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cosmicstarlatte · 1 year

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Flirting With Others (Obey Me!)

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You and your favorite demon have a "will-they won't-they" thing going on and you got tired of it. You and another demon student flirt around. Your favorite demon sees this. How does he react?

»Characters: Demon Bros, Diavolo, Barbatos

»Tags: ⚠️ (for themes) *Self indulgent tbh, Possessive, Jealousy, Yandere for some, Toxic, GN Reader, Diavolo my beloved, swooning over beel

»Note: How did I forget this in my notes!? AAAAAAA♡♡♡

Lucifer:

He was on the way to his student office when he saw you two

Why are you smiling at them like that?

His eyes widened when he saw the other demon lightly touch your shoulder

He's not irritated, nope not at all

He takes it out on everyone for the rest of the day

Barely speaks to you for days

Why would you have eyes for someone else when he's more than available?

Saw you with that lowly demon again in the hallway and he just wasn't having it anymore

He called you to him

"We are going on a date tonight at 7. Be ready. Don't make me wait."

You seemed confused but very excited

He was too and just smirked at the angry demon behind you

Mammon:

Was waiting outside for you to go home together and he saw you from the distance with the demon

What's the human doing blushing like that?

Not one to ignore situations like that

Gets closer to investigate

Did...did that demon just touch their arm?

Seriously, why are you acting all happy and giggly with them?

He can't bare to watch...it....it kind of hurts

Before he knows it he's getting in between you two

"What? You wanna be food or somethin'? C'mon." He growls and drags you away angrily

The other demon tried to protest but Mammon slid into demon form in an instant so they backed off

He held your hand all the way home but he was silent until you got to the door

"Don't ever do that again...ya hear me? You're definitely mine, got it?"

Levi:

Couldn't wait to show you his new video of funny anime clips he made

He made sure to include some of your favorites, he knew you'd love it!

He went looking for you around lunch

Who is that demon...why are they so close to you?

They're getting too cozy...

He saw the demon wrap their arm around your waist while you laughed

TOO COZY

Before he knew it he slipped into his demon form and went yelling at the two of you

He grabbed you and dragged you away yelling about normies and his time

The other demon barely had time to say anything since Levi shot them a death glare

He kept mumbling angrily and finally stopped when you two were away from everyone

"You can't do things like that! I won't allow it! You're my player two, okay!? And...and tonight is date night!"

Satan:

Went to go meet you at the library

Noticed you were talking to a demon he was seeing around more often

Decided to spy just a little...was curious is all

Went from chill to "chill 🙂" when he saw the other demon kiss your hand

He rushed over and cleared his throat and offered a not so friendly hello

The demon didn't leave...great

When you went to the restroom Satan threatened them

"If you know what's good for you, I suggest you stay away."

Don't catch his paws

The demon had heard stories about Satan's wrath so they complied

He explained to you the other demon had things to do

"Hey while I have you here...would you like to go on a date this weekend?"

Asmo:

Was on his way to class but got nosy when he saw you were with someone that wasn't his brothers

He stayed back to check if you were safe

A small flame erupted when he saw the other demon lightly brush your hair with their finger

Ha! As if he could ever be jealous of someone like them!

But they were getting all your attention...

Sauntered over and introduced himself

He suggested the other demon leave since they would never be good enough for you

You seemed embarrassed but also delighted by the turn of events

"Sorry it took long...will you go on a date with me♡?"

He can't have anyone scoop up what's his 💅

Beel:

Went to look for you after school

Saw you with another demon in an empty classroom

Saw the demon take both your hands

You were blushing and they were giving you a flirty smile

Before Beel knew it he was in front of you both and took the other demons hands off you, who protested

Beel bared his fangs and they backed off

"Lets go." Beel pulled you away angrily and carried you home

Why did he do that?

Was nervous/upset when he thought about you meeting with that demon so he was clingy for a few days

He froze when he saw the demon hanging around you again

pout

He put two and two together and realized he was jealous

He asked you out in front of the other demon and admitted he didn't want to see you with anyone else

Belphie:

Thought he was having a nightmare when he saw you and another demon flirting in class

What do you mean this isn't a dream

Belphie.exe has stopped working

Murder.

Murder on his mind.

You will be his. You are his.

He silently made his way towards you both and faced the other demon

punch

"Dont think you can get in my way." He warned the unconscious body

You seemed upset yet moved by his action

He grabbed your hand tightly and muttered about annoyances

"You're mine, no question. Everyone will know this now."

Diavolo:

He eagerly seeked you out after classes ended and came upon a crushing sight

You were laughing in the arms of another demon in the empty hallway

He must behave professionally

He must behave

He must-

"Who's this nuisance my little lamb? 🙂"

Oh shit was he in demon form too?

Why do you make him so weak?

He was pleased to see the other demon cower and excuse themselves quickly

The black aura probably helped warn them of the danger too

He apologized for his appearance but remained truthful with you

"Forgive me, I should've said this long ago. You are mine, let me be clear about that now."

He carried you home and from then on, everyone knew you two were officially dating

Barbatos:

Was on his way to Diavolo's office when he saw you and a demon skipping class and looking friendly...

Surely not you? No, not at all-

Not a fan of this new development but chose to ignore it, he had bigger things to focus on after all

Tried to continue to Diavolo's office unnoticed

It wasn't until he saw the demon wrapping their arm around you that he really snapped and walked over

"Ahem. Excuse me to interrupt..."

Pulled you away to the nearest empty classroom

Pushed you against the wall, his gloved hand held your face gently

"I apologize for not making my intentions clear before. We are together, starting now. I did not like what I witnessed and know that won't happen again."

⬦You might also like: Manhandling Them

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me yandere #obey me reader #obey me shall we date #◇˖・ﾟ— › cosmic obey me . ⊹

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themotherofblood · 6 days

Note

Ruie, my dear, I was re-reading "The Dragon and The Dancer" and if you are still writing/accepting requests can I get a prequel(before the events of "laut ke ajana") where she dances for Daemon (with some nsfw) please?

ugh first of all, I hope your pillow is always cold, your charger cords never break and may you find money on the streets just for funsises.

second of all!!! Saaiyan Hatto Jao would be such a fitting song, of Dancer seducing Daemon so let’s go!

Daemon Targaryen x Martell!Wife!Reader

tw: exhibitionism? kinda misogynistic but bare with me pls 🤭 clit play, fivesome(kinda), breeding kink, humiliation, oral m and f receiving. mf(fff), mentions of underage stuff ekkk

main masterlist

In whatever capacity Daemon had within himself to restrain himself from his pretty wife was surely a bravery the Maesters ought to write in books. He had graced the courts of Lys multiple, multiple times. That's where he’d found Mysaria all those years ago. She was a whore, and dancer but a whore. He visited the city twice in his youth, in all his glory mounted open the ominous visage that was Caraxes yet not once was he esteemed enough to watch the infamous courtesans of Lys. Those women, wretched but entrancing women who invited the ones their hearts pleased, unlike any other establishment that would let in anyone with a coin to throw.

Imagine his surprise when an enticing swan from that very establishment had been under his nose this entire time, part of him cursed himself for not seeing it earlier. Something of such enchanting breeding couldn’t have simply come from the loins of Qoren Martell, and knowing your parentage was from Lys. If you weren’t already an insatiable spirit, Daemon pawed at your skirts even more now. He knew that the matter of you dancing was rather sensitive since your mother’s passing and he would never impose himself onto you otherwise.

Yet it couldn’t help taunt the perverse within him, such was the beauty of the Lysenees courtesans. To entice a man wild with just the melody of their voices and the ancient craft of their dance. Many a man with pockets deep enough to raise kingdoms lost their prospects at the doorsills of these bewitching girls.

You spoke of it at length with him once, sat in a warm bath overlooking the sunset, how esteemed of a pupil you were and come of age, your introductory performance had carriages lined for ten streets. Should the time have come, you might have even become the Madam of the establishment with age. The more you excelled in your art the more you feared of never leaving that place like your mother had wished for you. You not once loathed dancing, you hated the politics— you hated how wars began at the backs of courtesans partaking in spying against the very lords they once served to backstab and plot away at every chance they got for their survival. You rather missed the morning singing lessons and the sounds of your sister's anklets running up and down the halls.

“You keep such things from me,” Daemon muttered against your bare shoulder, peppering kisses up to your “You sing?”

You nodded, lifting your head to look at him with a sheepish smile.

It wouldn’t take a lunatic to envision your sweet voice singing away… singing just for him. He tried, he tried so very hard to not let his twitch cock at the thought of it, he was sure you felt it.

“What am I to do with you.” He groaned.

For a wish he had dreamt of since he was near seven and ten, no amount of gold named to the second Targaryen prince would get him inside that establishment, not after he had claimed Caraxes— a magnanimous beast that could burn all those witches in there all at once and not even after aiding the Free Cities with its odd brawls with one another.

And here the damned gods had blessed him with his wish, perched upon his lap. Eager to please him, vowed to obey and be with him till death do them part. Curious how the world worked.

You were no fool, like an animal in rut you had felt Daemon’s demeanour change since the day he discovered you were an untouched courtesan and caught you dancing in the Mirrored Palace alone. You were no stranger to the allure and aura that followed from being who you were, or who your performative personality is.

There is no harm done you thought, you had no joy in dancing for the men at court yet the sound of perhaps performing— truly performing for your lord husband seemed titillating.

It was the conditioning perhaps, to have a noble lord claim a courtesan all to himself, it showed one of two things. A lord with immensely fat pockets or a woman worth nearly a kingdom and its cavalry.

What were you worth? A fucking dragon-lord, a kingdom can’t be worth much if it’s ash. With your children most likely inheriting dragons too, you would by comparison must have outshone all your sisters back in Lys. Such fortune all for a pretty song and the swaying of one’s hips.

When Daemon had told you about is escapades in Essos, especially of how many times the poor prince had tried to gain an audience at your former court. You internally giggled at the picture of a young Daemon clamouring like the rest with gifts and praises to win the attention of your house Madam at the time. Even when he returned with a dragon he was barred, and it wasn’t unusual. Your Madam enjoyed playing with fire, toying with how far she could push men just to catch a glimpse of one of her girls.

Come to think of it, she might have been trying to grasp for an invitation to the Old King’s court, set up an establishment in King’s Landing. But one thing you’d learned from the stories Daemon told you about King’s Landing. Much of the courtesan's work would be polluted by the lack of affection for its craft.

You couldn't deprive him so, not when he paid you handsomely, ravishing your body each night like a silent prayer. Even having seen you, felt you and taught you things that would go beyond the means of a courtesan’s work. You saw the passion in his eyes when he’d find you fixing your ghungroos or humming under your breath as you worked on your needlepoint. The tests of a true Madam now laid at your feet, not only to devise an elaborate function for your dear husband but to be discreet and the most essential part of it all, for you to be perfection.

You’d pick the night of the coming full moon, you knew your father would have grumbled himself to his chambers rather early, the change in tides somehow always made him ill. Your sisters would all be abed, Daemon’s daughter’s too. The commendable part were your lady’s maids, pussyfooting away orders of flowers from Pentos, the special vials of rose oil from Qarth, at least a hundred candles to light up the arched viewpoint at the Watergardens. Daemon’s favourite foods to be prepared along with fine strong wines from the Old Palace cellars.

The intricacies of this function had been handled with such care and secrecy, that it made you consider moving into the manse your father had gifted you after your wedding for some privacy. Surely, a married— happily married couple engaging in salacious acts with one another shouldn't be unexpected. Lastly your lehenga, unlike the ones you usually wear, was truly a magnificent piece made by the dressmaker. A black velvet blouse with a dangerously low neckline and shoulder embroidered with dragons of red and gold threads, a lighter skirt of silk with heavy gold embroidery and embellishments and a chiffon embellished shawl that did nothing to hide your figure.

Another ruse was set up to hide your true schemes, a quaint supper with just you and Daemon being entertained by folk singers sent by Yi Ti.

The evening had been rather splendid, Daemon had no interest in listening to some fucks sing about in a tongue he understood not, but when his sweet wife insisted upon spending the evening together: he couldn't deny you.

He suspected that you were up to something, with supper being prepared, dishes lined up one after the other which were all those he shamelessly indulged in, the rather aged wine that you had been consuming a little too much of. He did not mind, either way, fucking his wife tonight sober or a sweet slobber mess— all was well in the world. After what seemed like a while, Daemon finally felt at ease, calm with a purpose that he belonged, with his daughters and you.

“Excuse me, dearest.” you whispered against his ear, smiling before pecking his cheek “I’ll be back.”

Daemon smiled back, watching you rise from the floored cushions that the both of you nested on, his eyes very shamelessly admiring your backside and the curves of your hips as you walked back into your quarters. He marvelled at the thought of ripping that very lovely maroon gown of your body. The colour change had been a sudden shock to him when you fluttered your way into the sparring wards in a Dornish gown painted in the dark crimson of his house’s colour. Rest assured the sparring continued later in the evening and the gown alas did not survive.

You had slipped out easily, just as the doors closed behind you, the lot of you bolted the opposite direction to your privy and down the hallways, skirts hiked up as you used your other hand to free your hair of the loose Westerosi braids they were in. Your maids ran with you, two of them already waiting by the Watergardens along with the the whore dancers you had acquired all outfitted in white and the esteemed musicians that played at every one of your events.

Hiding behind the thick shrubbery, your maids hastily stripped you off your gown and small clothes and replaced them with the ensemble made for tonight. You prayed to the gods while calming your breath from all that running, let it be perfect. The four girls would greet Daemon upon his arrival, even though they would be a finer treat than most men have had in this lifetime, you were another anthology entirely.

Daemon had been given his first clue after the Yi Ti performers had finally ended their never-ending song.

“The princess awaits you in the Watergardens, my prince.” the attendant had informed before scurrying away.

Whatever this was, Daemon was truly intrigued seemingly obeying his wife and heading straight out of the gardens without any delay. The show that greeted him there however had him taken aback for a moment, the garden pillars decorated in blossoms and twinkling candles scattered across the stairs leading to the arches. He could hear the mellow music and the serene sound of flute dancing along with the crashing waves.

Just like a dream come true, he was greeted by the sound of ghungroos— a sound he had grown accustomed to. Four girls rushed towards him, lifting their hands to their faces and bowing.

“Good evening, my prince.” one of them spoke.

“We have longed for your arrival, your grace.” said the other. Reaching forward for Daemon’s hand.

At any other time he might have pulled away, but this was surely orchestrated by his wayward wife. He could feel her around but couldn't see, and these girls— preening up at him like willing, wanting whores, they were no courtesans. He played along, letting them drag him along to the shore view where an elaborate arrangement awaited him. An old fire in him arose when his reputation had been so palpable at the many brothels across the Known World. Two of them pushed him onto the plush sete, giggling as one of them plops right next to him.

“Would you like some refreshments, my prince.” One of them said with a bunch of grapes in her hand, the other poured him a glass of wine. The third took her time feeling Daemon up, he thoroughly enjoyed this but longed for his wife— his courtesan. One of them began to unbutton the tops of his doublet, soft fingers trailing across his chest.

His sexual frustrations and anticipation began to pivot to a perverse ire, to find you hiding somewhere and reprimand you with your arse red for teasing him so.

That is when the sound of a heavier set of ghungroos echoed around the arches, there you were. Your glowing face against the moonlit sky and candles, you walked towards, body covered in a thick black shawl. The girls around him lifted their skirts and ran towards you, positioning themselves. Then came the music, a smirk so prominent settled itself on Daemon’s lips as his lifelong dream had now stood in fruition before him.

You seductively, inch by inch let the black shawl drop until it fell to the ground, looking at the shawl and suggestively looking up at your husband. You twirled thrice forward, ending right by Daemon’s legs and lowered yourself. He knew not of what you sang but it was as though a witch chanted spells to bind him to you.

The song you sang was one of innocence, a sweet girl begging her lover to let her return home— for the higher the moon rose in the sky her reputation hung by a thread. Ever so seductively telling him to stay away because she knew his true desires were so very impure.

Stay away my love, I know what you desire

You reached for the rose tucked in your blouse, reaching lower to gesture at your ghungroos, giving Daemona a rather exposed view of your bosom. You acted as if his looking had offended you and flicked the rose at him, you stood to continue your routine still singing without a note or beat missed. You knew within that you were perfection, it is what you were trained for from birth. This one performance should have costed half of Pentos, but look upon Daemon’s eyes was payment enough for you.

Night fades to dawn my love, please let me go home

You pulled your shawl of your head and down you your shoulder, toying with it around your cleavage. Eyebrows suggestively scrunched at Daemon, making him kiss the rose you gave him and throw it back at you which you caught with ease, letting the petal graze upon your cheek and then your lips lowering it further down the sides of your torso and tucking it this time at the lining of your skirt. You turn your back towards him swaying you hips as you walked away, turning once to wink at him and continuing to walk until the hardest part of the number began.

The percussion beats could never be missed by your feet, in a performative haze you smiled at the three dancers who also did an extraordinary job at keeping up with you. You turned one last time.

My mother and sister by law shall poke, where had I been, my love. I will die of embarrassment

You walked towards him this time, an exaggerated sway in your hip as you pulled your shawl out from your skirt lining and let it fall to the floor, you turned once more, performatively reaching for the back strings of your blouse and pulling them to mimic a sensual morning stretch. You turned towards your husband who had settled himself further into the cushion.

You kept singing as he reached his hand out, you took it letting him pull you onto his lap. Your soft finger held his face as you kept singing, leading his face towards your neck and he wasted no time in peppering kisses down your collarbone. You pushed him back there after which startled him, you could feel the hardened mound under his breeches— your payment.

Stay away my love, I know of what you desire.

Daemon had enough, still letting you finish your song, your eyes and eyebrows still expressing away your performative feelings as he reached for your Nath and removed it, a significant indication of deflowering a young courtesan.

Your song ended as you sat straddled upon Daemon’s lap, you gaze never left his— like you were another person entirely. Daemon relished in how he intimidated you, how shy and small you were around him, how receptive but innocent you remained even when he taught you to pleasure him and yourself in bed. Yet this woman sat atop him, you were someone else.

“Was it everything you ever dreamed of, my prince.” Your whispered, your hands caressing his face.

Daemon for a moment couldn’t find his words, that’s when you snapped from your performance growing anxious from the silence. You were about to pull away when Daemon abruptly spun you down onto the cushion so he lay towering over you, caging you under his broad build.

“How am I to pay you, my lady,” he said, wanting to rip the clothing off your body but he looked behind to still see the four girls standing.

“They are yours tonight my prince,” you nervously, your aura slipping back to the former “As am I.”

At that Daemon held no restraint and laid siege upon your body, he figured the lasses could still dance as Daemon would take you apart under the moonlit sky.

You held nothing back, arching your back onto the onslaught of Daemon’s lips. Letting your fingers feel the remaining buttons of his doublet and pushing them off his shoulder. This time you pushed back, the heat on your cheeks so apparent for you’d never thought to be so forthcoming in bed before, Daemon always held the reins, placing you in positions he liked, teaching you ways to pleasure yourself.

Daemon grunted for a moment, fighting against the push of your hands before giving in, letting you lay him back down once more. You straddled him once more, this time slipping back into the seductive performance you’d laid out for him. Smiling down at him as you slipped your blouse off, slowly— inch by inch before dropping it next to you.

Daemon’s lips parted in a gasp, though his cockiness would credit his lessons for confidence in this matter. He was further crazed by how much you appeared to be enjoying doing this. He couldn't help himself, reaching up to tweak at your left nipple. You began to roll your hips against the hardening of his breeches, your bare cunt under your skirt pressed at the girth giving you just a small burst of pleasure.

You did Daemon of his tunic, your fingers tracing his battle scars as you reached lower, letting your lips press against his warm skin— letting yourself inch lower and lower as you shuffled off him.

You both yearned greatly for one another, nearly four moons into your marriage and the passions you shared for one another only seemed to reach further heights with each passing day. A fire that Daemon had lit within you burned so bright for him every day. One might think you were born to be with him, obey him.

Daemon watched as you undid his pants, pulling them down his legs and not once leaving his eyes, you were an ethereal sight, bare-chested with his gifted jewels shining at your neck— so prepared to service him. You reached for his cock and that's when he stopped you.

His hands trailed to your head of wild hair, gently tugging at it. “You want my cock?” he said. Eyes wild and waiting for your response.

You meekly nodded, sticking your tongue out just as he taught you to. Wasting no time further he pushes your mouth onto his cock, letting your head bob and suction at his length. You worked your tongue around his cock, the taste of him so familiar in your mouth. You whimper as he pushes in further breaching the back of your mouth and making your eyes water.

“Who would have thought it hmm, the finest girl Lys could offer kneeled like a whore for me” his words falsely degrading you sending shockwaves straight to you your core.

You whimper, this time willingly taking him deeper feeling your throat want to constrict as you pull up for air— he however stops you briefly before giving you relief. A string of salvia lingering on your lips. He wiped at the tears polling around the corner of your eyes.

“Take the rest of it off girl,” he demanded, eyes ravenous and impatient.

You gathered your bearing before standing once more, pulling at the waist string of your skirts with no haste to tease him yet again. You let your skirt fall as you caught onto the rose still tucked at your waistline. You kissed it and threw it at him. Every look, every action towards you seemed to have been pooling your cunt wet.

Daemon grunted, yanking you back onto him. His lips smacked against yours once more as he took a harsh hold of your tit with one hand while the other held you here. His actions were voracious, seducing your soul rather than your body.

You took matters into your own hands, unable to keep up with this game any longer and reached for his cock— gently rubbing the tip at you folds before lowering yourself onto him.

Daemon groaned into your mouth as you gasped, having never felt him so deep, you held onto his shoulder fingernails digging in.

“You're so deep,” you whispered, your breath hitching as you adjusted to the intrusion.

His fingers dug into the flesh of your arse pulling you further down and full of him. You felt so close, so one with him. You began to grind your hip, your neck cranked as Daemon’s head dipped lower to kiss your shoulders and up your neck.

“Such a fine prize aren't you, tell me how do I pay you?” he said bucking his hips up into you making you sqwak.

“D-dragonseed… I want your babes.” you whispered, head hanging in a wanting shame.

Daemon smirked, he had forever hoped to make you swell of his children but he never knew your sweet mind craved to be bred.

“Go on then, take what you want.” he rested back on to his elbows, bucking his hips once more to coerce you to keep going.

You rested a hand on his torso using it as leverage to lift your hips to bounce into his cock. Your snug cunt milking him to fill you. Your smaller legs weren't enough to lift you that far off his cock, but you tried nonetheless. Daemon reached for your cunny, his thumb began to rub circles onto your clit sending you into a frenzy— riding him with far more determination.

It felt good, so very good.

“How does it feel darling? How does it feel riding a dragon.”

You let out a strained giggle at that, still unable to help your childish mind. You kept riding him, Daemon’s lips restraining a smile too at your ill-timed humour. Earning you a sharp smack on your left tit.

“It feels so good, so deep.”

Your hips found a steady rhythm against Daemon’s fingers at your bundle of nerves. Your each bounce ore eager than the one before. Your tits bobbing and calling for equal attention from Daemon.

“My prince!”

You moaned, feeling that pinnacle ever so close as you chased it.

“I’m all yours,” you said unprovoked “a courtesan trained just for you.”

Daemon nearly lost his bearings at that, pinching your nipple harder. Seven Hells— he knew you were made just for him.

“Say it again.”

“I was born to be your c- courtesan.” you cried, feeling so very close to completion.

Your thighs begin to shudder, he can feel them clenching— he lets go of your breast and grabs your hips in aid to feel you gush around him. A sudden pitched cry leaves your mouth as you tremble your bouncing coming to a halt as you fight to hold yourself up but Daemon’s fingers on your bundle of nerves don't stop.

He abruptly flips you over, readjusting you within a blink of an eye. Your bare body facing the dancers as Daemon’s solid wet-length rested on the curve of your ass.

“We could get your money’s worth,” he suggested nipping at your ear lobe, his demeanour shifted to the one of you loving husband. “We needn't—”

“I trust you.” you looked up at him, chest still heaving from your peak before and yet you always wanted more of him, more of his depravities.

So many fantasies, much to do.

He gestured them forward knowing they would take much time to shed their clothes, they were whores trained to dance.

All three of of them vulgarly bowed, giggling amongst themselves.

“My prince.” The chorus of their voice followed as they began their performance to reach for him.

He tutted— he’d die happy if he died tonight.

“Not me, her.” He ordered.

You looked back up at him, a curious flare in your eyes that was met with his top protruding at your sloppy opening once more.

The girls entirely shifted their attention onto you.

“Mhmm you have such lovely tits princess.”

“Such soft skin.”

“Such a fine figure, your grace.”

Daemon pushed into you once more, groaning and resting his head onto your shoulder. His palm curled around you neck pulling your back against his shoulder. He knew of the explosive pleasure you were about to discover, even more joy was that he would be the one giving it to you, a fine reward for my girl, the fruits of the lovely exhibition you'd put on for him.

He began fucking into you, small grunts and exhales lingered by your ear and what followed from there on had your mind scattered.

One whore settled on suckling your nipples, twisting and toying with the other. One muffled your moans with her lips upon yours. Your cunny was already sensitive but then you felt a sensation you never had before. The third girl kneeled by the nest and began to lick your bud.

“D— Daemon!”

The sensation so overwhelming you began to pull away, Daemon curled other arm firm around your torso to keep you in place as he continued rut into you.

“Feels good doesn’t it, my love?”

You could barely speak but you nodded, eyes shut feeling yourself so lost in every touch. One of the whores disappeared behind you, settling herself under Daemon to service his heavy stones.

He watched as the whores played with your tits, he too reach further up to tweak a pebble harshly between his fingers. You gasped at the burn of pain. The whore sucking at your teat came to your defence.

“Gentle my prince, breaking a thing so pretty isn’t fair”

“Not this one, her cunt is squelching around me.” he groans.

“Its true!” the girl by your cunt giggles.

Your cheeks burned in shame, they spoke of you like you weren't around. The whore licking your bud pushed at your folds to leave it exposed as she suckled and licked and rubbed away. Daemon’s cock fucked you raw from within and you felt it once more, hurtling towards.

“Go on, wet my cock my love.” he grunted fucking you harder.

His peak chased after as you broke first, gushing around his cock as you screamed his name. Legs and arms shuddering as Daemon grunted to completion himself, ropes of his spent coated your walls. You could feel the warmth within, nearly forfeited by your sensations. He held your body so close, recovering himself as he shooed the whores away.

Letting you collapse in the nest first and then himself. Laying soft kisses at your shoulder, still firmly holding your hand to ground you.

“Well done, my love.”

You lazily smiled at him, dazed in euphoria as you rubbed your feet against his calves.

“What have I done for fortune.” He whispered against your temple.

You shrugged at him, leaning forward to kiss him once more. “I hope you are pleased with my performance?”

Daemon shook his head, begging mesmerized by you. He let his hand rest at your belly.

“If giving you all this love,” he kissed your cheek. “My dragonseed,” he pressed onto you belly. “Isn’t indication of how very pleased I am sweet girl.”

Then you heard a high pitched squeal from the skies, clicks and then the rustle of trees around you. “Then perhaps I should show you what being a dragon feels like.”

Caraxes burst through the horizon behind your circling the skies as he lowered himself onto the white beach. You looked at Daemon puzzled, as he pulled you up to dress you.

“What are you doing?” You huffed putting your blouse back on.

“You want to have my children, it might be time that you grew accustomed to Caraxes.”

You kept dressing yourself to mask the fear that was coursing through your veins. I dance for him and he plans to kill me. You could barely muster the courage to be even ten feet around Moondancer and that beast was a babe. Caraxes is a behemoth, he protects your husband— he told you how the two of them were two halves of whole. It never made sense to you.

“Don’t be scared, halves of a whole remember?” he said as he bent down to lift you up by you back and legs once you finished dressing.

You’d rid yourself of your ghungroos just to not startle the beast.

“I love you, care for you. Therefore he does too.”

You weren’t sure about how sure he was about said theory. Yet you let him carry you to the beaches below where Caraxes sat waiting, when you saw him it almost appeared as though he was playing with sand. Shaking his snout it the sand to bury it and then exhaling to have sand fly everywhere, followed by loud clicks.

“Is he— is he playing?” You asked your husband.

“Told you, he’s harmless.”

That beast also burned dozens of Dornish men but alright.

Just as Caraxes felt Daemon’s presence he chirped up even more, his long neck swaying in the wind. However it only took a moment for his demeanour to flip when he realized there was another. You froze in Daemon’s arms at the low grumble Caraxes let out.

“Dohaeras Caraxes!” Daemon lowly warned the beast.

Caraxes still look unsure but Daemon kept walking.

He put you down a few feet from the beast, don’t run— don’t run. You watched as Daemon walked towards Caraxes without a care in the world that his wife might get fried tonight.

“Konir sagon ñuha ābrazȳrys, ao gīmigon zirȳla syt izula hūra, keligon issare quba.” That is my wife, you have know about her for four moons. I told you.

Daemon sounded like he was scolding the dragon.

He turned to you “Come my love.”

You obeyed, talking small steps towards him. Towards his outstretched hand. Everything would be fine, you trusted him. Entirely— wholeheartedly, with your life.

Just until Caraxes turned his long neck and his snout just with a feet from you. You froze entirely once more, Daemon still petting Caraxes.

“Dohaeras,” he whispered, almost as if he spoke to a child.

Caraxes’s big nostrils flared, sniffing you a couple of time before chirping. Daemon chuckled, you relaxed for a moment until Caraxes gently used his snout to trip you backwards before once more burying his snout in the sand and deeply exhaling, burying you in a thick sheet of sand. Daemon couldn’t help but break into a fit of laughter

“Daemon!”

You were going to great friends he knew it.

eeee I had so much fun writing this. I totally imagine Caraxes kinda being like jealous Lilly from modern family lol

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd smut #daemon targaryen smut #daemon fanfic #daemon smut #daemon fic #daemon au #houseofthedragon #house martell #house targaryen #desi hotd #desi!reader #desi writers #desiblr #desi tumblr #desi reader x daemon

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

Text

In Abstract 2

A sequel no one asked for. First Series: Portrait of a Dangerous Man

Warnings: noncon/rape, some violence, blood, alluded murder (for now?), grief, confusing, criminal allusions, some untagged extreme events.

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You adjust to life with Clark, thought the past won’t seem to let you go.

Character: mob!Clark Kent

Note: Thank you all for your support on the first chapter.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :) I appreciate your comments and enthusiasm! Reblogs help and are like candy, so please, feed me.

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

A mosaic of red, amber, and yellow reflects against the wall. The glass shade of the lamp glows low in the airy space, giving enough light to see yourself in the mirror, but leaves the room behind you in gloom. You place an earring on the pillow of your jewelry box, then the other.

You reach to unclasp the ehavy diamond necklace, the noose that signals your ultimate fate. The glint of the gems refracts in your reflection and stings your vision. You freeze and stare at the shell you've become. A mannequin dressed to his delight.

"Leave it," Clark demands from the doorway.

You slowly lower your hands to the edge of the vanity and say nothing. How long has he been watching? The same question you've asked over and over. The rotting guilt of how long it took you to realise the true intentions of this man. Maybe if you saw it sooner…

Maybes do nothing for the present certainty.

You stand between the velvet stool and the desk. As you do, Clark crosses the room and comes up behind you. He holds you in place, he large hands on your shoulders. You avoid his gaze in the mirror.

He hooks his fingers in the satin straps of your dress and follows them down. He feels along the top to the zipper and tugs it down with a single swipe. You brace the table to keep still against his force.

He guides the sleek sheath down your figure and unveils the black lacy ensemble beneath. You've obeyed him and for that he might have mercy. He lets out a hum a your dress heaps at your feet. He reaches around you to cup the lacy bra that does little to conceal you chest.

He leans into you, breathing you in as his hands trails down along your stomach. He purrs as he steps over the stool and perches on it. He has you crowded against the desk.

He retracts his hands as you try not to topple in the tight space. His zippers slices through the silence and he groans. You watch yourself, you see the shame in the hollow depths of your eyes, the defeat in the slant of your shoulders.

He traces the thin straps of the high-cut panties and trails down the scallop of the hem. He shoves his fingers down below your ass and feels along your folds. He wiggles them until your stand wider.

You bend slightly forward, gripping the vanity desk for balance. He teases you, toys with you as you see the subtle movement if his other arm past your reflection. You lower your chin and hide in the storm of your body's betrayal.

He urges you back. You fold to his will, as you always have. Your vision blurs and you're back in that moment. The smell of gunpowder and blood, the last gurgling breaths of the man you spend years with.

Clark paws at you, pushing aside the lace as he angles you over him. He sits you in his lap slowly, inching into you until you quiver with fullness. You grasp his thigh as he opens you up to the mirror, the sight of him sinking deeper drawing your gaze. You turn your head, ashamed of how the scene intoxicates you.

You loathe this man to the core but he consumes you. Without your permission, he steals the pleasure once reserved only for a man you loved. A man you believed loved you, too.

Your head drops down but he catches your chin and forces it back up. He growls as he nuzzles behind your ear, "watch."

Your eyes snap wide and you see yourself. Weak and defeated in his lap. You feel perilous atop him as he keeps your bodies balanced on the narrow velvet bench. He rocks your hips as his eyes descend to the joining of your lust, the ways your unbidden desire glistens on his thick length.

He bows his head, his fingers finding your tender bud as he tilts you against him. Deliberate long strokes as he moves you to his whim. He kisses your neck, wetting the skin with his tongue before biting into it. You squeal as he snarls, moving you faster, deeper, as he stirs fire in your core.

You moan as your head lolls in his grip. You can't look away. You watch your desecration, feel it eating you from inside out. Your futility dissipates into the ecstast of his fiddling fingers and you twitch as you cum in surrender.

You pant wildly as he drags his hand up your stomach. He curls his fingers, digging his nails into your flesh. He scratches you, tearing at your flesh as he uses you. He moves out faster, and faster, until your dizzy and dumb.

He stands suddenly, jolting you against the desk. Your face hits the glass, your reflection blurred in the mirror. You slap your hand beside you, gripping the frame as he ruts into you without pause. He covers your hand with his, nipping you again, leaving tender spots down your shoulder.

The feet of the vanity scrape and grind, the contents bouncing atop it, pearls spilling, the diamonds across your collar swinging as you cling on. You shudder and whine as he buries himself over and over, as deep as he can, until the pleasure is tamped out by the pain.

He spreads his hand across your forehead, forcing your face up as his other hooks around your necklace. He rams against you until your toes slide on the floor, until our bracing onto the wood desperately. Until you're sure you could shatter into pieces.

This is what you wanted, right? The money, the life of an artist, free to sit in a room an paint, only for the cost of your soul.

🎨

Blackness. Silky and swirling. Deep and dull. Reaching for you, pulling you down, swathing you unbreakable bounds.

BANG!

You wake to the dark room. The gunshot echoes in your ears. So real you swear it must have been. Yet the sonorous house is quiet and the man beside you undisturbed.

You stare up at the ceiling, then trail your gaze down the pointed post of the bed. Clark's warmth clouds around you, his arm draped around your middle. Even asleep, he must keep you in his thrall.

The blankets swoop over his hip, leaving his torso and a single leg naked. You turn your head to stare at the pits of his sockets, the way the darkness gathers in the angles of his face, a wraith at rest. You feel his breath like a desert storm as it escapes him in long blustery snores.

You're still for some time. Just until your heart calms, until Marcus' pleas fade away. You touch his forearm, feeling the bulging veins, and shift it slowly away. You sit up and replace yourself with a pillow.

Carefully, you crawl down to the foot of the bed. You dip a leg down, then the other, bringing your soles flat onto the rug. You sift through the night like wandering soul, sweeping the robe from its hook as you flee to the door.

You coax the hinges so they don't groan. You leave the clasp uncaught and begin down the hallway. The eerie silence beckons to you.

You go into the room-made-studio. The large easel towers in the shadows, the windows gleaming as the curtains hang at the borders, the snow feeding the moonlight.

Canvases line the wall, half-finished dreams and torn nightmares. You go to the drawing table and take the sketchbook from atop it. You snatch a pencil from the bunch and look around.

The room changes. The easel overturns and the air laces with nickel and smoke. A deep voice rolls through the lull and tears salt your eyes.

You pull the chain on the lamp and sit in its glow, legs crossed on the cold floor. The pencil moves to record the still life of your memory. The lead turns dull as you scribble, shade, and smudge, until finally it snaps.

You bat away the gloss of your grief and look at the page. Marcus' chest gapes as his life pools beneath him, stained across your front as you hold the gun, a faceless figure behind you, holding you by a noose. Clark is little more than a humanoid cluster of zig zags and loops. A scribbled beast taunting his prey.

You drop the pencil and flip to the page before. It’s the same. Almost. In every sketch there’s something slightly out of place. Sometimes it’s not a gun by a knife. Other times, it’s you in the chair, bleeding out, but you’re still holding the gun. You keep turning until you reach the cover and snap the book shut altogether.

Clark stole more than an apartment, a boyfriend, and a life. He stole your art. He extracted your very essence and set it to curdle.

🎨

You add a layer of foam to your mother’s cup before presenting her with your novice attempt at a latte. The overpriced machine is no good in your hands but for a simple medium roast or at best an americano. Can’t mess up espresso and water that much.

She smiles but it doesn’t go further than her lips. She’s unimpressed. It’s out of character given that every inch of the house has thus far astounded her. In a grim way, her enthusiasm echoes Marcus. The way he marveled at the elaborate mansion and fatefully, aspired to it.

“Fancy machine,” she comments as she slides her mug closer, examining the top.

“Yup,” you mutter.

“You’ve got it all, sweetheart, why so glum?”

You want to roll your eyes. It’s a coffee machine. It’s all just things. A necklace, a ring, a house. There is no life in it, no spirit, they are just items without meaning, some don’t even have a purpose. Vases without flowers and candlesticks without flames.

“I’m tired,” you say. It’s not a lie, you’re damn exhausted. You can’t remember the last night you slept without waking to the screams of your ex reverberating in your ears. “How are you doing, jetlag hitting you?”

“Not really, it’s an hour difference, hun,” she takes a sip and makes a face, “oh, bitter.”

She gives you a long look as if she isn’t just commenting on the drink. You reach for her mug as she sets it down and you carry it to the sink to dump it out.

“You’ll have to try. I can’t seem to work it,” you admit defeat.

“Oh, dear, you know I’m just very particular about my coffee,” she comes around, approaching the machine. “It’s all about the balance.”

She opens the top and empties the grounds. You stand back and lean on the counter. You sense the air shift and from the corner of your sight, you see Clark enter. You try not to show your discomfort.

“Smells like coffee,” he hums.

“Ah, well, hate to disappoint, it’s not done yet,” your mother tosses over her shoulder, “what do you take? Mocha? Latte?”

“Dark roast is fine,” he affirms as he nears and sets his hand on your shoulder. He leans in to kiss your cheek, his fingers playing with the high collar of your turtleneck, alluding to what you’re hiding beneath. He trails his hand down your arm and takes your hand, raising it only to stop short. “Where’s your ring?”

“Oh, uh, I… put it back in the box. I didn’t want to lose it–”

“In the box,” your mother says, “you should wear it proudly.”

“Um, yeah, I just thought… we’re not going anywhere.”

Clark clicks his tongue and lets you go. He inhales deeply and tucks his hands in his pockets, “does that matter? If we’re going anywhere? It’s not about showing off.”

“He’s right,” your mother agrees.

You hold back a sigh. “I didn’t mean…”

“She’s always been a bit forgetful,” your mother intones, “ah, if I found such a dashing guy, you know I’d wear a ring like that to bed even.”

“I’ll go get it,” you say.

Clark stares at you, gaze boring into you as his nostrils flare. Your mother continues to finagle the machine as you sidle away. He mouths to you, ‘hurry up’.

You bow your head and scurry out. As you reach the door, you peek back at your mother. Clark turns to watch her. There’s something sinister about how he keeps one hand on his belt, as if he’s hiding something there. You don’t hesitate any longer.

You’re almost in a full run by the time you reach the stairs. You puff up onto the landing and down the hall. You go to the vanity, still askew from the night before. You find the velvet box and wiggle the ring free.

You stop and turn it between your fingers. It feels heavier than it should. As you slide it on, it’s like a vice around you, locking you in this place forever. You shudder and you glance at yourself in the mirror.

There she is, the woman he wants. She’s not you, she just wears your face, she was born from your fear. You drop your hands and push your shoulders straight, marching out as if to the executioner.

As you reach the first floor, you hear your mother trilling. You enter the kitchen to the sight of her presenting Clark with a mug. He peers inside and gives a half-smirk.

“I was a barista in college,” she boasts, “not like my little Tweety,” she winks at you as you enter, “she worked at a pizza joint. Oh, you should’ve seen her. All that grease made her so pimply! She smelled like pepperoni.”

“Ha,” you force a laugh, “yeah, not my finest era.”

“Oh, but look at her now,” she preens, “so elegant. She’s caught herself a gentleman.”

Clark gives a bashful chuckle. She touches his arm, her thumb rubbing his sleeve.

“Take care of her for me,” she says, the allusion to the dead bites you, “better than the last one.”

“Always,” Clark turns his head to face you, “all I ever wanted was to prize her. To treat her well. Better than anyone could.”

#clark kent #dark clark kent #dark!clark kent #clark kent x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #sequel #in abstract #au #mob!au #dc #dcu #superman

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still-a-morosexual-help · 1 year

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I like to imagine twst and obey me sharing an mc for the express purpose of having interactions between malleus and mammon, because the parallel and contrasts between their personalities are so funny to me lmao

*eyeing Mammon's dragon wings, the dragon on his yukata & all the fire symbolism surrounding him* Listen, if the two mcs were the same person, they would fucking h a t e each other. Mammon is already possessive enough and apparently Malleus is too

Mammon doesn't fight unless he's pushed to it and, from what I've seen so far, neither does Malleus - it'd be a lot of really really weird posturing, a lot of "actually I'M their favourite"

That being said, as much as I've grown to love twst's mc they absolutely in no way compare to om's batshit mc

twst's mc actually has a self preservation instinct and doesn't actively seek out danger despite always getting in it, also doesn't seem to be a monsterfucker.

OM's mc on the otherhand has 0 self preservation, actively sticks their nose into situations they know can get them killed, is very much dtf even when they are being threatened with death (halloween event, 1st paws event, mammon's vampire card, possible more tbh), becomes a little bit prone to violence & destruction after they get powers to the point that they get called out by Mammon (ok fair enough) but also by Lucifer & Belphie of all people

So I propose: Let them be friends.

twst mc needs an adult in their life who has already gone through the whole "providing therapy to 7 traumatised overpowered idiots on the verge of a mental breakdown" process & come out stronger.

They need someone they can complain to who'll understand exactly what they're going through.

Also at the rate they're going, they need to learn how to defend themself & om mc is canonically really strong (enough to kick down levi's locked door & stop themself and simeon from being pulled into a "blackhole" that sucked in Mammon & Levi - ik mammon & levi are physically two of the weakest brothers but that's still an insane amount of strength on mc's part), can use a sword (Lucifer taught them for the tsl play and given how much of a perfectionist Lucifer is - they know how to use a sword), can use a bow & arrow (according to a HoL chat)

tldr: twst mc desperately needs an adult on their side who understands & helps them

#asks #obey me #disney twisted wonderland #obey me shall we date #twisted wonderland #obey me mammon #om! mammon #swd mammon #malleus draconia #twst malleus #mammon x mc #mc x mammon #malleus x mc #malleus draconia x mc #obey me mc #twisted wonderland mc #om! mc #twisted wonderland yuu

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ryuichirou · 3 months

Text

Replies

Some replies! About our Crewel/Deuce art from yesterday + other TWST-related things (and one about OHSHC).

Anonymous asked:

nothing really special to say, but i wanted to let you know that your art has been helping me to draw more!! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ i have a big issue of hating my art, but seeing your passion for your work motivates me to work through it so i can get good at it instead of giving up, so thank you a lot i love what you do!!!!

Anon, this is so sweet ;w; I am so happy to hear that my work motivates you, it truly means a lot! I hope you’ll keep drawing and will enjoy the process of creating art more and more with every new sketch. Passion is one of the most important things when it comes to any kind of art.

Thank you! This is honestly one of the best things to hear.

icedefloweringtornado asked:

I have your blog set to notifications so all I see a lot of the time is the limited description. Today's 'good boy' had me just all oh is it going to be Idia? One of my hearts boys? Deuce. The goodest not goodest boy.

First of all, ahhh thank you so much for having notifications on, this is so nice of you!

Second of all, yeah, there are a lot of pretty good boys in twst lol some of them are only good when they are being bullied (Idia)… and some of them are the goodest not goodest like Deucey <3

Anonymous asked:

Your latest post?? Deuce/Crewel art has actually made my brain explode. I feel like a fool for not even thinking of them as a ship. You (plural) truly do just have the best takes in this fandom.

Deuce, the bad-boy-trying-to-be-good has always struck me as someone very, very eager to please. Then you have Crewel, the strict professor who puts students' in their place with a little *too* much abuse of power. The unequal power dynamics of professor and student? Delicious.

Lowkey, I imagine Deuce would be so used to obeying "commands" at some point another student would just say a command jokingly and Deuce automatically follows the command without second thought before realizing what the hell he is doing.

Thank you so much, Anon!! Whenever I draw these two, we think about how the hell did it take us this long to consider this ship. They are so horrible (=amazing) together… It feels so obvious, and yet…

Deuce is super eager to please and naive enough to be lured into something very dangerous. It’s so fun that he is genuinely trying, but somehow he still ends up in iffy situations. But it’s one thing when it’s Ace’s antics that put him in trouble, but Divus abusing his power is a whole other can of worms. There is no authority figure to help Deuce out this time. It’s super imbalanced, and Deuce is way too easy to take advantage of. Perfection :”)

Ohh, but well-trained puppy Deuce reacting to a command said by some other student…. A pavlovian response 😭 Let’s hope this is just “sit” or “paw” or something and not something spicier…

Anonymous asked:

AAAA THE CREWDEUCE 😍😍💞💞💞 THANK YOU RYUU FOR THE FOOD!!!!!! We need more Sensei ships up in here TBH

You’re very welcome and thank youuu!! Totally agree!

irregardlessly-tish asked:

I began the Glorious Mascarade event and every new facet of Rook's personality and identity is just... What even is this guy? He was just speaking some French words as he always does and someone else said "oh yeah, you're from this area right?" and he's like "No, I'm from the Savanna :)". So, you're telling me he's a fake? A poser? Some kind of weeb but for twisted France instead of Japan??? All this time he's been just the equivalent of someone being "omg >w< that's so kawaii desu ne~ owo!!". I always knew he was a freak and a weirdo (lovingly), I just didn't consider the extent of it... He's a normal weeb, all the signs were there with his idol obsessions... I was just too blind to see...

Ohh, I hope you’re enjoying it, Tish! It’s one of the best events, in my opinion.

“What even is this guy” IS SUCH A GOOD WAY TO DESCRIBE ROOK LOL The more you learn about him, the more questions you get: the fuck do you mean “I’m from Savanna”??? Your family does what for a living??? You can do what with your body??? It’s always like that with him. Even though he is very honest, he is also so fucking fake in a lot of ways. He really is just a Twisted France weeb …

I really wonder what made him love French so much. But then again, I feel like if we learn the reason behind it, it’ll leave us with 5 more questions about this weirdo lol

Anonymous asked:

i know you said the shadows in the deuce and epel skirt art belong to mobs but hear me out…it the other freshmen…freshmen gangbang

(this is about this drawing)

Very valid thought, Anon, I honestly wouldn’t be surprised with how horny some of the other freshmen students are… I feel like if you leave the freshmen all alone unattended, at some point this is the scenario that they are going to end up in.

Anonymous asked:

Random, but imagine a Scott pilgrim AU, but with Twist:

Oh, you want to date, Idia? Then you'll have to beat his 7 evil exes: Azul, the Tweels, Lilia, Sebek, Ortho, Eliza.

((Not sure if you heard/read Ghost's marriage event, but this is where Eliza appeared. Basically, she had an obsession with Idia, lmao))

Anon! This is a very good idea, and funny thing is, we had a sketch about Idia and his 7 evil exes lol I can’t post it here because it’s ko-fi exclusive (if you have access to our ko-fi, here is the post link; sorry, the access to one specific post can’t be purchased separately), but yeah this is basically this line-up minus Eliza, plus Trey. Ace plays Scott’s role… poor Idia, it’s probably so weird for him to be the manic pixie dream boy with 7 exes, he has no fucking clue how he ended up like this.

(Haven’t watched Ghost marriage yet, but I’m excited about it; we’re saving it for later just because it’s guaranteed to be a great even for us lol)

Anonymous asked:

smth I'm just curious Abt, have you seen/heard of ohshc??

Yes, of course! OHSHC was one of the titles we watched back in middle school even before we met each other, so it’s been a while… and it’s been a while since our last rewatch of it…

But still, it’s an amazing comedy that we quote a lot to this day. Theatre of (Tamaki’s) Mind, Homosexual supporting cast, I’m making a hamster home; all of it is so stupid and lovely lol

We tried to find the latest sketch of Tamaki and Kyoya from several years ago, but holy shit we don’t remember the year we drew it lol so I guess no sketches! Well, a reason to draw it all over now that my art looks better anyway.

#replies

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