I may interject, gentleman… whilst I respect the passion, you'd be wise to take Garreth the Greats concern to heart. There is no shame in running. Don't try to be heroes. Not today."

Something about his smirk and stupid head tilt just makes Steve more determined. If he has to continue fighting this stupid game alone, god dammit, he will.

Steve only half pays attention to Mike talking strategy. He's already made up his mind.

"What do you say, Elora?" Dustin turns to him, looking uncertain.

"We can kill him." Steve sounds more sure than he probably has any right to be. But he is. He can feel it in his bones. They can win.

"Fuck yeah we can," he grins at Steve. The others look more uncertain. Dustin turns back to Eddie, shoulders back, chin up and looking almost proud. "Let's kill this son of a bitch!"

Dustin gets first roll and it's bad.

It's all down to Steve.

He can feel how tense everyone is. Dustin and Gareth start yelling when he takes to long. But he can't roll yet, follows his gut; he has to get this right, has to roll at the right time.

It's just like swinging a bat in baseball, he tells himself. Just gotta time it right…

He rolls.

The dice seems to move in slow motion. Steve can almost hear each time it bounces off the board. The tension is so thick that it almost chokes him, for a moment he's sure that he can't breath.

20.

There's a moment where no one reacts. Then Dustin yells, grabbing Steves arm and shaking him in his excitement. Mike, a more similar height, throws his arms around his shoulders. It's a little painful to have him shouting directly in his ear but, he too, is too excited to care.

The others have started yelling too, Eddie dramatically overacting his shock too. Steve can't help but laugh.

It takes a while for everyone to calm down. An even longer moment to stop talking enough so they can start packing their things up. Steve only brought his jacket and character sheet, so he stays stood at the end of the table to wait for the kids.

Eddie keeps glancing up at him as he packs most of the pieces away.

"Harrington," Grant grins at him. "Never thought I'd be saying this but... thanks for coming."

"Oh, uh, yeah, no problem," Steve tries to smile.

"Dude, you missed the championship game to save our asses in DnD," Gareth grins, throwing his arm over his shoulder. "Who woulda thought, though. Steve Harrington, huh?"

The other two laugh. Steve finally feels a little lighter, on safer ground.

"How the mighty have fallen, huh?" Steve tries. And they laugh, Jeff slapping him on the back.

At the doorway, he lingers for a moment, whilst everyone else starts heading down the hall.

"Thanks for letting me play," Steve says, turning to Eddie. "I know I'm not... uh..."

"Don't strain yourself," Eddie waves him off. "It's fine. The kids have raved about you enough for me to figure out that you're a good dude."

"Oh. Thanks."

"You should join their next campaign."

"I don't know. You're graduating, right?"

"Aww, you like me that much, big boy?" He puts a hand to his chest, batting his eyelashes.

But Steve remembers the rumors that went around, remembers exactly how true they were proven to be. And, well...

"What would you say if I am?" He fires back.

Eddie, true to his reputation, is never one to back down from a fight; "then I'd tell you to ask me out like you mean it."

"Alright. If you're free tomorrow, 8pm, would you wanna go on a date? With me?"

"You picking me up in your fancy car?"

"If you want."

"Yeah, I'm free."

"So... that's a yes?"

"Yes, that's a yes."

Steve can't help but fistpump, but it makes Eddie giggle, so he counts it as a win.