#be assured that I can and will draw it >:)

[bunicate]

he’s worried that he won’t fit. a monolith of a man, inches stacked upon inches, with a body molded to be a weapon of war.

he’s too rigid, too sharp, too big, and scary to be told to sit still like a mindless toy, but he does so anyway.

könig listens to whatever you tell him to because he likes to hear that little excited mewl you sing when his thumb nudges that pudgy spot.

he’s overdressed, to say the least. his tactical gear is haphazardly strewn on his body. he was going to completely disrobe, but you insisted he keep it on whilst you climbed over him completely naked.

nothing but a soft little thing, bottom round and fat, bouncing and riding his thumb of all things. his hand rests over his crotch, large finger pointing outward only to be swallowed by your tight wet slit.

sure, it’s an unusual sight but also a pretty one. It's obscured a bit from the graceful sway of your pretty tits, but greedily he watches the every-so-often turn of your head to see the flesh of your own ass jiggle with every stroke of your hips.

his muscled body is barely tucked between your soft thighs as you draw your much-needed pleasure from his thumb— not his cock. even his tongue would suffice, to fuck apart your taut center with his mouth.

he’s definitely big enough to do it, but no, your fascination lies with his hands.

“so big kö. . . “

he wants to laugh, whether it’s out of exasperation or pure disbelief that his one finger could drag out such a reaction.

maybe he’s underestimated the size difference, maybe the little bunny hopping in his lap is much smaller than he thought. maybe he’s bigger than he thought.

“s’not even my cock, liebling. . .”

puffy lips enclose around the appendage, only seeming to fatten up from your aggressive rhythm. your fingers dig into his shoulders to steady yourself as your hole gushes out little creamy spurts of your wetness.

“if my thumb is so big how can i expect you to take my cock, hm ?”

it’s light-hearted, but you can sense the not-so-hidden layer of his anxiety. you’ve seen him in all of his naked glory, how his cock is as big as the rest of him. how swollen it gets when you’ve teased him too much, and it swells against his abdomen with erratic thumps, but you’ve mastered re-assuring the sweet giant.

“im gonna do it . don’t worry . .”

you slightly speed up your little bounces, enjoying the way your clit grazes against his clad body.

könig’s rough hand rests on your ass, parting the fat cheek to watch the hungry convulse of your pussy.

“you’re so good to me, so I know you’re gonna take care of me, kö.”

that adorable sentiment makes him harder. his balls tighten in his pants, aroused simply by the thought of tending to his saccharine sweet girl.

keuche in meinem verdammten mund. sag mir, wie gut ich auf dich aufpasse. ‘pant in my fucking mouth. tell me how good I am at taking care of you’.

his cock aches, incredibly turned on by the thought of his precious girl having faith that he’d handle you with such trust.

he’d try.

he’ll kiss your messy holes, and rub your tender and sodden flesh with rough and scar-lined fingers. hands ghosted with the souls of stolen life, plunging into your wet cunt until it can stretch to finally take his cock.

“keep hopping f’me, hase.”

he spanks the widest part of your ass eliciting more of your drooly whines.

“daddy will get you nice and ready for his fat cock, ja?”

you’re losing the strength to keep yourself up, and the impact on the roundness of your butt propels you a bit forward. you let it happen.

you lean into him, kissing him messily on the mouth over his tattered mask breathing hot air, “ mhm. can’t wait anymore, baby. . .”

“ schiesse. excited for me to pound that little pussy ?” he chuckles. it’s a little pathetic, your flappy little clit wipes against the skin of his hand and that’s it to make you twitch violently.

he mutters a string of things in german.

you can’t make out what he’s saying exactly, but you know it’s filthy and gross. he’s sucking marks on your neck, groaning and rambling in your ear as you leak all over his lower half. his other hand cups you to help guide your bottom.

“ fuck. . . ah ah ah. koo . . m’gonna cum . .”

he’s far too worked up, thrilled even that any part of him will always be enough to satisfy you from his massive size.

he wiggles his finger deeper , poking and sliding between your walls until you seize around him.

god, it’s precious. you're pulling on him, whining and tossing in his embrace, begging him to hold you.

“ so perfect, schatz.”

so soft, so little when he untangles your limbs. so pretty when he lays you on the bed and tucks his pruned finger in your tiny mouth.

your cheeks suction and your lips pucker around his thumb, slowly dragging your head up and down just like he taught you.

“thaaat’s it maus. . . y’like big things in your mouth, hm ?”

he rubs his erection through the cotton twill. those doe eyes blink up at him in a daze as you lick your ruin from the hands all too familiar with terror.

“gutes kleines mädchen.” good little girl.

[ashersanity]

— “SWEET LIKE NECTAR.”

— summary. because to whitney, there’s nothing prettier, downright satisfying to gaze upon the rosy cheeks you adopt in response to the invasive questioning, that pride of yours so amusing to patiently chip away at, piece by piece. in fact, if you could, you’d evade it altogether though that would mean defeat, wouldn’t it? and there’s nothing you detest more in this shitty world than to fucking lose.

— content warning! incest, step-cest, dub-con, coaxing, anal fucking, cream-pie, nipple sucking, lots of uh.. dirty talking, I got carried away there, big brother whitney gets a taste of his own medicine, male reader turned bastard himself, the shittiest writing known to mankind. this is a continuation to the first part ‘it’s all in the family’ which you can find here.

— word count? I freestyled that shit once again in the notes app, it is my sanctuary and you cannot take it away from me, alright?

— asher’s note. “I find that revenge is only proper and that sometimes, you need to take matters into your own hands and fuck your stupid, arrogant, big brother. balls deep.”

Moreover, you should’ve probably have expected this one measly question to slip past your older brother’s lips, leering gaze openly taking your conflicted expression in as if taunting you to properly answer. You wouldn’t lie to me, would you? ‘Course not, like you could anyway. He’d see right past it like he usually does, testing the waters — he’d call it, laying out the fresh bait for your conscious little self to latch onto immediately.

Because to Whitney, there’s nothing prettier, downright satisfying to gaze upon the rosy cheeks you adopt in response to the invasive questioning, that pride of yours so amusing to patiently chip away at, piece by piece. In fact, if you could, you’d evade it altogether though that would mean defeat, wouldn’t it?

And there’s nothing you detest more in this shitty world than to fucking lose.

Especially to this one bastard. Too damn nosy to discreetly mind his own business, y’know? Always the one to hover too close for comfort, bated breath feathering delicately against the soft skin of your flushed ear, to keep you tightly on edge. Long past that, it’s starting to get on your nerves how self-assured he is in his flawed reasoning, simply since he had you sloppily suck him off once on the worn couch and now, it’s what? Only natural to drag you around like some sort of thoughtless puppy? Shamelessly refer to you as his trained, little bitch who’ll get on his knees for the right price?

Gotta be fucking kidding then.

It was the alcohol. Nothing, but the intoxicating substance drumming along your veins that had you act in such a debauched manner, had your painfully hard cock straining against the front of your pants. Yeah. Right? That’s all there was to it. Nothing more.

At least, that’s what you keep insistently reminding yourself of despite the growing, churning heat in your stomach, the not-so-subtle twitching of your hardening cock stirring beneath your ripped jeans or the individual droplets of sweat gently trickling down the navel of your slouched back. Alright, keep fucking lying to yourself then. Surely that’ll help you with your current predicament that you’ve stuck yourself into, muddied foot deep within the shallow trenches and a solid grasp firmly placed around your ankle, threatening to snap your dignity in half.

“Well?” Visibly irritated by your lack of answer, it’s Whitney’s increasingly impatient, snappy voice that unfortunately draws you back from your spiralling calculations — whether to respond with the humiliating truth or not. Can’t let it go, can he? Hence why he so nonchalantly has you sat on his used bed, the rusted springs hidden beneath the dusty mattress alerting your every subtle movement with a distinct creak reverberating through the thin walls.

“Well, what?” Idiot, you know very damn well what he’s getting at, it’s not like you suffer from some sort of amnesiac disease to utilise cluelessness and have him fooled with such blatant tactics.

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” Should be wiping that snide, awful smirk that instantly appears on his face as he carelessly articulates the question once more. Shameless in his pursuit, hungrily eyeing you up and down like an untouched piece of meat to greedily feast upon, sink his pearly, white fangs into.

Oh, thank the heavens that you weren’t consuming any sort of liquid right this moment because it would’ve been shot straight out of your throat, maybe your nose even considering the absurd sentence from your very own brother — step-brother, to be exact. Still in denial that you two could potentially call each other family, far too homely of a term than the puzzling relationship you both share. Speaking of, you haven’t replied to his question yet and by the looks of it, he isn’t looking too pleased with you if you were to stretch this on any further than it should be.

“N-No, I’ve actually fucked my fair share of girls.” Oh yeah, he’s definitely believing you with that stuttering, the uncertainty all too evident in your tone that only a complete, utter moron would’ve fallen for it. Fucking liar. It wasn’t as though you were entirely lying though, having indeed fucked a girl before, but does it really count if that same person were to be your younger sister, Kylar? At most, you’ve had your decent amount of experiences with others, dated a few girls here and there which is to be acceptable for the average boy of your age. However, beyond the intimate acts of holding hands and bashful kissing, you remained oblivious to the process of well, sex — save for the over the top, raunchy porn you’d occasionally watch and that sole encounter with Kylar that taught you far more than any cheap film ever could.

So, it’s still reasonable, is it not? Though this is Whitney you’re directly dealing with and you know better than to assume he’d take plain ‘no’ for an answer, often brash in his selfish desires. No, more like every time whenever he does act, it leads up to the very same, repetitive situation you’ve familiarized yourself to. You, beneath him. You, helpless in the face of his cruel actions.

Not this time though — fuck, that nasty, little scheme of yours slowly, but ever so surely lurking within the depths of your working mind, grateful for the blonde’s clear ignorance of the shit you were ready to commit to regain that minuscule shred of dignity back. None the wiser, preferring it’d remain that way.

And he can only sharply scoff back to your half-assed attempt at muttering obvious falsehoods. Too cunning of a bastard and god, does it mess with you. “Bullshit. You think I’d believe that? Fuckin’ cmon, admit it. You’ve never really fucked a girl before, huh?” That sickening, creeping nausea steadily filling the depths of your guts from the way he so arrogantly taunts you through his ‘light-hearted’ insults, inadvertently painting you as some sort of virgin loser that never so much as had the slightest chance of growing affectionate with another woman. Fucked your goddamn sister so that’s a one-up on you, huh? Hell, you know better than to let such an obscene admission escape you — since she’s your sister now too, that innocence you so greedily stripped away that one faithful evening within the four corners of her room.

Rather not indulge in such sinful thoughts at the moment, not when your prolonged silence is only confirming his self-righteous suspicions to which he so stubbornly convinced himself of. Knowing better than to reason with your older brother, it’s merely when you do finally relent with a reluctant nod of your head — still maintaining a thin layer of deceit, mind you — that his smug grin widens considerably in return. “So you’re an unused slut, basically.” Choice of words never was the delinquent’s forte, but his crude, frank vocabulary certainly is as he so eloquently puts it. “Hah — I fuckin’ knew it. Wouldn’t be cumming so quickly if you weren’t.” He huffs back in amusement at the sight of your apparent fluster, always so damn squirmy whenever he playfully pokes fun at one of your concealed insecurities. Oh, you really don’t know the dizzying effect you have on him, do you?

The numerous nights spent lazily fisting the base of his cock underneath the woollen covers placed over his bare, sweating body to at the very least obscure his depraved actions — not that he cared much whether he was scandalously caught or not. Much so, he’d prefer if it were you to ‘coincidentally’ walk in on him mid-jerk off session, lend a helping hand to big brother and let him use you however he saw fit. Fuck, yeah. That’d aid him in his ever growing lust for you, borderline animalistic in how he addictively sought you out as expected, like a sweet, sweet drug longing to be taken. A sweet nectar freshly ripe for the taking, plucked free from the gracious buds of the tree to gratefully sink his fangs into and savour the refreshing taste lingering on his tongue.

Feels so right to defile your prudish self, doesn’t it? So, don’t blame him then. Don’t blame him when he suggests — no, coldly orders you to strip off your damn pants which prompts another gaping stare of yours to the sudden command. Handsome, but so, so clueless, aren’t you? Needs to tell you to do everything for your sluggish brain to eventually catch up to his ever approaching rhythm, cocky grin plastered onto his lips signalling that your step-brother is indeed not kidding around as per usual.

“What’re you waitin’ for? I said, strip.” It’s not a gentle reminder nor a well-intentioned push in the right direction, it’s a repeated warning of his thinly veiled frustrations peeking its way through, past the useless restraints he placed onto himself when he could easily be given what he’s wanted. Not without force, though that is in Whitney’s nature to be as rough as possible, having grown accustomed to things going his way whenever he inevitably turned to bloodied brutality. After all, the bully doubts so himself that you don’t furtively desire this all the same too, conflicted movements headed towards the leathered loop of your belt as you willingly comply as tasked to. Good boy, knew you had it in y’a.

“Do I really gotta do this?” If it weren’t for the pretty, pink flush adorning the entirety of your face right now, your older brother would’ve definitely snapped back with a snarky remark of his own, however the sight itself is enough to let him have your dumb self uselessly hope a little further. What does it look like, little brother? Has Whitney ever backtracked on his truthful words?

“Yeah, you gotta cuz’ I told you to. Now just fuckin’ do it already, slut. I don’t got all day.”

“..Fine.” Having fully predicted such a response, heavy shoulders slouching lazily in defeat from the refusal, you shyly carry on with the clumsy strip tease of yours. Can never get your way with him, can y’a?

Goddamn it, shamefully reprimanding yourself for even following suit to his harsh retort though, can you really blame yourself? He’s got you — fucking, trained you like a dog. That’s what it is, a stupid, dumb mutt that can’t help but intrinsically cave in to its depraved instincts as his rightful owner happily taught him to, mindlessly huffing and wagging its fluffy tail to the sugary sweet praise whispered to him. Conditioning you to his every whim as a promising, rewarding treat awaiting in exchange for your dutiful obedience, not bothering to keep your remaining underwear either. Big brother knows best, huh? Look at that pitiful expression etched along your features, averting gaze straying away from his piercing own that’s settled precisely on the drooling tip of your fat, twitching cock dribbling out an alarming amount of pre-cum. How you resist the underlying temptation to automatically press your legs together, denying Whitney of that upfront, perverted view of your spread thighs. So damn easy to get you riled up in a matter of seconds when a tight, warm hole is involved in the filthy equation.

As ensured, you’ll receive as you wish, pup. Only natural to fulfill what you so gravely desire when you’ve been so good so far, right? Offer you the bearing fruits of your well-earned efforts in return while you thoughtlessly salivate over the mere idea, yeah?

“Whitney, this is kinda embarrassing..” Kinda? Practically humiliating to display yourself so lewdly like this, however not as if you hadn’t experienced this rarely either in the past few weeks that steadily transpired. Should’ve grown used to it by now, actually. Still, the lingering shyness of brazenly exposing yourself like this was too much to bear at times, especially with the other’s daunting ogling. Really has to unabashedly eye-fuck you every single time or something. It’s.. somewhat flattering to be thoroughly appreciated like this despite instinctively knowing it’s out of pure, utter objectification.

Aimlessly losing yourself in the middle of your straying thoughts, it’s the recurring shuffling of fabric carelessly being thrown onto the wooden, creaking floor that draws you back to the hazy reality before you. Fuck, a wet dream is a far more suitable term with how this is stereotypically playing out, the confident, sure movements of your older brother’s calloused hands busying themselves with the hem of his waistband and — oh, he’s surely tugging his sweats down, okay. His.. fucking dick, god — how didn’t you conveniently notice how rock hard his cock was beneath that cotton thin material? Leaving you to breathlessly gawk at the free view of Whitney’s drooling tip roughly smacking against the tensed muscles of his stomach, briefly connecting strings of pre-cum to meld with his cooling sweat. Retaking that relaxed, slouched position along the single bed as if he isn’t currently stark naked in front of your unmoving eyes. That distracting to you, huh? Horny mutt.

“Like what you see, slut?” That fucking conceited tone of his makes you want to respond with anything but an affirmative yes, though through the thick lump you swallow down your throat, it’s the muted nod of your head that further serves him to grin widely in satisfaction. Wanna prove him wrong so badly, so damn so. Yet, how can you when he’s shown you all the reasons not to?

Should’ve been paying closer attention then, baby brother. How your brain immediately shuts off in a haze of confusion, numbing static prickling at your empty mind once the blonde instead settles himself comfortably onto your awaiting lap. “Fuckin’ nice seat.” Would’ve been a more comedic remark if it weren’t for the provoking press of his bare ass flush against your pulsing cock, questionably twitching in approval from the brief physical contact. Christ, get a grip on yourself, you moron but, oh — Fuck. You could just.. fucking slip it in and it wouldn’t hurt to let Whitney take the lead as predicted, greedily relish in the slippery warmth fervently welcoming you? Since at the end of the day, you’re just a man, no? A simple man with stupidly horny urges and needs to gratefully sink his cock into the nearest wet hole that merely happens to be his big brother’s whorish one.

Still, that portion of your mind beckons you to reason along with the weirdly alluring pull of plainly muttering out fuck it, shove it in and— and, do the nastiest shit possible, y’know? Yeah, you should do it. Actually, no. No way in fucking hell should you proceed with it. Uselessly humping your hips upwards with a sickening jolt that draws a relieving sigh from the both of you. Stop it, you pervert. You’ve become no better than him, have you?

“W-What’re you doing..?” Is all you can pathetically muster to his blatantly obvious actions, knowing full well what he’s truly doing. Riling you up. Teasing along the edges of your withering limits till it collapses fully onto the ground. It’s what he does best, driving you insane on the daily from school, to outside, to home and his room you frequently pay visits to at night.

“What does it look like I’m doin’? I’m about to fuck your cute cock, pretty boy.” Pretty. Ah, that shouldn’t be your main focus with how he announces it so casually, essentially admitting he’s planning to ride you. Struggling to grasp onto the foreign concept of him, well— being on the receiving end of sex. Doesn’t he like, usually prefer to be the one in the dominant position? In fact, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he had selfishly decided to fuck your ass next, fill it to the brim with his seed. Yet, here he is, contently rubbing himself on your flushed, oozing tip, swearing gently as it barely grazes against his puckered hole, thoughtlessly clenching around practically nothing. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m only doing this to stake my claim on you, alright? Not fuckin’ fair if some bitch gets to fuck your virgin dick first so, hah— I’m making you into a proper slut. My slut.”

Very convincing, Whitney. Not so much so when he’s shuddering eagerly above you like a man about to be given the slightest taste of heaven itself, namely your cock it seems. Hot. Shit, it is a pretty hot sight, you’ve gotta admit.

So, is this purely a flimsy excuse of his to fuck himself stupid on your dick? Need that much to blindly persuade you he isn’t some sort of drooling cockwhore deep down? Nice try, big brother. Well, you can effortlessly see through his nonchalant act, the barely discernible, rosy flush dusting along his cheeks confirming his secretive, depraved and filthy desires simmering deeply within his core.

“Fuckin’ — ah, help me put it in already.” The resounding gasp escaping him is so breathy, so unlike the dominant, assertive Whitney you’ve familiarized yourself with that your lethargic brain hardly registers his direct order, sounding more like a frantic plea than anything else. Put it in? The little, stuck-up bastard is having difficulty sliding it in, resorting to your aid to lend a helping hand to his futile struggles? That’s cute. The indiscernible trace of a smirk beginning to form onto your lips from his uncharacteristically submissive demeanour, still withholding a decent amount of control in this situation here. Ah, what’re you even saying? He’s given you full leverage to wreck his tight, little hole as you happily please, fuck yourself deeper in that wet warmth you’ve been subconsciously seeking out. You’re the one cupping him within the palm of your hand, oddly contented with this newfound revelation, this switch of power dynamics.

“Can’t you put it in yourself then? It’s not that hard, is it? You’re the one always wanting to do everything so I think it’s only fair you do it.” Indulging in the scowl that appears shortly on his straining features only to dissolve under another one of his tough exteriors. “Fuck, you want me to? Can’t put it in yourself, huh?” He counters snidely, grasping for the bottle of lube conveniently placed on the night dresser nearby, accompanied by barking out a sharp huff of laughter as you cuss out loud a fuck! from the cooling, sticky mixture squirted plainly onto your cock.

“Shit! That’s cold! Why’d you pour it on me? Aren’t you supposed to put it in your— y’know? Your—“ Pausing bashfully in your tracks, immaturity running so deeply you couldn’t even properly stammer out the term if you wished to.

“My what? My ass? I’m not putting that in there, I can fuck myself on your cock just fine without that crap.” Lewd. That’s so lewd how he outwardly states it, blazing face hidden behind your cupped palms as though such a gesture would make this alright, make whatever he’s doing — smoothly grinding on the tip of your lubed, quivering length, how his hole teasingly snatches onto your flushed, leaking cock head only to disappointingly let go again. Fuck, fuck — Fuck. Doing this on purpose, isn’t he? Intent on driving you mad before he even manages to shove it in.

But, as previously stated before, there’s nothing more you hate than to lose, don’t you?

Really, he should be the one blaming himself for your rash and impulsive movements, shouldn’t be letting out that surprised yelp, silenced by a high-pitched gasp as you finally have had enough of his provoking mockery to mutter out a sharp fuck it and drive your increasingly impatient cock right in. Head stupidly thrown back in sheer shock from the unfamiliar yet admittedly pleasurable sensation of having his tight, virgin hole stuffed full of your cock right about now. Clear outline of your entire length pulsing deep within him by the noticeable quivering of his toned tummy, which you don’t hesitate to firmly plant your palm against to draw another satisfying, strangled whimper past his lips. Whore.

“Ah, fucking shit— You’re so fucking tight. Relax a bit for me or I can’t move.” Might as well be snapping your dick in half from the unbearable clenching of his unused insides, warm insides that you’re pervertedly staining white with every glide of your forceful thrusts, every harsh slam of your hips against his ass. Can’t stop yourself though — God, no. Not when the addictive heat of his hole envelops you so damn fucking well, rendering you both to mindlessly cling onto each other, entangled bodies slick with hot sweat trickling steadily down the navel of your arched backs. Namely his. And oh, he really does feel so good. Never mind all the shit he’s done, the stingy tugs of his fists deep within your messied hair, urging you to fuck yourself deeper into his trembling frame. This is the sweet taste of revenge you’ll so dearly savour, hungrily imprinting every choked moan to memory for later reminiscing.

Isn’t he so cute too? Tightening fingertips digging harshly into your shoulders for proper stability, an immediate roll of his eyes to the back of his skull whenever you angle your hips to hit that overly sensitive spot that sends a sickening jolt up his spine. Bound to be leaving marks, though that’s the least of your concerns with how goddamn pretty he looks when fucked stupid, fucked utterly brainless to match the feverish haze of his glazed over eyes. “See? I think you secretly enjoy it, Whitney. I think you— hah, fuck — enjoy that I’m taking the lead for once. ‘S that it? You like havin’ my cock inside you, huh? Like it when your little brother fucks you?” No matter how many times he may blatantly refuse and deny it, through the clawing of his nails, etching bloodied scars into your back that are sure to reside in your skin later on— You fucking know by the squeeze of his slutty hole, ring of cream having nicely settled around the base of your cock. The cocky bitch loves it.

“F-Fuckin’—“ Big brother having trouble speaking? “Bastard, shut— ah! up!” The pitiful whine echoing deeply from his throat almost makes you want to cease your endless blabbering, but y’know what? Fuck that. May as well endure the severe consequences of his actions, from the second you had arrived here, it was bound to end solely in one conclusion. You, balls deep in his ass. You, stupidly drunk off the mere act of ruthlessly fucking your older brother cuz’ shit, does it feel so amazingly good. “If you keep looking at me like that, it only— hah, makes things harder for me here. God, Whitney.. Don’t fucking stop squeezing me, ‘kay?” Not really doing any better than him either, any semblance of control within you possibly thrown out the window with every pleasurable stroke of your cock being sucked so sloppily by his stretched out hole. One thing the delinquent was right about — You being the equivalent of a dumb mutt. A dumb, drooling mutt huffing over his bare chest, depraved instincts kicking in to suck on whatever happens to be nearest and that consequently leads to your dazed gaze zeroing in on his swollen nipples.

Pretty, so fucking pretty. It’s not fair.

Deserving of every torturous inch his tight hole greedily swallows up, the sight of his neglected, puffy nipples almost too much to bear for your watering mouth.

A little taste wouldn’t hurt, would it?

How careless of you to overlook such an area that so desperately needs your loving attention too. Bad little brother you are for that, huh? “Promise to make you feel so good.” Sighing out a guttural groan as the softened pad of your thumbs find home to idly flick at the erect glands, eliciting another strangled curse from the delinquent once again. Sensitive here, isn’t he? “Shit.. Every time I touch your tits here, you tighten up like crazy, hah. Want me to suck on ‘em too?” It’s more of a fervent heads up for your upcoming actions than a polite request, pink tongue curiously poking out to glide along the sheen of sweat settled thickly on the rosy buds. “M-Motherfucker.. Don’t you fuckin’ dare— hmph!” Hastily cut off by the palm of his own hand clasped upon his mouth, he can’t help but to cave in at your perverted antics, specifically that weird obsession of yours with his chest or tits as you so obscenely call ‘em. Shivering lightly at the rhythmic lapping at his nipples which is soon followed by the roll of your tongue against the sensitive flesh, fully latching onto one of them to appreciatively suckle on. The things you do to him, a full on body shock simply from having his pretty tits toyed with, his nipples coyly sucked on by the moist engulf of your warm mouth. “W—What?? Stop, ah, that!” How the fuck do you get to him like this every damn time?

And why the hell does it have to feel so fuckin’ good too?

Screw you, really.

Having managed to get past his carefully placed barriers he put upon himself, a means of protection for his fragile pride that you so selfishly tear away at. Because it’s fun to, an absolute power rush to intently observe your slutty older brother fall apart on your fat cock, split his ass open while you’re at it. Teary eyes threatening to spill free more droplets down the length of his scarlet cheeks, bitten lips oozing fresh blood from your nipping teeth and tongue to gently suckle at as a well-deserved reward. Golden locks becoming increasingly more disheveled from every bounce on your cock, the guidance of your hands locked firmly onto his hips to witness the disappearance and reemergence of your leaking tip to reach that one single spot deep inside him.

And it’s real adorable when you draw your hips further back only to be halted by the weight of his legs wrapped securely around your waist to prevent you from pulling all the way out, so stubbornly too. “Oh, want me to cum inside?” The derisive pitch of your laughter has the blonde simmering in his humiliating position, too caught up in the intoxicating pleasure of being fucked so mercilessly like this to bother uttering out a curse of denial. Fangs bared, seething glare shot solely towards you, it’s you. Of course, it’s you who has the final say, the upper hand regardless. As always. “I-I swear to fuckin’ god, if you pull out now— I’m going to fucking kill you, asshole.” He threatens as per usual, but the shaky incoherence of his speech riddled with whiny moans discredits his shitty attempt at intimidation, coaxing you to readily follow suit to his orders.

Ah, look at him. Fucking bitch in heat.

Can’t say no to that face, can you?

“Wasn’t planning on it anyway, Whitney.” You mutter out soothingly in the shell of his ear, slightly unsettled by the softening tone you’ve taken on to address him. Is it due to the pathetic appearance he’s taken on from your relentless bullying? ‘S not fair he gets to look all cute and pouty while you’re struggling to keep up here, stuttering hips clumsily humping forward to make up for the messy pace because ah— fuck, you’re nearing your fill and so is Whitney, by the looks of it. “You can’t—“ Cutting himself off in a soundless gasp as your balls heavily smack against his ass, mind gone completely blank from the sheer euphoria of having his hole filled to the brim. Can’t? Sure, he can handle just a little more, can’t he? Cmon, he can do better than that. Drool dripping freely from his parted lips for yours to plant sloppy kisses against, stifling his open moans. Drawing your hips one last time to relish in the tight warmth of his wet insides— really, you’ll miss it, fuck— you barely get to process the thick ropes of cum spurting out of his bobbing cock, accompanied by your own climax shortly after. “S-Sorry, oh my god— I’m so sorry, you feel too good. I can’t—“ You sputter out uselessly, a hollow excuse when you continue on with your sloppy thrusts, burying yourself to the hilt to shoot your thick load into. Staining his walls white with your seed since your hips can’t stop themselves from fucking your cum deeper, not till he squirms and swears at you to stop it altogether.

Alright, so maybe you did end up going a tad bit too far this time, but it’s not like he didn’t ask for it. Or so you mumble to yourself to soothe your ever growing worries of where this may lead after the shortly lived, euphoric high you’ve just experienced. Nervously lifting your gaze to seek his as you’re greeted with.. ah, it seems you did fuck up. If anything, you’ve dug yourself a hole so steep you couldn’t possibly climb out of it now. Okay, he looks pissed. Doesn’t mean you don’t have time to mend things between the two of you, right? It’s as you finally muster up a foolish smile to meet his sour expression, that his frown significantly deepens in return.

“..So, uh. Did you like it?”

You’ve got a death wish, don’t you?

Should’ve probably expected this one. The shockingly loud slam of the wooden door closed shut on your face, promptly interrupting your frantic pleas and apologies. Heaps of dirty clothes thrown right into your arms for you to awkwardly pick up from the floor soon after. “Whitney, don’t be like that. Whitney, c’mon. I’m sorry—“ You’re not actually all that sorry, it’s just he looks too cute when angry, really.

“Fuck off!!”

Stubborn as ever, huh? At least, you’ve got to imprint those slutty sounds to memory for later use, having gotten your answer to leave him be for the time being. And oh, glancing down to be met with the sight of your still-hard, neglected cock tented pitifully against the front of your jeans has to be some sort of revenge for your previous animalistic actions, surely. Seriously? Didn’t you just cum too?

..Well, you’ve always got the bathroom to take care of that.

[sen-ya]

part 1/7

hi hello this is the first in a series of comics that I've kept close to the chest but am finally confident enough to share :')) I made these during a bought of gender anger where I went "how can I give dysphoria to the man who can do whatever he wants to his body."

somewhere around like 7-10 yrs post canon, law is a trans man (pls rest assured every law i draw is a trans man)

[op comic masterpost]

[reverie-starlight]

{the proposal- kuroo}

on today’s episode of “rev accidentally disregards the polls she made”, we have this fic :3 I actually adore this one, it was so fun to write!! hope you enjoy <3 also… thank you sm for 1k followers 😭🫶🏻 that’s huge, I appreciate everyone sm 🥹

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. fluff fluff fluff. alcohol mentions, drunk reader. dialogue heavy at the start.

“You need to propose to me.”

Kuroo, who is enjoying his drink, begins to choke. “I what?”

You roll your eyes with a barely concealed smile.

“Not for real, silly, just a fake one.”

He looks at you like you’ve gone insane. “I’m not following.”

“We’re broke university students, do you really think we can afford to pay for more than two drinks tonight? If you propose, I bet people would make a drunken mistake and offer to buy us a celebration round.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him as he continues to give you that same incredulous look.

“That’s-“ he cuts himself off before he can finish that thought and starts with a new one. “I doubt that would work. I mean, maybe at a restaurant with free dessert, but a bar? Really?”

“I’ve seen it done in stranger places!” You defend yourself. “Besides, you’ve been sipping on your drink for the past 25 minutes. If the ice had poison in it, you’d be dead by now,” you lean back and cross your arms.

Your boyfriend just shakes his head. “Your mind is a very interesting place. Alright, fine. We’ll do it, but if it doesn’t work that’s going to be really embarrassing. Hand me your ring, I’ll do it when more people are around.”

You only have to wait another ten minutes before a group of business men having a meeting a couple of tables over appear to be drunk enough to invest in young love.

Your boyfriend nods once to signal that he’s going to do it and soon enough he’s on one knee, fake tears forming at the corners of his eyes and a dusting of pink on his cheeks that make you want to kiss them.

(Your heart jumps that the thought that he could do this for real one day).

“You’re the love of my life,” he begins, and you make a mental note that he either has a bright future in acting or his drink really is too strong, despite his insistence that he could handle it earlier.

A lady one table over gasps and draws more attention to the performance in front of the customers.

“And I absolutely adore every single thing about you. I had a whole plan for this, but with the way you’re looking tonight, I can’t wait a second longer. We’ve managed to get many years together already, and I’d be honoured to spend the rest of our lives just like this. Will you marry me?”

You’re genuinely touched at his words and the sincerity in his tone almost makes you forget it’s fake.

Not wanting to make your audience wait much longer, you make a big show of nodding your head and jumping into his crouched form with a loud “yes!”

Drunken cheers are only background noise while you press against his chest. His heartbeat eliminates the chance of you focusing on anything but him.

Kuroo tips his head down to whisper, “think we pulled it off?”

You nod against him and start to get up. He looks over to see one of the drunk business men coming over to greet you.

“Congratulations on your engagement! Let us buy the happy couple some drinks!”

The man’s face is flushed and he gestures to his table. “Order whatever you’d like, it’ll be put on our tab.”

You fake surprise. “Oh my goodness, that’s very generous of you, but we could never take advantage of your kindness like that!”

Beside you, your ‘fiancé’ stifles a laugh but the man doesn’t notice. “No, I insist! You should celebrate.”

This time Kuroo takes over. “Ah… well, thank you, sir. Rest assured we won’t go too crazy.”

The man laughs and claps him on the back. “What a polite couple of kids you are! Reminds me of me and my wife,” he winks before heading back to his table, whistling some tune.

You spin around and look up at your boyfriend with a smug grin. “So what are we getting first?”

A couple of hours later, you’re both stumbling into your campus apartment, giggling and trying to shush each other despite not having any other roommates.

You somehow manage to get through your night routines and fall back into your bed soon after. You’re a far more wasted than Kuroo is (he always drinks less than you to be able to take care of you), so he tries to get you to sip on some water.

He watches you with a silly grin as you fiddle with your “engagement” ring. You’ve since slipped it back onto your index finger where it originally was this evening, but you move it back to your ring finger and fiddle with it.

“I think…” your words are slightly slurred and laced with sleep. “I mean, I know… that I don’t want my real engagement ring to be diamond.”

His grin widens so much his cheeks begin to hurt. “No? So what will it be, baby?”

You form your own smile. “I’m sure I’ll love whatever you come up with. You know me best after all.”

He forces you to take another sip of water when your words don’t get any less coherent. While you drink he thinks of the ruby ring tucked away somewhere at Kenma’s house. You’re far too good at sniffing out clues and he’s never been good at keeping secrets from you.

You’re still in university, it’s far too soon to get engaged for real- you’ve both always said you wanted to wait until you’re done with school- but he’s been saving up for that ring since high school. he’s always knows you would be the one for him.

So when the time comes he’ll be ready. With a speech much better than whatever he said tonight.

“Alright, let’s get some sleep. You’re going to have the worst hangover tomorrow, you haven’t had that much to drink in a while.”

You tug at his wrist before he can shut the lamp off. “Wait, don’t you want to celebrate our engagement?”

“Sleep, baby.”

You pout a bit. “Don’t you think we celebrated enough tonight?”

You stare at him and he sighs. “There’s plenty of time for celebrating our fake engagement some more tomorrow,” he shuts the lamp off and wrangles you down with him. “Now it’s time for sleep.”

“‘m not tired,” you mumble, obviously lying. “I could go all night.”

You settle onto your pillow and he strokes your cheek. “I know, sweetheart, you’re a fighter.”

You nod as you begin to doze off.

He notices the ring still on your finger and he smiles softly.

The hangover you’ll be sporting tomorrow will definitely have been worth it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ty for reading!!! i hope you enjoyed <3

tagging: @emmyrosee @luvring @dira333 @tetzoro

[poeticmystery]

niccolo bf headcannons, how would he be with his gf, particularly a shy girl :))

oh my gosh he’d be insufferable (but also the sweetest guy ever?)

i did this with a few headcanons and a short imagine cus i didn’t know what one you’d like! enjoy!! 🤍

- this boy would love to see you get all flustered from his compliments, or hide your face to not let him see how red it’s getting. - if you were diverting your eyes from him for whatever reason, he’d definitely make you look at him - “lemme see that pretty face” - “c’mon ma, i don’t bite” - “unless you want me to” - all jokes aside, if someone were to talk over you when you were finally trying to speak your mind, he’d make sure you knew he was paying attention atleast. - “shut up and let her finish, yeah?” - he’s the only one allowed to tease you for how flustered you get - someone else goes “oooh she’s blushing, nicco, look whatcha do to her,” - he is pissed - “yeah? what about it?” he’d snap, knowing you wouldn’t want him to be too rude, but simultaneously not wanting you to be embarrassed - he’d def say some choice words to them later, regardless of if they were his friend or not 😊 - if you wanted him to, he’d order for you at a restaurant, or things of that sort

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

you and niccolo were sat on his couch, with brando and vittorio sitting beside the two of you, chatting mindlessly about something trivial. you had your legs splayed over niccolo’s thighs, his hands holding them in place.

you were reading a book, one that he had gotten you a few days ago, his excuse being he had just saw it and remembered you wanting it. the reality had been that he had waited for it to be released, just to be able to purchase it for you as soon as it did.

either way, he’d never forget the way your face had lit up when he presented it to you. with your expression, it could’ve been guessed that he gave you some crazy expensive gift, rather than just a fifteen euro book.

the boys continued talking, though nicco’s gaze kept flashing back towards you, as if he couldn’t bare to draw his eyes away for longer than a couple minutes.

you finished the chapter you were on, putting a small slip of random paper in as a bookmark.

he turned towards you, noticing the look in your eyes. it was always like he could read you like the books you always had your nose stuck in.

brando and vitto turned the conversation to just be between the two of them, letting niccolo talk to you rather than them.

you started chatting about the book, slowly changing subjects into how your day was. he listened close, occasionally nodding you along so you felt more comfortable letting him know about all these things.

that was, until brando started tapping the boy’s shoulder, trying to get his attention. you stopped talking, wanting niccolo to be able to talk to his friends, not wanting him to feel obliged to listen to you ramble.

this made him suddenly frustrated. he could’ve dealt with the incessant hits against his shoulder. but now that you had stopped talking, now that he wasn’t able to listen to your sweet voice, he was upset.

“bro, ‘m right in the middle of a conversation here, fuck off,” nicco sassed towards his friend, causing him to hold his hands up defensively and turn back to vitto.

then, his voice softened as he looked back towards you, “go ahead, babe, ‘m listening,” he urged, his eyes scanning over your face.

you shrugged, “it’s fine, you can talk to your friends,” you assured, opening up your book again.

“c’mon, please,” he practically begged, just wanting to hear more about how you were doing. he disliked doing this in front of his friends, as he hated for people to see the softer side of him, especially people like vitto.

still, he’d do anything for you, and he’d do it a thousand times more.

“tell me more about the girl you saw in the halls. what was her name? ludo?”

it was as if a switch in you flipped, as you nodded at the mention of your friend, going into a more in depth story about the dark-haired girl.

you had no clue what was yet to come with her.

baby taglist: lmk if you’d like to be added!

divider by h-aewo!

[belladonnadawn]

Memento Mori

Going against Dontis' wishes, you found yourself in the labyrinth with one thing in mind only: to save him. CW: Blood, gore, and death.

Dontis x Reader

The streets of New Orleans were filled with colors and loud celebratory music, it was lively and festive– a contrast to your current state. Your mind was clouded with doubt and anxiety; you could only think about him and him only. The world felt like a different place with no one to be alone with. 

You have contemplated everything, there’s not a day when his words slipped through your mind. Dontis’ compassion and faith never ceased to amaze you. But you know how trimedian works– there’s no fair fight in their ideology. When it’s time to strike, they strike. When it’s time to kill, they kill. There’s no mercy between two sides, it will all end in death.

Driving down near the lake, took a deep breath as you reached your destination. You turned off the engine faced by silence. The weight of the situation continues to trouble you. You could turn back and hold on to that vow, or you could hold on to that conviction and assure yourself that he’d be alive and well. 

It took you minutes– you chose the latter. If you can capture Dontis and lock him in your basement, what more can others do knowing that it’s a raging war?

You took a deep breath, your decision as strong as ever. Gathering your belongings, you prepare yourself for what might you encounter. 

Descending down the labyrinth, you could feel your heart beat out of your chest. Your footsteps light as you reach the base, careful not to attract any unwanted attention. The place was dark and damp, the ambiance only added to your fear.

As you went down the labyrinth you could see corpses– supernatural or human. It was a disturbing sight, one that would haunt you until the day you die. 

You went deeper, exploring every corner carefully. The place was strangely quiet, you never liked silence, it made you listen to your own heartbeat. And you understood from a very young age that if you can hear it, they do too. 

Taking the corner, your heart stopped as a hand suddenly grabbed you. You didn't hesitate to immediately draw your weapon. Pointing it to them, your eyes widened as you finally faced him.

"What did I say about getting involved?!" Dontis whispered angrily, pulling you closer to him. You felt a wave of relief, seeing him alive and well– but still, you can’t help but feel guilty for going against his wishes.

You shake yourself out of his grasp, "You may be mad at me, but I can't let you die here."

"By making yourself an enemy? A target? You know that I am more than capable– we are more than capable." Irritation seeped through his voice, almost unrecognisable from the sweet and gentle Dontis you knew. 

"I know that you're angry, but I just can't watch knowing what might happen." Your voice cracked, looking at him with concern. “I can’t lose someone again. I can’t lose you.” 

Dontis' eyes softened, "I understand, but there are risks you can't just blindly take. You're safer than dealing with these once more.”

“I know, but please understand–”

“It’s over.” You both turned to see a blonde man walking towards both of you, interrupting your discussion. Your eyes landed on the unconscious person that he was carrying from his back, and landed back to his face. Blood stained their clothes as they wore the same weary expression, exhausted and pained from what the battle had brought them. 

Dontis nodded, wearing the same empathetic face. “We need to get in contact with others and see their situation. Both of you need to go back and rest, Xanthus. We’ll handle the others.” 

You nodded as you heard his name. Xanthus, the vampire with the bond. Dontis mentioned him to you multiple times, but seeing him personally in this setting felt surreal. 

“Are you sure you can handle it?” Xanthus asked, his face filled with concern.

“We can. I’m not alone anymore, remember?” Dontis gave him a reassuring smile.

Xanthus glanced at you before turning back to Dontis, he nodded. “Take care. And don’t hesitate to contact me.” He said firmly.

“I will.” 

And with that, he departed leaving both of you alone together. Dontis handed you a device to help you communicate with others. “Don't worry, that's an extra.” He gave you a small smile. 

“Where shall we begin?” 

“Finally, we thought we're done for.” A woman sighed, holding someone and herself up as her wounds continued to bleed. “Those bastards. Never thought that they'd hide their place here.” She groaned.

“At least we're able to find you, imagine our shock when we saw your location.” Dontis sighed.

“Well, imagine my shock when I found out their location after they dragged me under the lake.” 

Dontis turned to you, “This is Fran and that one's Samia.” He introduced. 

You gave them a nod, as you tried to help them up.

“We'd like an introduction right now, but I don't think it's the right time.” Fran groaned as she carried Samia. 

“We need to get out of here while we still can.” They all nodded, walking outside the place as fast as you can.

After twists and turns, you were finally able to find the path that led outside. All of you hurried towards the exit with Fran and Samia in front of you as you both guided them to the exit. You and Dontis held the heavy door open from each side, letting them escape first.

As you were about to leave, a loud deafening sound filled the room followed by a thud. You turned to see Dontis, falling to his knees while clutching his chest. Everything happened too quick, it didn't register until you saw a gun pointed in his direction, smoke billowing from the barrel. A small gasp escaped your lips as you saw the person behind it– Audric, that bastard survived! 

Rage filled your body, you quickly drew your weapon beating down the already beaten man. His eyes widened, finally noticing you. Before he could retaliate, you lunged at him and sliced his neck. You saw his head roll on the floor, this time it was finally over.

Running towards Dontis, you pulled him closer. Your eyes widened as you examined his wound. The bullet from the shotgun left a hole on his chest, making him bleed quicker than you expected. 

"[name]..." Dontis croaked out weakly.

“No, no– you can do this. You can regenerate!” You held him close, frantically doing whatever you can to save him. 

The sight of his gaping wound as blood continues to flow from it was maddening. You tried to patch it up, hoping that pressure would help his case. But as his warm blood flows from your hand, hope slipped away with it.

You removed your jacket, wrapping the wound with it. Your hand reached for the radio, calling for immediate back up. And with all your might, you tried to drag him outside. 

Painful groans escaped his lips as you dragged his body, “[name], w-wait.” 

You stopped, not wanting to hurt him further. Kneeling, you cupped his face, “Come on, few more steps and we're out. We can do this!” You spoke, trying to convince him– or yourself. You tried to ignore the amount of blood that continued to stain the floor. 

As you looked at him, the lessons about creatures like him replayed in your mind. He was immortal, but he was not invincible. Back then, you would've exploited it, but now witnessing his limit was torturous. You fell to your knees, sobbing your heart out. “I'm sorry. I'm really sorry.”

Dontis gave you a weak smile, his hand gently wiped your tears. You held the back of his hand, not wanting to let go. Even though he was the one hurting, he still found a will to comfort you. 

“I… understand what I signed up for… I accept my fate.” His voice was weak compared to the lively and joyous one you used to hear. 

“I don't, so you better hold on until they come back for us!” You tried to be strong, but how could you when the source of that strength was slowly fading away from your grasp.

Dontis nodded and he chuckled weakly, “You're remarkable…  that's what… I love about you…”

“Don't you dare close your eyes, Dontis, or I'm going to be so mad at you!” You applied more pressure to his wound, trying to prevent him from bleeding out. It was no use, he was getting more pale as he lost more blood. 

He looked at you once again, his eyes filled with love; a gaze that you'll always long for. Dontis’ hand caressed your cheek. His warm touches are now weak. “[name], the sky was a… shade of purple yesterday.”

Your heart dropped, feeling the heartbreak physically. At that point your world slowly crumbles as the reality of the situation hits you. You shook your head, still in denial of what was currently unfolding. You wanted to scream, to wail, to stop the time or rewind it so you're able to save him. But you knew it was impossible. Death is inevitable. 

“Dontis…” You tried to speak without your voice shaking, but you failed. “T-The clouds rolled in orange hues…”

A small smile formed on his lips, his body slowly resigned. You watched as he succumbed to his fate, holding his hand that once held yours. “I love you.” You whispered, kissing his cheek for the last time. 

For a moment, everything crashed down. The reality that you won't be able to see his smile, hear his voice, or hold him close was maddening. All you have was his cold body that you continued to cradle in your arms. What a cruel fate, for they have taken what you truly cherished once again.

Pattern banner from Cafekitsune.

[pawwzuu]

As a self shipper in the BTD community, I feel like it’s incredibly important for me to talk about the importance of acknowledging where our priorities lay, and how/why we do what we do. Let’s discuss!

Firstly, to those who don’t know me, hi! My name is Alice, I’m 23 years old and I’ve been self shipping with Ren Hana from the BTD universe for about five years now. So, what does this mean? What is self shipping?

Summarized, self shipping is exactly what it sounds like; inserting yourself into the media you enjoy, and shipping yourself with a character you like. Now, I’m not here to discuss the ethics and/or morality of shipping oneself with fiction, that’s a whole other discussion and not quite what I want to talk about here. I also feel it’s heavily irrelevant!

What I do want to discuss is the extremist topics and situations present in the BTD universe, and the want/desire to insert yourself into these extremist scenarios. You may be asking why on earth someone would want that, even more so draw themselves in these scenarios? Allow me to explain my perspective, and maybe I can expand your thoughts a little bit on this topic.

I’m going to preface all of this by saying the most important statement of all; I have a life outside of the way I present online! I assure you, even though I seem to talk about Ren Hana 24/7, I am very much focused on many other things including education in perusing a career.

The only reason why it seems so excessive is because this is my escape. I talk about Ren and that fantasy when I want to distract myself from unpleasant feelings or situations in my real life.

Which leads me to my first point, this is all purely fantasy, fiction. If you think about the concept of being kidnapped, tortured, taken advantage of, it sounds horrible. But when you play out these scenarios in your head, when you are able to safely practice these desires to escape, it’s a whole different ball park. Therein lies the difference between something real, and fiction; it is under the control of the person involving themselves in said fantasy. It’s practically roleplaying with a trusted partner, but that partner is fictional.

To further elaborate, I am someone who is heavily disturbed by true crime, gore, real life situations that harm real life people. It makes me feel physically ill and it sits with me for so long, and I’ve even developed paranoiac episodes due to true crime episodes or podcasts- it’s not something I enjoy in the slightest. To assume someone who has darker fantasies enjoys the suffering and hurt of others in a real life situation is incredibly crass and disrespectful to one’s character.

Secondly, from a whole other perspective, Ren Hana is a character I feel deeply connected to. Not just as a person, but a character. The changes he has went through canonically and narratively is something that I resonate with deeply, and quite frankly, I feel understood when it comes to his character. This is something that just happened and really wasn’t within my control, he’s a comfort character of mine by chance, not really by choice, not to sound dramatic, but it’s the truth.

Thirdly, to really tap into the universe and him as a character, his interests and likes make me feel incredibly validated! I am someone who is very shy, I struggle a lot socially and due to this it’s hard for me to make connections. Ren being someone who enjoys someone like that, it makes me feel incredibly validated and, well, wanted. Not only that, but his affinity for high aesthetics, specifically cutesy, frilly things, it brings me immense joy! I feel incredibly validated and noticed, I feel like me, as a person, I am getting noticed and appreciated for who I am, and that is so rare. Of course I would cling onto him immensely, you would too!

To summarize, everything here brings me joy, and no distress whatsoever. It’s all under my control, I get to decide what happens, and that’s what makes it so enjoyable. Now I am just one person with one perspective, but I assure you that if you asked around, everyone would pretty much have the same response.

If you took the time to read this throughout, thank you, and I hope I expanded your thoughts on this topic, even just a small bit!

Have a wonderful day/night. Thank you again! 💖

[wishfulsketching]

Here's Aalis walking her werewolf gf during the full moon.

Poor thing would get bored out of her mind if she had to spend the whole night inside a heavily fortified basement!

[kuppikahvia]

they needed a so called sanity check

[peachcott]

really normal about this guy. i definitely think about other things sometimes 👍

[lazycranberrydoodles]

kinktober day 7: swapping clothes

yippee yay xie lian in red! follow 4 more hua cheng bait 🚩

[melonlthawne]

baby speedster broke containment. Fatalities include the child lock on the fridge and a third of a gallon of strawberry ice cream . One child seriously disturbed from it all.

[kadens-a-bee]

SKID PUMP OH MY FUCKING GOD

[jazzzzzzhands]

So I got a tiny hat ..

He's at a tiny picnic!!

I want to draw him in a matching fit... Plus these shoes...

[healpimp]

If you are ever in doubt wether my posts with demo and soldier interacting are boots n bombs or not i promise you it is intended to be fully and utterly homosexual

[beewitched-monday]

I only wanted to draw Huey with a ponytail but noooo, my man had to have a whole page to himself