#mini answers

[sxturn-to-mxrs]

If you get this ask say 3 random facts about yourself(or not no pressure) and send to the last 7 people who interacted with your blog!

ookay

i wanted to be a shoe mender when i was little

i hate oranges

i have a HUGE sweet tooth

@someonewhogotanaccount @tastetherainbow290 @fish-ofishial123 @aylin-hijabi @loife1m @skeelly @mochamvgz

[minisqwish]

Stinky

What of it????

[miniartistme]

Oh I just found your blog by your request post, and your art is so pleasant to look at holy shit👁️👁️

Welcome in anon! And thank you, I’m glad you like my art :D

[meo-eiru]

Where do you think you are going?

[rooniearts]

Hey, I have a question.

What's up with Shadow from the future? Is he dead? Or is he still looking after Silver?

By the way, is Silver immortal alongside Shadow? If he weren't, it would be very sad.

So, technically, my main Dadow AU doesn't really end up with Silver in a bad future. It's a fixed future timeline where Silver actually gets to grow up in a happy and relatively normal environment, and Shadow gets to share his son with all his wacky friends. It exists just for fluff and sillies.

I DO, however, have an original timeline Dadow AU that does take place 200 years later in the no good very bad future. And THAT, my friend, exists only for the angst art.

[imreallyonthishellsite]

People with siblings or know a pair of siblings I've got a question for you

the other day I had a conversation with a guy who said sibling friendships don't really count bc that's family and I'm just like, ??? yeah that's my family but I can also like my sister as a person and have a friendship with her. So I'm just curious to see what the general vibe here is.

btw the "it's complicated" option is for ppl who are either estranged siblings, parenting their siblings, or some other issue they've got going on not any weird freak shit(ifkyk)

Anyways choose your option and if want you can explain in the tags

[ruinix]

God I might get in trouble for saying this but when I say I need to worship the man that is quinn hughes I mean it!

Hello, lovely. Here, you will never be in trouble, coz it is Quinn who will be in trouble for existing and being hot. 🙂‍↕️ This should be a simple thought….but….it became a full drabble. [This thot is also inspired by an excerpt i saw in Instagram (see at the end)] Severely no BETA. It is 3AM when i finish it.

Burning Touches

TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Hurt/Comfort (slight), Body worship (m!receving), Teasing, Unprotected Sex (protections, please. It’s important, lovely), Overstimulation (m), Quinn is being pathetic (kinda subby if you squint. He is definitely. / Switch notes) or he is just too weak for you 😉

Count: 1716 words | Masterlist

Quinn shivers the moment your hands finally touch his skin after hours of you tracing soft circles over his shirt. His hands grip the sheets to prevent himself from breaking his promise not to pounce on you and let you do what you want to do, because he will. He’s so close when all he can see is you on top of him.

Your eyes are glazed as you pour every bit of your attention on him.

The longer this goes on, the more he yearns for it. Every second, every minute, every hour, every day. That is all he wants. Him occupying your mind, because you occupy his. Every fucking day of the year.

When your finger slips under the hem of his shirt, he groans, nearly jumping at how quickly your eyes meet his, falling to his throat like you’ve marked the very sound that came straight from his fucking soul. Because it truly did. He’s fully bare. All his soul. All his body even fully clothed. All his mind. Every inch of him is at your mercy.

Then up, up and up, your hand travels. You purposely scratch your nails on his skin, marking and staking your claim with streaks. Physically temporary. Mentally permanent. Do you realize that? Every scratch you’ve made on his body is forever ingrained in his soul. Every single one.

All he can do is moan, pathetically thrusting his hips up for relief that he’s not at all getting because you aren’t sitting on his cock. Just on his thighs. His fucking thighs that are covered by his fucking sweatpants. Damn it.

‘Just why didn’t he just wear his boxers? Why did he pick these sweatpants after the shower? Just why?’ he hounds past self.

"Take it off, Quinn," you order, bringing him back to his reality.

You don’t need to expound. He understands, quickly sitting up, tugging his shirt with one hand, whimpering like a fool when you climbed off him so he can also remove his pants and briefs. His heart is aching at the smallest distance from you standing off the bed, your hands behind you. Too far. You’re too far. You shouldn’t be this far away from him. This shouldn’t be allowed.

You’re just two feet away, but it feels like you’re on the other side of a cliff where the connecting bridge has rotted and broken from the middle, effectively not letting him cross when all he needs is to be stuck to your skin. It won’t matter to him if there will be a deadly drop of sharp stone edges or a raging river. He will climb down—jump down if necessary—and crawl his way up to get to you. He needs you.

Despite his need, he only stares as he burns. He’s on fire as your burning-yet-dazed eyes soak in every detail of his body, taking your time. From his tousled hair, to the strands falling on his temple, to his slightly overgrown beard, to his shoulders, to his chest, to his abs, to his leaking cock, to his legs, down to his fucking toes. That makes him squirm, sitting back down with weak knees, his breaths coming in harder and harder.

His cock twitches when your eyes land on it. When your tongue darts out to sensually lick your lower lip, he falls further down steps of insanity. It hurts. His cock aches. So much. He needs to be touched by you. He needs to be fucked by you. He needs you more than ever.

Yet he sits, because he needs you to see how good he can be. For you.

 So good as he silently gazes at you, yearning for nothing more but your slightest touch.

"Just one touch. Please. Please. My Love," is the plea that got stuck at the tip of his tongue. The plea that he hopes you can see in his eyes, in the way he trembles. You must see him. He begs you to see.

The relief he feels when you step forward, crossing the impossible distance, is overflowing. Then you touch him, your palm meeting his chest, pushing so gently yet firmly. He fucking whines. You touched him. Now, he’s shaking even more. Too rattled. The anticipation is getting too much that his eyes burn from unshed tears. He can barely think as he follows your wordless order. He moves back to lay down. He gasps when you mount him. A lazy smile on your pretty face makes his chest tighten.

Why are you so beautiful? You are literally glowing. It’s probably the warm light of the lamps that you’ve carefully picked that made his house a home for both of you.  Yeah, the lights. But it’s you. You glow because you’re you. You glow because you are the light of his life.

A beacon that saves him in the darkness of nights.

No matter how exhausted he is—from the game losses, from the harsh speculations about him leaving, from the coldness of his teammates, his friends, being moved, from the cruel reality that his happiness doesn’t—or won’t ever—matter in the team after he gave everything for the team—you’re there to make it all better.

Oh, he’s lucky to have you.

His love.

He only realizes that he is silently crying when your thumbs brush away his tears, when you lean down and start to kiss the falling drops. You’re here. Always.A broken sob finally escapes him when you press your forehead against his. No words or permissions need to be said. He brings his arms around you as he seeks more comfort. The heated moment takes a pause. He cries because he needs to let it out and you know that.

“Don’t leave me,” he pleads. “Ever.”

“I won’t,” you immediately reply with no hesitation. “I’m here.”

“Again.” He tightens his hold.

“I’m here.”You squeeze your thighs against his sides, putting your weight on his chest, to ground him. It works. It always does. You repeat, “I’m here, Quinn.”

He cries and cries. He feels so vulnerable and so safe. He can be who he is, feel what he feels, break when he needs to, because you will always walk beside him, stop with him, wait with him as he gathers his pieces back together. You see him. All of him.

And he sees you.

He loves that he matches everything you give him. He will never be tired of doing so.

For minutes you two stay like that. Holding one another. Until his tears dry. Until he purges all the negativity with the help of your light that guides and that incinerates what needs to be gone. Until all that’s left is him still being absolutely fucking horny. His cock is begging for release as you softly rub your pussy over him, so slowly, so deliberate, because you know that his need is now different.

You press soft kisses all over his face, neglecting his lips where he needs it the most. Your hands slowly guide his to the headboard where he understands it should stay. He gulps and grips the bar. Shivers run down his spine because you don’t move to secure his wrists with the shackles dangling there for him to use on you or for you to use on him. Now, it’s for the latter, but you don’t use it. You simply trust him to keep his hands there. He won’t betray your trust. Not ever.

You kiss him lower. To every part of his body that you took your time drinking in earlier. He burns and burns and burns. So much more that you are touching him. Your lips ignite goosebumps on his skin, your tongue darting out to taste every bead of sweat that appears.

Your silent yet so loud repeated and cycling murmurs strum the strings of his soul, “You’re beautiful. You’re handsome. You’re strong. You’re amazing. You’re clever. You’re tenacious. You’re the very best.”

So affirming.

So touching.

He feels worshiped. Every kiss, every lick, every word affirms him. He feels loved. You love him. Only fool would be blind to that fact. Quinn is not a fool.

So, for every compliment, he answers, “I love you.”

Even if you don’t need to, once or twice, you reciprocate, “I love you too.”

When you kiss every exposed inch of him except for his lips and cock, you move up his body with more. Only now, your kisses are more of bites than kisses like you want to eat him.

You are eating him.

And instead of ‘I love you’s, while his knuckles are turning white as he grips the bar harder that he feels his arms cramping, his soul reverberating with every beat of his heart, he says “Please. Bite down harder.”

He needs you to leave bruises.

He needs you to break into his skin and make him bleed.

He needs you to swallow the slightest drops of blood of him.

He needs it so much.

Then, instead of compliments, you chuckle against his skin. Your eyes twinkle as you meet his pleading eyes. You murmur, mocking him, “Oh, you would like that, huh, Handsome?”

You won’t leave marks.

Not even the slightest imprint of your teeth. Not even the slightest discoloring for a hickey.

Not when he begs and whines and whimpers. Not when you sink your pussy down his cock. Not even when you fuck him after telling him not to move. Not when your pussy clenches around him so hard that he comes for you.

Over and over again.

However, when his mind is raw and fuzzy from how much you milk his cock that he can’t physically come anymore and when a tear of frustration escapes him, you finally bite down hard into his neck until his skin breaks.

Pain and pleasure shoot down his exhausted body. His cock twitches, aching and wanting to come but nothing comes out.

He is blacking out, his hands letting go of the bar, falling on the bed, not even going around you. He’s so spent.

Any noise is getting muffled, yet he hears your breathless and exhausted words so clearly.

“Such a good boy, Quinn. You did so well for me.”

The excerpt (I fear I got no link to source because I only screenshotted it days ago and it didn't leave my head one bit):

Good night 💙💙💙 I love you, sweeties, lovelies.

[sunnyrmrez]

[lara-cairncross]

Mama when will you feed us more Baja blast bro separation au???

mama is currently brainrotting about hedgehogs but i do have some microwaved leftovers for you. eat my child. ill have more for you eventually just keep reminding me

[sxturn-to-mxrs]

god i give up 😭😭 delete all the previous asks lets start afresh :D

HELLO MIMI CONGRATSS!! YOU DESERVER IT <33

may i req a

cabin five (ares): i assign you a weapon (you can req a type)

cabin ten (aphrodite): i ship you with a fictional character (you can req a fandom from my list) and assign you a romance trope

i was so confused with asks 😭😭😭 okay

THANK YOU GRAMMY <333

of course

cabin five (ares): i assign you a weapon (you can req a type)

you're assigned a transparent dagger with a silver hilt

cabin ten (aphrodite): i ship you with a fictional character (you can req a fandom from my list) and assign you a romance trope

i assign you

*drumroll*

(young) Remus Lupin from Harry Potter(???)

your trope: academic rivals to lovers (iykyk)

[minisqwish]

I cast "Power Word Cringe" at you

Ineffective

Cringe is dead. I killed it with my bare hands.

[whispering-clan]

am I an idiot I just noticed it’s little paw and big paw- excuse me well I scream. I’m so normal about these blorbos

AND WE’RE THE-

[forgettable-au]

Does Flowey exist in this au?

Yes, he does.

Everything's pretty much the same when it comes to the regular story in this AU. It's just the past, especifically Papyrus' past (wich we don't know much about to begin with) that changes

Actually Flowey is one of the main characters in the story! (the main story of this au is divided between the past before the game and a post-pacifist timeline:D)

He and Papyrus will have a fun dynamic

-some thought I had in tags behind the keep reading

Srry for the spelling mistakes in here but I can't go and fix tags because I would end up erasing everything😭tumblr struggles

[yawnderu]

I'm sorry but being with simon at the beginning of a relationship would be so awkward.💀

Like...

You can't take pics, you can't know about his routine, you can't know about his work and so goes on.

So or are you with him for the cock or because you have the syndrome of falling in love with strange men

>This turned into a mini character study. 😔🗣️

Good dick has taken you places you wouldn't even go to with a gun.

Simon is a kind man. Truly, he is. He's just... slightly strange. You don't know much about him other than the fact that he has served in the military— something he never even told you, you simply guessed by the dogtags he never takes off and the plethora of scars adorning his pale body, a privilege you didn't get until he realized he could trust you... for the most part.

For a man like Simon, vulnerability was nothing but a highly-desired privilege. Something he wouldn't allow himself to have ever again, hiding his face under different masks that caused the reactions he was looking for— intimidation and fear, the skulls doing nothing more than serving the purpose of representing all he was, a ghost. A man who died a long time ago, way before he was tortured by the greedy, cruel hands of Manuel Roba.

It's not that Simon doesn't love you, he simply doesn't know how to allow himself to be vulnerable. How to put down the walls he spent a lifetime building, serving as shelter from his father's abuse, nothing but a mere way of shielding the broken pieces of his soul, not allowing anyone to trample what little he had left.

... not until you came, at least. Sweet little thing, never moving away from his side even when Simon told you nothing good comes from men like him. Perhaps it's unfair, yet Simon only warned you once. Had a long chat with you about how you could do better— only for you to find yourself already tangled on his web, unable to leave even if you wanted to... and good for him, because the idea of leaving him never once crossed your mind no matter how difficult he could be.

For you, it was a test of patience and care, wanting to peel every single layer of the man Simon Riley is, yet for him, it's a new chance at life. The holy light, in a way, guiding him into a path he never found himself roaming, a path he never even thought he'd have the chance to see, not when he was such a tainted, dirty man, sins that would last him a lifetime easily forgotten the moment your arms wrap around him, holding him with such tenderness one would've thought he's made of expensive fine china rather than scar tissue and trauma.

It's not like Simon is a bad partner— quite the opposite, truly. He has a way with words, reassuring you that there'll be a time where he's able to reveal more about himself and what he does, having a scheduled delivery of flowers and food almost every day he's gone, wanting to keep you happy even when he's on the other side of the world, gaining more enemies by the day.

... And yet he is not afraid anymore. His enemies die with Ghost, by his punishing hand or that of an ally. The moment the mask comes off, he's your Simon. Yours and only yours, never even allowing himself to look at other women, he has the most gorgeous one by his side, one that loves him with all she has, making him feel like a proper lad for the first time in his life.

[gastersreturn]

I can imagine Alphys and Aster sharing notes and Aster's just looks like

👎︎♋︎⍓︎ 🗄︎🖰︎🖳︎ ❄︎♒︎♏︎ ☼︎□︎♌︎□︎⧫︎⬧︎ ✌︎❒︎♏︎ 👌︎♏︎♍︎□︎❍︎♓︎■︎♑︎ 💣︎□︎❒︎♏︎ 💧︎♏︎■︎⧫︎♓︎♏︎■︎⧫︎📬︎ ❄︎♒︎♏︎⍓︎🕯︎❖︎♏︎ 💧︎⧫︎♋︎❒︎⧫︎♏︎♎︎ ❄︎□︎ 😐︎■︎□︎⬥︎ 💣︎⍓︎ ☠︎♋︎❍︎♏︎📬︎

and alphys is entirely befuddled.

Oh it definitely happened more than once yep xD But don't worry, Alphys is fine, she got someone to help for the translation :D

Oh...Well, my bad, not really helpful

[ruinix]

also i cant stop thinking abt shotgunning quinn bc FUCK

shotgunning QUINNIFER?! (IS THIS AN ASK FOR A DRABBLE?!). Some thoughts--NOPE, it became a drabble as we can see. Just a mini drabble though :> (this is simply in your POV) [Note: I edited it; 503-> 575 words...oops)

Beers and Dares

TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Alcohol Consumption, A bit suggestive (nothing really happened), just Quinn shotgunning lmao

Word: 575 words | Masterlist

Quinn is the person who wouldn’t reveal his party tricks until he was given the spotlight or a dare—rather, taunted to do so by a dare. He has that secretive flare on him.

He would rather just watch people have fun first. His observant eyes would watch everyone and everything they do. Then he joins in his own way—in the banters and games. Although, he always holds back, hence the dares. It’s a reward for you to learn his tricks, so you take it up yourself to make him show you. Today, you decided to see him shotgun a beer.

Swiping a beer from the fridge, turning on your phone camera, you march to Quinn who’s just relaxing outside balcony. The moment he catches your arrival; you toss the beer at him. He freezes, barely catching the can. His eyes are wide from surprise.

“Do it,” you demand with a grin.

“Do what?” He tries to act clueless, but you see how his hand goes to his pocket where he keeps his car keys.

“Shotgun it. I dare you.” You smirk at him, using your weapon that he couldn’t resist: your puppy dog eyes.

Not even a sense of turmoil brew in his eyes. He immediately brings out his key, turning the can to the side, punching a hole, and fucking shotgun it with ease.

You aren’t really sure that he can do this, but Quinn is doing it. All you can do is watch with your lips parted, your eyes wide, the camera still fucking rolling. Thank fuck it is.

Quinn looks absolutely hot.

His Adam’s apple bobs for every massive gulp of the beer. His jaw is so sharp as it’s tipped up. His eyes are burning into your soul. The beer—that drips down his lips, down his scruffy chin, down his neck, down his collarbones, down to his white shirt—is so fucking alluring that you had to squeeze your legs together.

There’s no fucking way you just got turned on by that.

Oh, but you are.

When he finishes, he’s the one smirking. He smugly wipes his chin with his sleeve. Still, the trail on his neck remains and it’s making you feral. Why is he so hot? Why.

“Is there anything else that you want me to do?” His deep voice breaks whatever haze you are in.

Ending the video, you huff at him, “I fucking knew it! You were holding back during last week’s boat trip!”

He leans an elbow on the railing. He’s still smirking at you. His eyes travels from your face down to your body—so painstakingly slow like he’s stripping you. One piece of clothing at a time. When his eyes drops to your legs, you are already burning.

You feel hot all over. So much that you have to lean on the glass door for support.

His smirk only grows wider as he lifts his gaze to yours.

“I remember shotgunning two cans with Jack. You just weren’t there, my Love.”

What the fuck. What does he mean he downed not one but two—

“Well, can you do the same? I bet you can’t,” he mocks.

Now, that gets you riled up. Who cares if he looks hot with beer running down his neck. Who cares if he's too fucking hot doing simple things. It's on.

You glare at him, turning back to get more beer to prove him wrong.

-> Next (Part 2: Beers and Kisses)