#my only contribution to this fandom to this day

[gulliblelemon]

Would You Fuck Your Clone?

My day 10 contribution to the 10 days to 1k challenge. (Masterpost). Fandom: Young Royals | Prompt: clones | Rating: T | AO3

Thank you so much @10daysto1k! This event has been so much fun!

-

“Would you fuck your clone?”

There’s a snort from someone and Felice shoves Maddie’s shoulder. “Maddie.” Felice rolls her eyes. “What sort of question is that?”

“A good one when the party’s getting boring. Unless you’d rather play truth or d—”

“No!”

Simon can’t tell how many of them shouted. Maybe all. But definitely him and Wille. Felice too. 

Maddie grins. “Thought so. So. Felice. Would you fuck your clone?”

“I’m not answering that,” Felice says with an air of dignity that’s only slightly spoiled by her wine-drunk slurring. 

“I would,” Maddie says, with no hint of embarrassment whatsoever.

“Really?” Alexander says, fascinated.

“Yeah,” Maddie says, shrugging. “I know my preferences.”

“Yeah but… Surely it’s just better to, you know, do it yourself,” Felice says.

“Well I can’t use my own mouth, can I?”

“Ew, Maddie.” Felice grimaces.

“What?” Maddie grins. “Am I wrong?”

“Wouldn’t it be… weird?” Alexander asks – still intrigued.

“I’ve never actually done it, Alex.”

He grumbles and Maddie snorts. 

“Simon?”

All eyes turn to him, some of them darting to Wille who’s leaning back on his hands, arms stretched behind Simon so that he’s almost embracing him but not quite. Wille shifts slightly.

“Erm… I don’t know,” Simon answers.

“Urgh. You’re all boring. Someone give me an—”

“I would!” It’s Walter, shouting from across the room.

“Really?” Henry whips round to him. “Isn’t that, like, gay?”

A ripple runs through the room, more glances at Simon and Wille. Simon feels a flash of irritation.

Walter just shrugs. “I don’t… think so? Maybe. Does it matter? No one’s actually fucking their clone.”

“Your answer only counts if you would do it, though!” Maddie screeches. Sara flinches away.

“Fine,” Walter says. “Then yes. If my clone walked in now, I’d fuck him. At least he’d be the best looking person in here.”

There’s lots of shouting and jeering. Someone throws an empty cup, missing Walter by a mile but still spraying the rest with dregs of something sticky.

Once everyone’s calmed down again, Felice pipes up. “Okay then. I’m saying now that I wouldn’t. What about you, Sara?”

Sara’s eyes go wide. “Me?”

“Mhm,” says Felice, taking another sip, eyes not straying from Sara. 

Sara’s eyes flit around the room. “Maybe.” Simon can see her blushing and wonders if he should jump in, but then she rolls her lips in. “I think, yes. Probably.”

“Seriously?” Maddie seems genuinely astounded. 

Sara nods. “I think so. Why not? There’d be no one you’d be hurting. It’s technically the same as self-pleasure, I think. And… there’s no risk of you getting it wrong.”

The room goes quiet. Nobody knows where to look. 

After a few seconds, Maddie shouts. “Right! Well! That was… interesting. Wilhelm!”

Wille has been quiet, just a steady, comforting presence beside Simon. He hasn’t drunk anything either, even though he finds parties easier when he’s a bit tipsy.

“No,” Wille says.

“No… what?” Felice asks.

“No. I wouldn’t fuck my clone.” Simon feels Wille’s hand skim up his spine, coming to rest possessively around the back of his neck.

“Urgh,” Maddie groans. “You two are spoiling the game. You’re gross.”

“They’re sweet,” Felice retorts. 

“Not when they’re lovey-doveying up my very serious hypothetical question,” Maddie throws back. “Fine. Henry!”

The conversation continues on, but Simon stops listening, just leaning back into Wille’s warmth.

“Hey,” Wille murmurs in his ear, breath tickling his neck, fingers toying with the hairs at the base of his skull. A shiver runs through Simon. He’ll never get bored of it. “When shall we leave?”

Simon lets out a breath. The earlier they go, the more they’ll get teased, but they’re getting teased anyway. So— “Now?”

Wille presses his smile behind Simon’s ear. “Okay,” he breathes, then he’s gone – standing up and holding out a hand.

There are jeers and catcalls – they don’t mind.

Later, lying in Wille’s tiny Forest Ridge bed – naked and content and so, so happy – Simon feels Wille press a kiss to his chest where he’s resting his head.

“I love you,” Wille murmurs into the skin.

Simon squeezes him a little tighter. “I love you too.”

He loves these moments, just the two of them – no expectations, no responsibilities, just them.

“I never want anyone except you.”

Chuckling, Simon presses a kiss to the top of Wille’s head. At nineteen, maybe they shouldn’t be thinking about forever. But his forever has Wille in it, and he knows Wille feels the same.

“I never want anyone except you either,” Simon replies, voice muffled by Wille’s hair.

Simon can feel Wille tense.

“What’s wrong?” Simon pushes back to look down at Wille.

When Wille looks up, it’s with an unsure expression, biting his lip as he gazes into Simon’s eyes. “Not even your clone?”

It takes a moment for the words to sink in, but then Simon bursts out laughing.

“What?” Wille looks hurt.

“I’m sorry,” Simon wheezes, giggles still bubbling in his chest. “I just— What are you on about?”

“Your clone,” Wille says. “Would you— You said you weren’t sure if…”

“Wille.” Simon shuffles so that he can sit them both up. “Have you been stressing about this all evening?”

“No,” Wille defends. Then: “Maybe.”

Simon grips Wille’s hands in his own. “Wille. It was just a silly conversation. Of course I only want you.”

“But what if—”

“No what if.”

Wille moves his lips from side to side, so Simon lets go of his hands to grip his cheeks, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones.

“Wille. I love you. I love you. No one else will ever come close. So, even if my clone walked through that door right now, why would I ever want anyone but you?”

“You mean it?” Wille says, his voice is shaky and Simon pulls him into a hug.

“I mean it,” Simon murmurs into his ear.

Then, when Wille seems to have relaxed in his embrace, Simon says, “Would you fuck my clone?” and then squeals as Wille tackles him to the bed.

[lovestory]

i haven't really felt like opening tumblr at all this year, but it was obviously very moving when i saw taylor's post about her masters, and i thought of this community immediately. i thought about the day when we found out scooter had bought the masters initially, posting about it, and taylor seeing those posts we made on here. i feel pretty inclined to share this with you: i got a new job, i started last week - and it pays more than double what my last job did. i'm the in house graphic designer for a huge commercial construction company now, they take really good care of me, and i've dropped out of uni because i have found success and love for design again. i didn't even know opportunities like that existed in the small area i live in, and i definitely didn't think they'd choose me.

in january i made the decision to leave tumblr. aside from a general disinterest and struggling massively with my mental and physical health, i was just tired. being treated the way i was online since before i even turned 13 was exhausting. i had people in my inbox when i was a minor sending me sexual messages and begging me to post my prom pictures, people making "gossip" blogs about me, people sending me my address, people sending me three part messages about why they hate me. whenever i'd say i hated this kind of behaviour, people would blame me for not turning my ask box off. last year in particular i'd dealt with a couple of stalking incidents and completely closed myself off from people contacting me on here. but instead of respecting that, i would just have other blogs get anons about me. one day i saw a mutual get a message about me, and half the shit they were saying just wasn't even true, and i'd just fucking had enough. i just wanted to step away and be a fan in a different way for awhile and try to focus on getting better. consume content and think what i thought without people arguing or making vague posts in response.

i moved out of our rental in april. as we were moving out, it led to the discovery that the entire house was infested with black mould that had been painted over/covered up when it was renovated. this mould was making me incredibly sick after living with it for so long, my entire body was covered in hives every day, i couldn't breathe, i couldn't keep my eyes open, i felt awful. our new house is finished being built, they're just doing the landcaping. i can't explain how sick i felt every day, and what a relief it is to not be in that kind of pain anymore, and to not be renting anymore.

i've always felt like i was working harder than everyone else just to compensate for the fact that i'm me. it was so liberating to walk in for an interview and know i had exactly what they needed. it was so liberating to be offered so much money for what i do, no arguments, no telling me that they couldn't afford to pay me decently. i nearly gave up on graphic design, i loved it too much to let it be ruined. i'm not afraid to say that i'm good at what i do anymore, i approach my work with confidence. for six years i've worked as the only employee for two separate businesses, being paid worse than anyone else i know, and i'm so relieved to be working with people again - talking to people my age. the isolation was killing me.

it makes me emotional looking at my blog as an archive now, i am so proud of all the little things i made over the years and what i contributed. being a fan of taylor was my life for so long and the only thing i held onto to keep going, i love the records of hers that i have, i love the memories, i love that she used to see my posts. and i'd be lying if i said what the fandom has turned into hasn't turned me off from participating. i will never return to tumblr in the capacity i once was, but if i ever get a thought or an itch to make something fandom related, i'll post it. i guess it felt important to share how drastically, a lot of you have followed me for over 10 years now. i really had to push myself to bring myself out of where i was stuck, it was really hard. but it's okay now.

[fae-tricks]

isn't that what their whole dynamic is??

inspired by this

[perryelornitorrinco]

;-;

[mukucookies]

I don't play much of the identity V, but dang if I don't love me some murderous science lizards.

[besocrazy]

another vaguely-spicy snippet from a fic that may or may not ever be posted:

“Eddie?” Eddie feels the question at the same time he hears it, the warm puff of air against his neck. Even as groggy as Buck is, there’s a tinge of something like surprise in his voice. Like a part of him thought he might wake up to an empty bed and cold sheets, the same way they’ve both been waking up for months now. Eddie has the sudden urge to turn around, to cup Buck’s face in his hands, to kiss him until he’s breathless. “Sorry, just trying to get comfortable,” he says instead, because even awake, Buck’s grip on him is tight as a vice. His voice comes out rough, sounds like it’s been dragged through gravel. Buck is hard, too. Eddie can feel it against the small of his back. It makes something in his gut burn hot, the way Buck’s hips twitch toward him like he can’t help it, a lazy, sleepy grind. It goes on like that for another minute. Buck mouthing at the shell of his ear. Buck’s fingers toying at the waistband of his pajamas. Buck’s body a searing heat along his back. They’d argued over who got to be the big spoon. Eddie thinks he should have fought harder to preserve his own sanity. “Buck?” There’s no answer. Eddie’s pulse thuds loudly in his ears. He survived Afghanistan. He survived getting shot. He runs into burning buildings every day. Still, he doesn’t think he’ll survive it if Buck actually fell back asleep. He squirms again, and Buck huffs against his ear. “You keep moving,” Buck complains, nothing but bleary-eyed confusion, and Eddie takes a moment to be both frustrated and infuriatingly charmed. “You’re about to lose your big spoon privileges.” “Hm?” “I can feel you.”

[ohnoohdeer]

[seventhdoctor]

Thinking about them again

[gotyouanyway]

been feeling so self conscious lately in really weird ways.. why do i feel silly for not being/only being a beginner visual artist. i mean the answer is bc i wish i could make (fan)art and share it with people and generate peace and love and joy and attention that way but like. insane to feel self conscious about the mere fact of not doing that

[malf-oy]

Could I perhaps interest you in some Drarry Drawn Badly that I drew 12 years ago (2012)?

Is this cheating? Am I too late for the challenge? Was I 12 years too early for the challenge? Am I too unknown in the fandom these days for this to be funny to anyone but me? I don't care, I'm doing it anyways.

Hello fandom, this is what's been going on with me for the past twelve years:

(original post)

[thestarlotus]

Everyone else on the 118 responder team: OH MY GOD OUR PATIENT IS BLEEDING OUT!!!!!!!!! OH MY GOD THERES A METEOR HEADING STRAIGHT TOWARDS US!!!!!!!!!!!!! OH MY GOD SOMEONE JUST BLEW UP THE STATION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OH MY GOD ITS THE FOUR HORSEMEN OF THE APOCALYPSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭!!!!!!!!!!!

Eddie Diaz:

[c-alley]

these will be my only contribution to the Dungeon Meshi fandom

good day

[eevees-hobbies]

My Boyfriend Works at a Butler Cafe - NSFW

Author’s Note: This is in response to the maid cafe requests I’ve gotten. While I don’t think I can add to the body of work that other content creators have already contributed to the fandom, I am dropping this at your feet. It may or may not be inspired by my trip to the Butler Cafe at Anime Expo, hehe.

Content Warning: Fem!Reader x Multiple Characters (Mostly separate). Contains Fluff and Smut (Smut indicated by “after hours” text). P in V. Use of pet names like pretty girl, Daddy, possessiveness in Sakura’s, sex in public, cunnilingus, sharing, mention of a handjob, reserve cowgirl. Tis smut!

Synopsis: Picture a scenario in which Umemiya is concerned about the welfare and sustainability of some of the shops in Makochi, primarily because many of the shops are owned and kept up by some of the more elderly inhabitants. Some stores are dilapidated and at risk of shuttering their doors, which Umemiya sees as a significant loss to the community. After brainstorming potential ways to earn some donations, he has a brilliant idea! It’s a concept that has almost every Bofurin alumni grinding their teeth and shaking their heads in protest. Welcome to the Butler Cafe!

Word Count: 3.2K

Cottage dividers by Saradika. Story and character banners by me.

“I’m so happy to see you, baby!”

If he weren’t volunteering his time to work in the cafe, he would be terminated immediately. As soon as he sees you walk through the door, he shouts your name from across the dining room and beelines straight to you, arms open and with a broad smile on his face. 

The customers he was just serving? Ignored.

He’ll make sure to sit you in his section and pull up a chair to chat with you, which is a significant annoyance to management as Umemiya is a big draw to the cafe. His admirers line up at least an hour before the restaurant opens to see the cutie with the toned biceps serving them strawberry crepes.

Regardless, I hope you’re comfortable with your lover staring into the depths of your eyes—and soul—as you recount your day. 

He’s so incomprehensibly smitten with you that the only thing that he’ll allow to interrupt your verbal reverie is him spoon-feeding you a piece of cake. 

“I’m so glad you came to visit me today! Wait, what do you mean you’re genuinely here to eat lunch?”

Grade: C+

After Hours

“Let me have some of you before my shift, sweetheart. I need you.”

“D-don’t worry about those…let them fall.” Paperwork, pens, and even a stapler aren’t safe from the laws of gravity as Umemiya picks you up and pushes you onto the desk in the back office. He only has so much time before opening the Butler Cafe doors, and he needs to fill your womb to ensure himself a good shift.

Could you imagine a sex-famished Umemiya? It’s a terrifying thought!

You kiss each other hungrily, tongues meeting outside your mouths before you can press your lips together. Your hands are already fussing with his uniform, particularly where his toned chest strains the buttons of his ironed coat.

“If I’m not inside you right now, baby girl-” His sentence is cut off as his mouth latches to the sensitive skin on your throat, suckling and nipping until the spot begins to sting. But if it hurts, you aren’t showing it as your eyes roll back into your skull. 

He’s pressing his body into yours as though he’s attempting to collapse into you. His hands desperately tug at the fabric that covers up his favorite parts of you–your breasts, your stomach, and most importantly, the sweet treat you have between slick-stained thighs.

“Ume, this has to be a quickie!” 

You can feel him grumble against your skin, lips trained into a pout as he grapples with your words, but he knows you’re right. He shifts the seat of your panties to the side and sinks into you, inch by agonizing thick inch. 

And you thought you were ready. You thought the way your cunt was drooling for him just by seeing him in his uniform would mean you were fully prepared to take his girth, but the sheer thickness still has you gasping and gripping his shoulders.

“Shhh, you can take it, pretty girl. You always take me so well. I got ya’”

As he’s pushing into you, his words slur, drunk off your pussy, head swimming with love, lust, and adoration for his sweet girl. There’s no time for preparation; his shift starts soon, and weren’t you just rushing him, anyway?

But for all the stretching you must endure from taking him, Umemiya is still nothing but gentle.

“God, you’re perfect.” His fingers stroke your cheek, and you melt into the familiarity of his soothing touch. “Keep your eyes open for me ok, love? You close them, and we start over.”

Once you collect yourself, walls finally fitting snugly around him like a glove, you bat your eyelashes innocently, brushing your lips against his thumb before sliding it into your mouth. You don’t break eye contact with him as you flirt your tongue against the underside of his thumb, pretending as though you’re sucking on something much bigger and thicker—that of which is already inside of you.

For a brief instant, you see something flash in Umemiya’s eyes, something that you feel sink into your spine and crawl its way up each individual vertebrae with sharpened claws, something that would threaten your health and ability to walk if you were home instead of at the butler cafe. But he begrudgingly sets his desire to defile you to the side and removes his thumb from your mouth, hand moving down and using that same digit to rub at your clit.

“I love it when you help Daddy out like this. Suuuuuuch a good girl.”

The way the desk bangs against the wall and drags across the linoleum floor as he drives his thick cock into your sopping-wet mess makes you consider that you two might be found out before your quickie can conclude. 

Grade: A+

“Stop staring at me like that, and hurry up and order!”

“Ugh!”

Death has never been more welcome as soon as Sakura dons the butler uniform. Even worse is when he peers into the dining room and sees you. 

Why would you do this to him? Why would you show up here? Don’t you have any pity for him, or is this all some sick, twisted fantasy for you? 

He’s spiraling!

Staff must physically grab him and force him onto the cafe floor. 

He’ll approach you, grumbling, and every bit of him the reddest he’s ever been—and is that steam pouring from his ears?

As he mumbles out the delicacy of the day, you have to lean in just to hear what he’s saying.

“S-stop pretending you can’t hear me!”

But best believe that when he sees another butler giving you too much attention for his liking, he’s stepping in and taking care of all his girl's orders.

“Hey, she’s mine.”

“Y-you mean the table, right?”

“She’s mine.”

Oof, he said what he said!

And if Umemiya is popular with the younger crowd, Sakura, to his disdain, is popular with the older ladies. They don’t think he’s particularly cute or lovely to look at; they just enjoy a visit from this loud-mouthed kid telling them to hurry up and order.

They think he’s a hoot and taking method-acting to the extreme.

Aren’t the tsundere types so cute? 

He’s honestly a really bad butler. His inability to be friendly to the customers—except you—and attempts to always switch his shift with someone else does not go unnoticed by management.

Grade: F -

After Hours 

“I kinda like fucking you at work.”

As you gazed down at your plate, an unfinished parfait staring back at you, a simple sentence was all you needed to gulp the rest of the dessert down and follow your butler outside.

“Gonna be good for me and finish that so I can finish you, yeah?”

Um, fuck yeah!

“S-sakura, don’t you have to clock back in?” You mumble into his ear; you know you sound like an absolute mess, your breathing rapid and uneven, with small moans erupting from your throat.

“Fuck this job.” He has your hands pinned above your head; your legs are wrapped around his waist as he fucks you against the alley wall behind the cafe. “I’m exactly where I should be.”

His thrusts forward are hard and urgent, but the retraction of his dick is slow, drawing out the feeling of your satin walls grazing every inch of him. Your slick is staining his bicolored pubic hair as he grinds into you. His fingers dig into your wrists, seemingly in rhythm with each snap of his hips. 

“G-god, Sakura! Maybe I should make you dress up like a butler more often?” 

“P-pervert, you’d like that, huh? You want me to dress up as your fantasy and fuck you in costume?”

He nestles his face into your neck. You sound so good for him, and how could he resist the urge to take you outside and fuck you right here and now with how pretty you look?

You’re intoxicating, you’re perfect, you’re about to make him fucking cum, fuck! He considers pulling out, letting you finish him off with your hand or that cute mouth of yours, but you grip your legs around him in a vice grip.

“H-haru, stay inside, please?”

Oh, god, how could he say no to that? To you? He smashes his lips against yours, moaning loudly in your mouth as his cock twitches, spurts then fountains of his love and devotion for you filling you up to the brim.

His shift at the butler cafe is the last thing on his mind as he wraps his arms around your waist, peppering kisses against your lips and cheeks.

Grade: A+++++++++++++++++++++++

“Hey, you came just to see me, sweet girl? Aw, I’m so lucky.”

Although he technically didn’t have to attend this fundraiser, given his relationship with Bofurin and Makochi, he thought it was a good idea to show up ready to work.

Togame quickly becomes a shift manager. He’s reliable, a natural leader, and every client likes talking to him and even though he doesn’t walk with a sense of urgency, they don’t mind!

When Togame sees you enter the cafe, he’ll shoot you a lazy grin—the kind that makes your heart skip a beat and forces you to long for him even when he’s right there in front of you.

During his lunch breaks, he’ll take you out on the private patio he reserved just for you two and have the butler on duty bring out all the cafe items he knows you’ll like. 

As you speak and enjoy your time together, he’ll grab your hand in his, rough fingers drawing smooth circles around your knuckles, deep-green eyes trained on yours, and occasionally flickering down to look at your lips.

Of course, you want to kiss him, but he’s at work!

Knowing precisely how you are, Togame makes the first move, leaning over and capturing your lips in a kiss that is soft, unabashedly intimate, and that of which touches the furthest and most difficult-to-reach edges of your very soul. He’s breathing life into you, and before you know it, he’s pulling away, smirking, daring you to be the aggressor, and daring you to follow him. And you are, and you do.

Grade: A

After Hours 

“Gonna make you cum before my shift, beautiful. How does that sound? Look at me when I ask you a question.”

Your trembling hand shoots out to grasp the ledge of a nearby shelf in the cafe’s backroom. Togame has your legs draped over his muscular and broad shoulders with your back against the wall in the back office.

Togame loves using your thighs as earmuffs. The harder you squeeze, the more he can tell how good of a job he’s doing. When you squeeze and tremble because he’s sucking on your labia, taking each one into his mouth, sucking, biting, he knows that he’s doing exactly what he needs to get you to absolute euphoria.

“Jo,” you hiss through parted, glossed lips, “They’ll be able to hear us!”

“No, they’ll be able to hear you.”

And he’s right. He snuck you into the back prior to his shift so that he could devour you as though you didn’t pack him a bento box. 

But he’s doing such a good job, licking at your clit until you feel a dull throbbing sensation, making out with your pretty pussy until thick cream coats his lips, and leaving a reflective sheen on his cheeks. 

Unfortunately, the diners aren’t too far away, and you don’t want them to hear every sound Togame is pulling out of you.

And as though he’s intentionally trying to make you louder, he flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue, no longer teasing the nub but making deliberate infinity shapes that make her twitch.

“I’ll stop when you cum in my mouth, baby.”

He wants you to cum? Might as well take him up on the offer. 

You grab loose fistfuls of his hair and start grinding on his face, allowing his nose to rub against your clit as he offers your pretty hole free use of his tongue.

“That’s my girl. You’re such a good listener.”

“Jo, don’t talk with your mouth full.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Grade: A+

“I’m at your beck and call. Whatever you need is yours.”

To no surprise to anyone, Suo is poised and proper enough to make the butler gig look easy. He knows how to carry the trays without spilling a single crumb of food, he knows where to put the silverware when placing them on the table, and he’s certainly never stressed out during a midday rush.

However, his faults lie with you.

When Suo sees you enter the cafe, he becomes apathetic to the other patrons. He still serves them, yes, but his thoughts are obviously elsewhere. His eyes hardly leave you, watching as you bring a fork up to your mouth and it pushes past your plump lips. 

Your tongue darting out to lick the whipped cream from the corner of your mouth has his eyes widening ever so slightly, and the tea kettle he’s pouring tea from shaking just a bit. 

And when he’s able to serve you? He’s never been happier. Sure, you may not have asked for that extra piece of pie, but you’re absolutely going to get it. Can’t possibly drink any more tea? Nonsense. He’s topping you off again.

Anything for you.

Always.

And forever.

Grade: B

After Hours

"Pretty girl needs to cum at least one more time for us. I need you to cum in my friend's mouth before I touch you."

Your pleasure is Suo’s pleasure, so be a good girl and spread your legs for his friends, mkay? Suo’s tongue slides into your mouth as his fingers brush against the strands of your hair that have managed to fall into your face. 

He can’t help but admire you, your beauty, and your fucked out expression as your mouth opens and closes, waves and waves of pleasure rocking you to your core. 

His beautiful girl.

The cafe's shades are drawn closed, and the interior of the restaurant is only illuminated by dim amber lamp lights placed sporadically throughout the medium-sized room. 

Suo cups your chin, his mouth only leaving yours as he tilts your face forward, “Tell Sakura how much you like when he sucks on your clit.”

Sakura grunts from between your thighs. He’s on all fours, face so flush against your cunt that there’s surely no room for him to breathe. But if that’s the case, he isn’t indicating that oxygen is a necessity as he’s dragging his tongue, flattened and broad, against your swollen clit in long licks. 

“That feels really good, Sakura. You’re doing such a great job.” You pause, but Suo’s quick, heated glance in your direction wills you to continue. “You’re doing a great job, and I like when you suck on my clit”

“Good girl. It’s important to thank your butlers. Now be sure to thank Umemiya, too.”

You turn your head to the side, gazing up at Umemiya, who is pulling up his undershirt in clenched fists, exposing his toned stomach and chest, and his pants hanging loosely around his thighs. His pectorals have been a rosy pink all night, the persistent blush only spreading as he lays witness to you and what you’re capable of.

Your hand is wrapped around his cock, fingertips unable to touch each other from the sheer circumference of him, but dammit you’re trying. “Thank you, Umemiya, for letting me jerk you off.”

Suo lets out a quiet hiss, pleased with your obedience. He grips you by the cheeks and leans down, his lips so close to yours, his eye peering into your soul.

“Who do you think should go first? Which butler would you like to request, love?”

You’d smirk if his hand wasn’t forcing your lips into a pout, but your eyebrow twitches, and you get that familiar glint in your eye that Suo loves so much.

“I don’t think anyone has to take turns. Everyone pick a hole.” 

Grade: A+

“P-please tell me how I can help you?”

When you see Nirei in his butler outfit, you swoon. How could someone so innocent and cute look like that? And while he blushes and stutters when taking your order, he’s probably the most impressive butler in the cafe.

He knows the menu like the back of his hand, is always on time, and is willing to stay late if need be.

Unlike the other participants on this list, your presence isn’t enough to shake Nirei, and admittedly, that might hurt a bit, right? In actuality, Nirei does so well because of you.

He knows you’re watching, so he’s careful with every movement and every word he says. He so desperately wants to impress you. So you might not always see it, but he’s watching you out of the corner of his eye, hoping you saw him interact with a client with perfect protocol. 

As you have lunch with your friends and your eyes meet, he’ll shoot you a little wave as he turns his attention back to a customer. Your friends will giggle because how did YOU trap someone so cute, sweet, and innocent?

And you’ll take offense to that because 1) you aren’t a predator who hunts cute little animals–-Bambi is most certainly safe when you’re around and 2) Nirei is anything but innocent.  

Grade: A+

After Hours:

"O-oh god! You’re amazing, so beautiful, please don’t stop! I-I’m gonna..!"

With shaky hands, Nirei hangs onto the plush of your ass–and on for dear life–as you ride him in reverse cowgirl position on the floor of the Butler Cafe. 

“O-oh, my god…” He musters the strength to bring his head up to look at you expertly bouncing on his dick, swallowing him whole like you were made for this.

He doesn’t think he’s going to make it.

“Y/N! P-please slow down!”

You let out a breathless giggle, your nails digging into his thighs for leverage as you sit up straight and roll your hips. “You did so well serving me today, Nirei! I’m just rewarding my butler.”

God and he’d serve you for a lifetime if it meant experiencing this.

“D-do you know what I’m doing right now, baby?”

He lets out a grunt, the only sound he can manage, as the muscles in his calves tighten to the point of almost cramping.

Fuck, why are you so good at this?

You swivel your hips to the left, right, up and down, dragging the head of his cock against your g-spot. “I’m spelling your name.”

S-spelling his-

Oh, fuck.

Nirei bites his lip, eyes rolling into the back of his head as something so inevitable, so ridiculously powerful, hits him like a freight train. A cross between a whimper-whine escapes from parted lips, and it catches you off guard because, if anything, his moan is a clear indication of how much he desires you and how much he’s always wanted you. 

You consider stopping, the rolling of your hips slowing, but the feeling of immense pressure makes you moan. The licking of your lips replaces the cocky grin on your face as you throw your head back.

Because, god, there’s just so much of it! 

You look between your legs as his cum drips from your cunt and onto the cafe floor. His balls still clenching and unclenching as he continues to pour into you. 

“Nirei, there’s so much!”

“Mmmm, h-happy to give you some more?”

Grade: A+

Special thanks to @suosgirl and @hayatoseyepatch for your ideas/contributions. 

[goldenflowers]

okay but. in trey's dream, leona says he feels sorry for riddle because his two underlings are both dreaming of changing who the boss is. and then idia agrees and says that people like cater and trey are scary because they smile and hide their true feelings while secretly being dissatisfied with riddle and wishing someone else was the dorm leader. and i'm guessing, as i haven't ventured into the tags yet, that while i waited to be able to watch an english translation the rest of the fandom spent the last few days taking leona and idia's words at face value and hating on trey and having discourse over this!

but my first thought? was that those two couldn't be more wrong, and that cater and trey were subconsciously being so kind to riddle. seriously. they can't imagine the trauma his mother caused him being entirely gone, that's just too far off from reality and what they know, but they can imagine it being softened a little. they can imagine him being allowed to start healing instead of spending his first year at school getting worse and worse. they can dream of a world where riddle doesn't have the stressful responsibility of being dorm leader, a responsibility that contributed to keeping him under his mother's thumb by allowing him to tyrannize the dorm and force his obsession with rules on everyone else. cater dreamt that he was dorm leader and riddle was not only a normal card soldier, but a DJ for cater's parties, and having a fun time! trey dreamt that chenya not only went to NRC with them but became the dorm leader--that the happy trio of their childhood was reunited and riddle would be known as a great student who others could always ask for help, who lets himself feel free to eat what he wants instead of continuing to follow his mother's rules. both cater and trey's perfect dream worlds took away riddle's role as dorm leader, something that for his whole first year at NRC had served to prolong his trauma, and replaced it with him remaining a normal student so heartslabyul could be a safe place where he was free from his mother's influence instead. that's just so sweet it makes me want to cry.

[painless-innit-colourful]

now one of the contributing factors to the fact I can't wrap my head around the new, peaceful cclingy ending is that the fandom is so different now that it was then. there's so many fewer of us and naturally that just means that posts circulated for less time, less was made of it because there weren't as many voices repeating it over and over like there was with anything that happened back in the day.

but I think the main reason is that, somewhere deep down, I expected the nuke ending. I expected the desolation. I didn't expect the soft, good ending.

because, in the end, s1 was only ending in one place: november 16th. the pogtopia arc centred around this 'will he won't he' struggle that we were all waiting to see fulfilled, even if only to satiate that sense of curiosity, to see what had been teased to us for so long. it set a trend of shock and angst: the bigger the spectacle (explosion), the better, the more people will want to see the destruction. cool lines, dramatic sacrifices, big moments. those made the animatics. those made it trend on twitter week after week.

when the nuke fell, I accepted it almost instantly. because at least it made sense. this wasn't the blinding tonal confusion of utah, this had been established in the dsmp tone book. a big explosion, angst and self-sacrifice and a firery finale. the wins - first disc war, final disc war, etc - were exceptions to the rule, which was heaps upon heaps of suffering and angst. "the good guys die and the bad guys win," to quote my chemical romance.

but two years later, thanks to jack manifold losing a dare (of all hilariously appropriate things), a much quieter, much softer ending. no dramatic lines: typed remarks in chat replacing the feats of acting we'd seen prior. no spectacle, no explosions; just two people drawing some things to a close, completely unannounced on a sunday night. and I keep forgetting it happened because it doesn't feel like it was supposed to.

and that's not a criticism of it or its execution. one of the strengths of the dream smp was its wild format and how it pushed the boundaries of how to tell a story. sometimes it really worked, sometimes it failed, but I'm glad it always pushed the boat out. and in one of its final outings, it flipped the script one last time. no more showmanship. no more spectacle. here's two characters telling you an alternate story. where the heroes can finally rest. where the bad guys' names fade into obscurity. they're "getting better".

one day, I will get it through my head.

[almostempty]

making this community inhospitable to racists does not mean posting another quarterly “fuck off racists” tag pls take a breath slow down and be serious for a minute instead of doing the circle jerk of performative outrage

If you have to clarify on your blog that you don’t want racists reading your fics think long and hard about that. Is that bumper sticker activism statement the ONLY thing alerting them that they’re unwelcome? Do you think they feel represented or find your blog relatable without that statement attached? It’s not about if you think you’re a good person or not

we’ve got an echo chamber of hypersensitive white women upholding the racist, colonial, patriarchal standard in their fics, in their art, in their reblogs, in their actions behaviors and the circles they cling to and strategically try to profit off of (in the form of attention bc literally what else are you getting from this???)

Who do you think is benefiting at the end of the day from the idolized trope of the small fragile quiet white coded female reader x hyper sexualized Latino ?

(Spoiler the answer isn’t even white women …it’s white men; they’re still the ones on top at the intersection of racism, imperialism, capitalism, and patriarchy.. don’t play yourself, they (systemically) want you to eat that shit up so they can keep their power)

instead of telling racists to get off your blog, stop catering to narratives that are designed to make white women feel comfy and special EVEN IF THAT MAKES YOU FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE

if it makes it hard for you to enjoy the fandom when you actively choose not to read those fics or engage with content that perpetuates the same stereotypes and you suddenly feel starved for content that’s the point, don’t let it go over your head

making the space inhospitable to racists means doing everything with intention so they CANNOT see themselves in the fics you write AND reblog, in the art, in the tags, or as your friend

the loud hate coming from anons is NOT going to be swayed by these posts

but you can change YOUR behavior to lessen the constant barrage of microaggressions our bipoc peers get pelted with when they open this app by not contributing or promoting more of the same

It’s like the same way ‘boundaries’ have been misconstrued from therapy speak, like you don’t set boundaries by telling someone else what they can’t do ..you set boundaries through YOUR actions.

Yell that you hate racism all day I guess, but if you’re gonna keep sharing work filled with racial stereotypes and hegemonic colonial masculinity disguised as kink, or putting white women on a pedestal then you’re still providing space for racists to feel cozy and justified and I’m so serious about that

Here have more to read:

What Fandom Racism Looks Like: Racist Fanworks, Done Out of Spite

What if we improved fandom somewhat?

From the second link:

If these posts annoy you say it out loud so *I* can remove *you* from my blog bc i don’t expect y’all to leave on your own bc that would require self-awareness