#technicolor-chocolate

[nova2cosmos]

Gonna give metatheater a big ol kiss and a cup of hot cocoa

MDPAU Bad Sanses Belongs To Me General Lunatic Story - Reference Previous Asks-Next Asks

[susartwork]

I wanna draw the data trio (File accept, File deny, and Basic) together but I don't have any ideas

Do you have any?

First off omg thanks if you're gonna draw my boy with 'em! (≧▽≦)

And to answer your question, here's some ideas: - Power Rangers pose. - They cosplay something or wear pretty clothes together. - Them trying to hack into Area 51 files.

[artistoons-blog-thing]

What's your favorite kind of candy?

I'm not sure which one is my favorite, but I like Hershey's chocolate, KitKats, and Twix

[shoutmonishere]

Hey mon green tea is supposed to smell like cigarettes right

(context: my throats sore and there's like a 50% chance I'm sick and I made tea. I put honey in it because why not. I'm pretty sure I've burnt the honey)

NO?!????

GREEN TEA ISN'T SUPPOSED TO SMELL LIKE CIGARETTES—

WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU BURNT THE HONEY—

[blinky-of-an-eye]

✒️Aughhh, okay, I’m literally so so so excited to share this with you all!! Bones has been helping me make a group shot of our little subsystem, and I’m absolutely delighted to tell you it’s finally done!! They did such a great job helping me, and I’m going to cry-🖋

[ktempestbradford]

I have been on a Willy Wonkified journey today and I need y'all to come with me

It started so innocently. Scrolling Google News I come across this article on Ars Technica:

At first glance I thought what happened was parents saw AI-generated images of an event their kids were at and became concerned, then realized it was fake. The reality? Oh so much better.

On Saturday, event organizers shut down a Glasgow-based "Willy's Chocolate Experience" after customers complained that the unofficial Wonka-inspired event, which took place in a sparsely decorated venue, did not match the lush AI-generated images listed on its official website.... According to Sky News, police were called to the event, and "advice was given."

Thing is, the people who paid to go were obviously not expecting exactly this:

But I can see how they'd be a bit pissed upon arriving to this:

It gets worse.

"Tempest, how could it possibly--"

source of this video that also includes this charming description:

Made up a villain called The Unknown — 'an evil chocolate maker who lives in the walls'

There is already a meme.

Oh yes, the Wish.com Oompa Loompa:

Who has already done an interview!

As bad (and hilarious) as this all is, I got curious about the company that put on this event. Did they somehow overreach? Did the actors they hired back out at the last minute? (Or after they saw the script...) Oddly enough, it doesn't seem so!

Given what I found when poking around I'm legit surprised there was an event at all. Cuz this outfit seems to be 100% a scam.

The website for this specific event is here and it has many AI generated images on it, as stated. I don't think anyone who bought tickets looked very closely at these images, otherwise they might have been concerned about how much Catgacating their children would be exposed to.

Yes, Catgacating. You know, CATgacating!

I personally don't think anyone should serve exarserdray flavored lollipops in public spaces given how many people are allergic to it. And the sweet teats might not have been age appropriate.

Though the Twilight Tunnel looks pretty cool:

I'm not sure that Dim Tight Twdrding is safe. I've also been warned that Vivue Sounds are in that weird frequency range that makes you poop your pants upon hearing them.

Yes, Virginia, these folks used an AI image generator for everything on the website and used Chat GPT for some of the text! From the FAQ:

Q: I cannot go on the available days. Will you have more dates in the future? A: Should there be capacity when you arrive, then you will be able to enter without any problems. In the event that this is not the case, we may ask you to wait a bit.

Fear not, for this question is asked again a few lines down and the answer makes more sense.

Curious about the events company behind this disaster, I took myself over to the homepage of House of Illuminati and I was not disappointed.

I would 100% trust these people to plan my wedding.

This abomination of a website is a badly edited WordPress blog filled with AI art and just enough blog posts to make the casual viewer think that it's a legit business for about 0.0004 seconds.

Their attention to detail is stunning, from how they left up the default first post every WP blog gets to how they didn't bother changing the name on several images, thus revealing where they came from. Like this one:

With the lovely and compact filename "DALL·E-2024-01-30-09.50.54-Imagine-a-scene-where-fantasy-and-reality-merge-seamlessly.-In-the-foreground-a-grand-interactive-gala-is-taking-place-filled-with-elegant-guests-i.png"

"Concept.png" came from the same AI generator that gets text almost, but not quiiiiiite right:

There are a suspicious number of .webp images in the uploads, which makes me think they either stole them from other sites where AI "art" was uploaded or they didn't want to pay for the hi-res versions of some and just grabbed the preview image.

The real fun came when I noticed this filename: Before-and-After-Eventologists-Transformation-Edgbaston-Cricket-Ground-1024x1024-1.jpg and decided to do a Google image search. Friends, you will be shocked to hear that the image in question, found on this post touting how they can transform a boring warehouse into a fun event space, was stolen from this actual event planner.

Even better, this weirdly grainy image?

From a post that claims to be about the preparations for a "Willy Wonka" experience (we'll get to this in a minute), is not only NOT an actual image of anyone preparing anything for Illuminati's event, it is stolen from a YouTube thumbnail that's been chopped to remove the name of the company that actually made this. Here's the video.

If you actually read the blog posts they're all copypasta or some AI generated crap. To the point where this seems like not a real business at all. There's very specific business information at the bottom, but nothing else seems real.

As I said, I'm kinda surprised they put on an event at all. This has, "And then they ran off with all our money!" written all over it. I'm perplexed.

And also wondering when the copyright lawyers are gonna start calling, because...

This post explicitly says they're putting together a "Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory Experience" complete with golden tickets.

Somewhere along the line someone must have wised up, because the actual event was called "Willys Chocolate Experience" (note the lack of apostrophe) and the script they handed to the actors about 10 minutes before they were supposed to "perform" was about a "Willy McDuff" and his chocolate factory.

As I was going through this madness with friends in a chat, one pointed out that it took very little prompting to get the free Chat GPT to spit out an event description and such very similar to all this while avoiding copyrighted phrases. But he couldn't figure out where the McDuff came from since it wasn't the type of thing GPT would usually spit out...

Until he altered the prompt to include it would be happening in Glasgow, Scotland.

You cannot make this stuff up.

But truly, honestly, I do not even understand why they didn't take the money and run. Clearly this was all set up to be a scam. A lazy, AI generated scam.

Everything from the website to the event images to the copy to the "script" to the names of things was either stolen or AI generated (aka stolen). Hell, I'd be looking for some poor Japanese visitor wandering the streets of Glasgow, confused, after being jacked for his mascot costume.

HE LIVES IN THE WALLS, Y'ALL.

[persephonesdreams21]

Sweet Tooth

A/N: Well let me say first and foremost. My bad guys. Lol I didn't mean to keep this rotting in my drafts for almost a year, but life got crazy. I hope you guys enjoy this

Warnings: Explicit. Oral(fem receiving) Body worship. Finger sucking. Squirting. Multiple orgasms. Willy being down bad.

Summary: You’re sweeter than any chocolate he could cook up, and Willy is all too eager to show you just how much he craves you. Your smiles, your attention…your taste.

The last few weeks of your life have been vibrant.

Filled with technicolor so unlike the dreary years you’ve spent in this town. Between the weather and the chipped cobblestone, England was so gray this time of year. Frigid and frozen over with winter winds and a constant flurry of snow.

It was on a particularly cold night that you’d found him.

Saved him, he’d argue whenever he told the story. Saved him from Bleacher and his mangy mutt.

“Don't you ever get tired of harassing people?” you'd sighed as you'd stumbled upon the scene. A familiar one- another poor soul about to get roped into Bleacher and Scrubbit’s barely concealed hoodwink. Everyone who’d grown up in this city knew better.

“Why don't you mind your business, Y/N. And leave us be. Both me and mister-” Bleacher looks to the man. The one with the sharp cheekbones and the ostentatious velvet trench coat.

“Wonka. Willy Wonka” And he’d said it with such innocence gleaming in those bright eyes that in that moment, you knew you couldn't let him fall victim to the cruel scam.

That’s how you’d ended up with an unexpected housemate.

The home you’d grown up in is nothing special and far from fancy, but you do happen to have a spare room. One with an old fold-out bed that’s more comfortable than it looks. It may have been stupid, but you couldn't help but trust him. Want to help him, feel this pull to him…

That was weeks ago. Almost a month now.

Willy living with you, under your roof, feels oddly natural. Like it had been years that the two of you had been co-existing, he fits into your space like he was destined to come to you. Like he belongs there; the two of you working together like a well oiled machine.

You cook dinner, he washes the dishes and wipes down the counters. The house has never been neater. Even though you try to deny them, every day when he returns from the Gallery Gourmet, he leaves silver shillings in the key bowl on the kitchen table.

“It’s not much…but I want to make sure I’m paying my way. I’m real appreciative of all you’ve done for me” he tells you so earnestly it makes you blush. You sneakily slip his sovereigns in the pockets of his trousers when you do his laundry.

He doesn't know it but he’s helped you too. And not just by scrubbing dishes.

You truly hadnt realized how lonely you were until he came along, and you were terrified of losing your found companion. You’d hold on to him for as long as he’d allow.

Your new favorite time of the day is the evenings; quiet ones. With a fire burning in the hearth and the radio playing softly. You and Willy curl up on the couch, warm in your respective quilts. And read. Well, you read to him. At his persistent insistence.

“Aren't you tired of me blabbing yet?” you tease as you pick up the dog eared copy of The Hobbit that the two of you had been working your way through.

Willy gives you a grin, all boyish and crooked “Never that. I adore the way you tell stories”

That makes your stomach swoop dangerously and you shake your head “You’re a flatter, Mr. Wonka”

“No, no. Your voice is more melodic than the bells of Notre Dame” and when he says things like that to you, how are you not supposed to swoon? From any other man it would make you scoff, but from Willy his compliments always feel different.

Like maybe he’s telling the truth…

You ignore it and change the subject to something that feels safer “One day i'm gonna put you in front of a map and make you show me all the places you’ve been”

“Honestly, It would probably be easier to mark off the few places I haven't been-”

“Oh ho ho ho. How modest of you, great explorer” You tease around a laugh and his ears redden a bit at your ribbing.

“It's not like that and you know it” Willy defends “It was a lot less glamorous than it sounds. I spent seven years under the deck scrubbing pots and then collecting ingredients for my chocolate whenever we made port”

“And wooing girls on every continent?” I ask and that blush on his ears spreads to the high apples of his cheeks.

He’s a pretty one and you know even though he pretends to be demure, might come off as innocent, he’s anything but.

You’d gotten a small taste of it, and hadn't thought of anything else since. But neither of you had quite mustered the bravery to talk about that yet.

The two of you settle in on the old worn couch with mugs of steaming hot chocolate, courtesy of Willy. He’d spoiled you rotten, made you develop a terrible sweet tooth. Any cavities you develop, you’re completely blaming on him.

“Willy” you whine.

“Just try it, please. I made this recipe especially for you”

You take a sip.

The first rush of flavor over your taste buds has your eyes fluttering.

“Mmm, oh my god” you can't help but moan. It’s the most complex thing you’ve ever tasted. Truly. He’s outdone himself- cinnamon and warmth.The kind that feels like a a lovers embrace. Sweet milk chocolate. Is that a hit of rose? “This is insane, what’s in this?”

At your praise Willy smiles like the cat that caught the canary “Cinnamon bark from Sri Lanka, Wild roses from China. Coconut milk”

You look over at him, appraising. Trying to figure out why his voice has taken on that husk. Why his eyes are boring into so intensely.

“What a peculiar combination of flavors” you whisper and Willy bites his lip.

“Its become my favorite combination lately” he admits “but I can't seem to get it quite right. You see, I was allowed to taste it only once, and its tormented me since”

Your breath hitches. Flashes of tangling tongues tongues and his lips pressed against yours. It had only been one kiss but it had wreaked havoc on you since.

You eyeball the mug in your hands. Maybe you weren't the only one suffering with the after effects after all.

“Is this chocolate supposed to taste like?...”

“You. Yes. Your kiss. Your tongue and your lips” Willy nods. “I don't know if anything can come close to the real thing, but I tried”

Your heart thunders behind your ribcage. The longing in his voice matches the one within your gut, the need that had been brewing.

“I’ve spent hours. Thinking of you, trying to imitate your taste so that I could have it one more time. Spicy, but not quite. More warm. Sweet…the floral note from your lipstick. I’ve been nearly everywhere and i’ve never sampled anything quite like it”

With his confession, the thin thread of control snaps.

You’d been trying, so hard. Trying not to scare him away. Trying to keep the intensity of your feelings at bay so that he’d stay, even after he secured his shop. That he wouldnt leave you when he found success-

You place the mug down on the old wood of the side table-

“Please” Willy’s pathetic as he grabs at your arm “Don't go, I understand if this was too much but I- I didn't know how else to show you”

You lean into his touch, not away and that seems to calm him if only just.

Of course this sweet silly man couldn't just tell you that he cared for you. That was not his style. He was bad with words, so much better with his hands. To him, he’d shown you the most sincere form of devotion, crafted your portrait with his most loved medium.

“I feel the same” you say, voice quivering just the tiniest bit. His eyes melt and he comes in close, forehead knocking against yours.

When you kiss him its hot from the start. It’s wet and electric, charged with emotion. With desperation. Willy’s sinewy hands are all over you, cupping your chin, squeezing your waist, so much more bold this time. The waiting had lowered any inhibitions he might have had.

It’s frantic, him unbuttoning your blouse and you tugging at his trousers.

You need more. Need to feel his dark silky hair between your fingers, his pale skin under your palms.

Nothing feels like enough. Not when he mouths at your garment covered breasts or when you wiggle out of your skirt.

You reach into his boxers, wanting to palm at the blood hot hardness you’ll find there-

He groans and pulls his mouth away from your neck, where he’d been suckling marks into the delicate skin. “Wait, don’t”

“Why?” you’re confused, you can feel him. Firm and needy under the cloth.

“Because I want to take care of you first. With my mouth. If you’ll let me”

And oh. Oh.

All you can do is nod. Lay back and let him take what he needs, you feel more vulnerable than ever before. When he blankets you with his body, you realize that you also feel safer. Adored by this man, by this odd beautiful man.

Willy is a tactile person. He wants to touch and taste. And so that is what he does.

There’s so much to feel. Your heavy breasts, peaked with hard little nipples that he swirls his tongue round. Your belly and wide hips, so soft, so much give, he watches his fingers dig in and indent. Your thighs, so plush.

He buries his head between them. And inhales, deeply.

“Willy!” you exclaim, scandalized, trying to close your legs, but he shoulders his way deeper.

“You smell so good” Willy reassures you, his nose pressed against the wet patch on your knickers. Groaning like it’s the best scent in the world.

He takes his time, savors the moment as he peels the damp fabric away. His eyes locked on how the strings of slick stretch and shine in the low fire light. You’re so wet, the puffy lips of your cunt sopping already. And when he takes his first tentative lap, he knows that he could do this for hours and there's no way he’d ever be able to replicate it.

Nectar from the gods. Earthy and sour sweet.

You whimper as he feasts, as he gorges greedily. The sight of his dark head bobbing between your thighs makes you shudder. It’s almost unreal. That he’s doing this, that he wants you. His arms are wrapped around the back of your thighs, holding them up, holding you open.

You come for the first time with your fingers buried in his hair, pressing his face deep into you. Riding his nose and tongue.

For the second time you’re arching away from the sharp pleasure.

“Willy” you choke on your whines as his fingers reach deep into you, hitting that sensitive place inside over and over. You’re shaking with overstimulation, but hes groaning like he’s the one being brought to orgasm over and over.

He pulls his wet mouth away every so often. To tell you how beautiful you are. How good you taste.

“I can’t” you whisper, warningly.

“Please” Willy insists, his breath against your clit “One more, one more for me”

You can't deny him anything, can you?

You arch right up from the couch cushions, squealing as you hit that peak again. But this time is different, this time something inside you bursts, pushing wetness out in a flood.

Willy lets out a gutted sound from where he’s smothered by your thighs, that have tightened vice like around his head during your orgasm.

Coming down from it is almost painful and you’ve never sobbed from pleasure but well. There’s a first time for everything. While you shake and shiver Willy’s gentle, petting your thighs and tummy in soothing circles. Pulling away from your over sensitive flesh.

He stares up at you, his gaze heavy and his tongue poking out every few seconds. Swiping at his wet lips. Like he can't stop tasting you. It’s debauched. Beautiful.

“You are the best thing i’ve ever tasted” Willy pants out the vow, raw with honesty. Drunk on the flavor of you.

Wryly, you wonder if he’ll try to manufacture it into a truffle. A fancy bon bon.

You smile as he climbs back fully on top of you, your arms wrapping around him and holding him close. You kiss the shell of his ear before whispering-

“My turn to taste you”

🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬

I never thought I’d be writing Willy Wonka smut but well. Here I am lol

[braaan]

Sunday Best (w/ Eunseo)

male reader & wjsn eunseo

fluff & smut, 3k words

As far as you’ve rationalized, it doesn’t make any sense.

For starters, you and Eunseo have been together since high school, and this is far from the first time she’s been in your apartment.

The first time, hours after a mutual friend’s birthday party gets cut short, Eunseo’s throwing up in your bathroom. It’s a tale as old as time: the Friday night of a long weekend, way too many groupchats, high school bravado kneecapped by Fireball shooters — it’s messy, and senior year. You get you’re her boyfriend’d into nursing her back to life, and one grueling night shift later, she’s under your covers while you’re trying to get comfy on your small-for-sitting futon. And despite how early she’s up the next morning, between the still warm almond croissants on your countertop, the deep hug she pulls you into before you can drum up anything sarcastic, and how much better your basketball shorts sit on her waistline — drawstring double-knotted, waistband rolled all the way up — it’s hard to stay mad.

Another time, you’re coming back from date night, and before the front door even closes in on you two, she’s walking your apartment’s perimeter, pulling out supplies from a backpack. You’re trailing her, trying to simultaneously close the distance she covers and read the tiny labels on household items she leaves in her wake. Before long, there’s not a countertop unmarked by these tiny rubber characters (“They’re called SMISKIs”), all of your spaces start to predominantly smell like daisies, and you don’t recognize half of the brands in your bathroom. Any other time: you’d say something. Any other time: you’d stand up for yourself; puff your chest into the slight height difference. Any other time Eunseo wasn’t reappearing from your bedroom in a tiny cotton shirt and all eight inches of these plaid blue pajama shorts: yeah, you’d draw your boundaries.

Sometime after that, in the lull of quiet comfort and work from home, her legs are in your lap as you both bat away questions on individual video calls. Difference couldn’t be any more stark. Twelve minutes into your morning meeting, in between unmutes of your desktop microphone, you’ve tallied up a total of twenty words, and have entertained a serious-and-three-quarters imagination about where else you could call into this — your camera’s off, after all. Eunseo’s your in-office foil: her chocolate hair freshly straightened, her baby blue button up perm pressed, her small talk status quo. Eunseo’s full of shit. Just off camera, unobvious in her digital four walls, she hasn’t changed out of your heather gray boxer shorts she wore to bed.

So, really:

It’s not the first time you’ve seen Eunseo wake up in a pair of shorts.

It doesn’t make any rational sense how much it still gets a reaction out of you.

--

Granted, it’s an unreal view.

The sun hurries through your curtains to pool around her feet, daybreak serving as stepping stones as she pads to your en suite. Golden yellow melts into her milk chocolate hair, spinning already light browns into shades of almond and sand between sunlit highlights. A breeze picks up through the fabric, and the light breaks. One moment she’s haloed, cast in sunlight, all of her curves etched in radiance; the next, momentarily obscured, a dream in soft-focus, half-glimpsed and inviting whole-yearning. From where you’re propped up on your elbows, she flickers in and out of reality and reverie, real-deal and daydream. She’s a light show in slow motion, superposition between technicolor and transfiguration; sunkiss and shadow in perfect ballet, catching an everyday angel between the light that loves her and pockets of beautiful mystery that make her all the more alluring.

All of this to Eunseo: her morning routine.

She walks without hesitation. Even when it’s mundane, there’s a tangible confidence in the way she sprays sea salt into her hair, carding her fingers through her roots.

It’s the one thing that threw you for a loop about her, really: for a long time, you were waiting for the character to drop. Blended between candor and how you’d be able to read anything just off of her facial expression, Eunseo was headstrong, and always heart first. Early into your relationship, it was unnerving. Younger yous bounced between bouts of ‘wow, that’s frank’ and ‘what are you compensating for?’. You got where you were in life — to you: where most people didn’t — by never playing all your cards, and here Eunseo was all the same, hand face up on the table.

Though it doesn’t take you too long to eventually admit that forward is sexy.

It’s in the way she asks for what she wants, unbothered by the answer, discarding pretense and step-by-step; it’s in the way she’ll take the lead without warning, showing up after work at your lobby to take you on a night she’s pre-planned; it’s in the way that — because on the weekend, you wake up on her time — she’s six feet away from you, tip-toed, peeling at the curtains: all the way stretched out.

And outlined in daylight, you don’t miss a detail.

For starters, her shirt’s way too small. It’s this light material: cheap white cotton that curls in on itself at the hem. And as she reaches out at the Roman shades, revealing more and more skin, you can explore all the small of her back, run imaginary hands along where her shirt stops, down the soft line where skin kisses spine. You can trace your thumbs at the space just above her hips, skirting shapes at her waistline, dancing just above the navy soccer shorts Eunseo wore in tenth grade, faded far from school colors, and tiny as hell.

You could sit there for hours — you’d find new angles to obsess over.

You get half a beat.

“It’s rude to stare, you know?”

And in one motion, Eunseo closes the distance between where she was and where you sit, quickly cross-legged on your comforter.

“And even ruder to have fun,” she starts, patting the blankets grouped around your waist, “all by yourself.”

“Fuck off,” you spit, batting away at her forearm. The blood runs to your cheeks, and your ears are hot. “You might as well be wearing nothing — what am I supposed to do?”

Looking at you through her fringes, the edges of her lips pulling into the start of a smile, she doesn’t need any words — it’s a brutally honest admission.

“You’re saying,” she whispers, “it’s these you like?” Both of your eyes flick to where her hands find the trim of her shorts, tracing the stitching at her thigh, following a runaway stripe with a fingernail — matte white, all insidious, and teasingly slow.

“Eunseo,” you try again flatly. “Fuck,” and there’s a pause here, implicit now anything but, “off.” 

Which would be half convincing if you could take your eyes off of her legs.

You’re tracing her thigh in your head, filling the toned crease with your gaze, painting Eunseo’s legs with attention.

She leans into you, and makes it hard to think. Your thoughts are cloudy; in the moment. Nothing becomes more top of mind than the smell of daisies.

There’s a half beat.

Then a whisper against your lips: “Tell me what you like.”

Forward is so fucking sexy.

Kissing Eunseo is like fire: hot, and all at once. She’s running her hands under your shirt, snaking her legs under your stomach; she’s whimpering against your bottom lip, redirecting your hands onto her chest; she’s running her tongue against your teeth, wedging herself square in all of your focus — you’re trying to keep up.

You’re kneading at her chest through cotton, creating new creases, feeling the bud of her nipple get hard in your hands.

You’re tugging at her t-shirt, stretching fabric out of form.

You’re molding Aphrodite — palming, gripping, shaping. Sculpting divinity on earth called for hours of sanctification, and you were here to worship.

Eunseo’s like putty to it all — so sensitive, and pliant at your fingertips. She’s moaning at your mouth, then whispering praises. Hushed against your lips: more, more, more, more, more.

You blink life back into your eyes, and magnetically, inherent like gravity, they fall onto hers. Filled with the night sky — wine-dark, galaxy-wide, abyssal, fully oblivion — even now: hooded, sultry, and all shades of dangerous, they felt inevitable, like they were where yours belonged. They beckoned — like they were written in all of your universes, like all the right roads led back to them.

And it’s like Eunseo reads your mind, because all of a sudden: she’s scarlet, a very red blush dancing across her cheeks.

“Okay, pretty boy,” she starts, catching her breath. Then, gathering her hair into a ponytail: “I’m going to blow your mind.”

And without hesitation, because you’re still stuck in ten seconds ago: “You look so cute.”

And because now she has to: “I’m already going to put you in my mouth, you don’t have to flatter me anymore.”

--

Eunseo’s flipped over, her cunt inches from your lips, drawing lines along your length with her tongue. And you’d return the favor quicker, if not for how mesmerizingly methodical she was. You’re catching glimpses of bits and pieces in the negative space between your bodies. Through her t-shirt: a flash of the flat of her tongue as she reaches the tip of your cockhead, her white nails replacing her mouth around your shaft at the top of her dips, her pretty pink pout — how they all disappear as she takes your cock down her throat. She knows all your soft spots — what you like; where you like it — and always gave you what you loved.

It feels like it all makes sense -

Your hips bucking into her mouth on her downbeats, the saccharine song she starts humming mid-bob, the precum-stained kisses she’s leaving along your length in legato, the half-notes they send across your nervous system -

- all of you feels like it rhythmically belongs together.

“Eunseo,” you manage to grit out, and you feel her smirk against your cock.

You can narrate it in your head. Hm? she’s goading, minxy moxie maxed out. This is all it takes to make you cum? There’s a half-choke — a rough buck of your hips. Fingers curl around your shaft — the hum she has in the back of her throat picks up. A little bit of your cock in my mouth? You’re like a tuning fork to it all. You’re dizzy.

And you’d probably die then and there, if not for the last resort of your tongue on Eunseo’s cunt.

It’s one of the only things that levels her, really.

All the build up is cut in half, tempo slowed down to a grind as you swipe long, breathy flicks of your tongue on Eunseo’s pretty pussy. You’re pacing yourself against a water droplet–rhythm in your head. Arms hooked around her thighs, thumbs tracing circles counterclockwise on her skin -

Down.

Build.

Up.

Down.

Swell.

Up.

It’s unholy the noise she makes next.

Too adorable to just leave hanging.

“Look at you, Eunseo,” you taunt, where the start of a stanza would go, and then drop back into cadence — no air for her to respond — tongue back on her slit. 

And against against your mouth, it’s almost like all of the candor is causal — all the forwardness just carefully-crafted camouflage to get you on her cunt — because reduced down to a mewling mess, white-knuckle around your bedsheets, spine arching to get even closer to the flat of your tongue, there is no back talk. Eunseo was yours, her cunt was all yours, and she was so willing to follow.

Doubling your efforts on her heat, lapping against her little pussy, tracing a thumb around her clit -

“Baby,” she whines.

- Eunseo knows she’s coming undone.

And in this full-on, two-part second that you’re completely lucid to -

- she does.

At first, it’s like time’s frozen. You can feel her tense up under your breath, cheat one last gulp of air, tighten her thighs against your forearms.

Then, everything’s in fast forward. Eunseo unravels. She’s scrambling on polyester, looking for a hold, any grip to support her through how hard she’s cumming on your tongue. The words caught in her throat catch up to her, and all the way through her high, she’s conjoining cuss words, peaking into falsetto as you line kisses along her cunt. Son Eunseo melts against you, onto you, unwound and fully fucked.

But never enough to return the favor.

Gracefully sensual, she straddles you, catching herself on your chest, sitting square on your hips, parking up against your length — you’re caught off guard by the sharks.

Plastered against Eunseo’s shirt: an elementary guide to enough shark species to line anyone’s trivia back pocket — Whale, Great White, Mako, Tiger, Basking -

And because now she has to: “My eyes are up here, perv.”

And without hesitation, because this time that’s genuinely low: “Oh, fuck you.”

And not a beat after that, right against your lips, and riding further up your cock: “You only wish.”

Eunseo’s mouth is on yours, and then so’s her tongue. And as she’s exploring your chest with her palms, thumbing at your nipples, you can only smile. You don’t know why you doubted yourself: with Eunseo, there’s no way anything’s a character.

There’s a beat that you both take, and in the next, there’s a shirt over your face.

You’re blinded, covered in SHEIN sheer, and — instincts taking over — you reach your hands out to grab at anything.

You find Eunseo’s waist as she takes you in her pussy.

It’s hot, it’s tight, it’s needy. She’s getting you both back on beat, picking up the pace, up-and-down on your cock, side-to-side on your hips — you’re trying to keep up.

Your grip tightens, and it’s downright unholy: your thumbs touch at her belly button.

She’s so small, so tight, so in your hands, and so fucked, so fucked, so fucked -

“Cum in me,” Eunseo exhales, then suffixes: “in me, in me, in me.”

Your head goes into overdrive — it’s a time bomb: pulsing, racing, tensing; it’s a million miles a second, and so fucking dangerous. You’re gritting your teeth, crushing her waist in your grip -

And because now you have to, and in lossless lucidity: “Eunseo, fuck off.”

She’s so fucked.

And you know in the moment that follows -

How quickly she finds her place under you, picking up where her fingers were last on your cock — kissing, twisting, sucking, her matte white fingernails hypnotic up and down your shaft -

How guttural the moan you let out feels, like it comes from your tailbone -

How hushed the holy shit is on your lips as Eunseo swallows load after milky load -

- how fucked you are, too.

(You always will be.)

--

There’s a little song and dance you play after Eunseo pops back out of the bathroom.

Again: it’s not either of your first times with each other, but like routine — still and forever — you’re falling into characters you know and love.

Eunseo’s laying it on thick, walking like a textbook taught her how to: drummed-up and exaggerated, heel-toe, heel-toe. Hands folded behind her back, she’s in this half-bend, lips pursed, eyes wandering: suddenly fascinated in the brushwork on your walls or how light catches random trinkets, bending over to the left, the right, and just under to make sure their shadows are still there. It’s all but complete, just missing a laid back whistle; it’s all comically stupid, just always the most adorable thing.

Of course — and only after two full minutes of the charade, drawn out and profusely slow-burned; only after you’ve rolled your eyes so hard they might stick, tension just under boiling point — her little exploration leads her to your bed.

And with that kind of setup: anything she said would’ve landed.

So “... you don’t want to put a kid in me …” absolutely does.

Her head’s in your lap now, face cracked in this darling half-giggle.

Outwitting Eunseo is a losing game. You never win. Not against the air that lingers around her, peppered sweet and spicy, intoxicating even when you were both sober. Not against her expert balance of prickly and precious, cutesy-cocky carefully-crafted. Not against the crescents in her eyes when you’re this deep into a bit. You don’t really have to.

She kisses you, and it tastes like the promise of time: that you’ll always have more.

It’s pre-teen sweet, spiked with hands brushing soft spots: it’s goofy, it’s whole, and you’re both giggling — trading tender breaths, sharing secrets in the exhales, melting smiles into each others’.

Here — in between the playful banter, nose-to-nose with Son Eunseo — you’re complete.

“Want a coffee?”

(And it’s probably the only thing you’ve done once and only once. You should make the coffee.)

“I’ll make us two.”

--

:')

feel like everything's been fast paced recently, so hope not cringe to say that this has been a serious refuge for me. domestic... interplay (?) is so fun to explore, and i could probably tease out established relationship footsies switchy blurry lines forever — hope you enjoyed!

thank you @majorblinks for the beta (my twin flame and no one is ever going to do it like us), @chunksworld for giving me the push to write eunseo (guys girl enjoyers!), and @passingnotions for everything in between (u next.)

[shoutmonishere]

*[Bonk sfx]*

[nova2cosmos]

What's your favorite type of candy?

Every sour Candy i Can find

And Tamarin Candy😋

[susartwork]

"missed me?"

Heyo Sus! Jsab-strawberry here, I'm sorry for disappearing

I had to delete my blog due to forces out of my control (family issues mostly), but I'm back now, and I plan on staying longer!

How have you been? It's been a long while

OMG HIIII °waves energetically° Happy to see you again! I hope you doing ok (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

I'm doing fine X3 I've just been a little inactive lately cuz I'm recovering from bournout oof, but I feel so much better now (^w^)

Also also I love this drawing of Alli and your new Wonderland AU redesign so dang much!! DA PRETTIES CAT BOY UwU♡

See you around :DD

[justcruisingaroundrevived]

i loved ur yandere bill fic !! Can u make one about Pete ? <3

Wanna Tear You Apart

Summary: YANDERE! Pete x reader

TW/CW: Stalking, obsessive behavior, mentions of dead animals, self harm (both ends), bones

A/N: Thank you for the request anon! Pete would honestly be the worst yandere overall, so these were especially fun to do honesty!

Reblogs are appreciated!

* Pete would honestly be the scariest yandere out of all the members

* Pete’s love for things violent, bloody, gory and everything in the technicolor rainbow will mean he’s an obvious yandere

* You can feel his presence at any point of the day. Even when he’s hanging out with the club, if he spots you, his eyes are fully on you (if you can catch him, you’ll see that there’s no light in them)

* If he’s alone, expect him to already be at your locker, trying to act all suave, but he’s not. He’s not even doing the right pose, and any “small talk” he does comes off as stiff and uncomfortable.

* Would actively follow you home from school, and you wouldn’t even know it. His small stature makes it easy for him to hide practically anywhere the moment you suspect him watching you (catch him in the act will result in an aloof Pete, complaining “I don’t know my way around this neighborhood.” Before going to a random store)

* Alone in his bedroom, he’ll have fantasies of him being the serial killer and you the final person. Imagining how scared you look as he approaches you, before you two making out with the corpses of your friends underneath him (he definitely has masturbated to that)

* Will stalk you online. Your MySpace, family’s Facebook and even online forums are not safe from Pete. You had to block multiple different accounts because of how persistent they were being (messages going from loving to demanding, knowing personal information about you, possibly sending pictures of gore + deaths from horror movie to scare you)

* Fuck, he’ll probably send you weird gifts to your house (animal bones, an actual human heart, his favorite movies, etc). You throw them out of trash for the most part, but Pete knows you throw it out…he’s just thinks you’re playing hard to get

* Little graphic, but he definitely carved your name onto his hip (at least your initials). He would have to constantly hide it if you two started dating

* Speaking of which, the confessions done in note form. He poorly stuff it in your locker with chocolate he brought from the pharmacy. It’s honestly couple of pages of rambling about what he knows about you and maybe a sentence being “Oh yeah, I like you”

* Accepting it would have him over the moon. Expect him to tackle you and just lay on top of you, talking about how happy he is and how you’re stuck with him like glue

* Would absolutely brag about you to anyone who meets him, especially the club

* The gifts will not stop, but he’s going to try and put some effort into them (maybe bones of your favorite animals, perhaps)

* You would have to keep him on a leash cause he would not be afraid to jump on people and attack them for talking shit about you or him (someone tie him up like Hannibal Lecture)

* If you carved his initials onto your skin, you’ll have his loyalty forever <3

* Good luck, solider. You’re going to need it

[shoutmonishere]

Me and mermaimon fr fr

BSHRHWJBDHWU

Hh

Cool beans man shehshshh

[twstfanblog]

hello! hope the new year has been going well so far!

i would like to make a request; can i ask for a Vil x reader, can be platonic or romantic your choice, where the reader is an artist that has drawn a portrait of everyone EXCEPT for Vil and he just tries to do everything to get the reader to draw him. like, posing more dramatically while doing mundane things or sets up dramatic lighting in a classroom

just to have the reader finally draw him after he gets caught in the rain or something XD

sorry if this is too much, feel free to change anything or ignore

Draw me, I demand it

Vil x Reader

Vil would insist he wasn't petty or Divine forbid, jealous. He was a celebrity, an icon, he knew his worth more than anyone. But to know one of the few people he'd ever dare call his friend seemed to be purposefully excluding him made him a bit...upset.

The prefect was a lovely person, fun to talk to and occasionally had an outsider perspective on the media he was engrossed in. While they didn't have the pleasure to talk often, he considered them fond of each other at least. He did anyhow. That was until he learned from Epel that the prefect was an artist, traditional in sense with the medium of simple pen and paper.

Such a fact had been made know because Epel had shown him a sketch the prefect had done. While it wasnt a masterpiece, Vil wouldn't deny it carried potential and clearly show cased a high amount of skill. It was during the conversation that Epel had stated the prefect had drawn all of them.

So the next day, when their paths had crossed, Vil had asked with a teasing edge to see one of the sketches they had done of him. Thats when he learned Epel was wrong. The prefect had done at least one sketch of everyone from their collective friend group, except him.

He'll admit, he was mad in the moment. But now, days later, he finds himself putting more effort into his makeup and hair in the morning. Wearing new tie and shirt combinations with various patterns and textures. Trying new shoe styles for the sake of the Seven. But nothing seemed to spore the prefect to pull out that damned spiral bond black book and annoyingly powdered yellow pen.

At some point, he had even enlisted Rook to plan and stage worthy environments to spark artistic creation. None of which worked, other than Rook appearing all too happy as he put together an entirely new scrapbook of his own.

It wasn't until the weekend. A torrential downpour had suddenly affected the campus, sending students flocking into buildings and dorms. Vil had been in the middle of another attempt to swoon the prefect into sketching him when the rain started. An hour of crafting a vine and flower arch ruined. By the time they had made it to Ramshackle, they were both nearly soaked through.

So now he sat in the lounge of the rundown dorm, a towel that smelled lightly of mothballs and holding an old mug of cheap hot chocolate being warmed by a fire. The prefect had just stepped in the lounge, mouth open with their own mug before they froze. Then they scurried away, returning with that forsaken notebook and started to scribble.

Vil raised an eyebrow, confused as to what they could possibly be sketching. Looking out the window at his side, Vil noticed in the sanctuary of an overgrown bush and the windows ledge were two butterflies. One noticeably bigger, wings packed with technicolor blues and purples, while the other was a simple silver-grey. He huffed, seeing the cosmic irony of the two insects cuddled together while he sat across the room from his own plain butterfly.

The rain didn't let up. It rained for hours at the same intensity it had started. With his drink gone and the prefect lulled to sleep, Vil finally stood to gently pull their sketchbook from their limp hands. Looking through the pages, he couldn't help but pout at seeing multiple sketches of the others and none of him. But on the newest page, he was met with a picture of him waterlogged, sitting by the fireplace and smiling into the mug of hot chocolate.

"..." Vil chuckled, looking to the sleeping freshman before slipping the book back into their hands, "Silly potato. At least you captured my beauty properly..."

[omegaremix]

Finds For 2016.

Diet Cig “Scene Sick”

Tame Impala “New Person Same Old Mistakes”

Cold Cave ft. Black Rain & Genesis P. Orridge “Comprehension”

Computer Magic “Be Fair”

George Clanton “Notice Me”

Prurient “Dragonflies To Sew You Up”

Tropic Of Cancer “Stay Safe”

Mssingno Scope

Blanck Mass “Atrophies”

Holydrug Couple, The “Follow Your Way”

Russell Haswell “Spring Break Extended“

In Aeternam Vale “Dust Under Brightness”

Sophie Product

Consumer Electronics Dollhouse Songs

Blanck Mass “Dead Format”

Hibou “Above Us”

UXO self-titled

Follakzoid “Directo Al Sol

Moon Duo “Free Action”

Tearist Living: 2009-Present

Deerhunter “Ad Astra”

Beliefs “1992”

Ducktails “Don’t Wanna Let You Know”

Tame Impala “Nangs”

Candy Snatchers, The “If You Can’t Have Fun, You Ain’t Fun” (live)

Shana Falana “There’s A Way”

DOM “Burning Bridges”

Girlpool “Before The World Was Big”

Holydrug Couple, The “Paisley”

Ash Koosha “Harbour”

Dystopian Future Movies “Paint It Red”

Angry Angles “Things Are Moving (All The Time)”

Polysick “Smudge Hawaii”

Kleenex “Nice”

18+ Fore

Innsyter “Cut Eleven”

Airliner “Her Crutch”

Clams Casino “Drawn” (Crim3s RMX)

Com Truise “Silicon Tare”

Crim3s “Stay Ugly”

Johnny Thunders & The Heartbreakers “Born To Love”

Imaginary Pants Kites At Night

Ana Lola Roman “Klutch” (Com Truise RMX)

Costavision Lo-Fi Exotica

Coachwhips “UFO, Please Take Her Home”

Rubs, The “Runaway”

Airliner “Left Orange”

Sheer Mag “Fan The Flames”

JK Flesh Rise Above

Gigi Masin“Tears Of A Clown”

Reatards, The “You Ain’t Fun No Mo’”

Hussy, The “You Know”

Home “Resonance”

TR/ST “This Ready Flesh”

Pastel Ghost “Clouds”

LNDN DRGS “Dope Sick”

Ata Kak Obaa Sima

Hailu Mergia & The Walias “Yemiasleks Fikir”

Christoph De Babalon “Surreal Mirrors”

Gigi Masin “Fata Morgana"

John Carpenter Lost Themes Remixed

Veldt, The “Sanctified”

Zola Jesus “Collapse”

Merzbow & Keiji Haino & Balazs Pandi “How Differ The Instructions Of The Left From The Instructions On The Right”

Cults “Oh My God”

Vektroid “Neo Cali”

FOE “Genie In A Coke Can” (Alec Empire RMX)

Peaches “How You Like My Cut?” (Ziur RMX)

Tex Taiwan “Algorhythm Vision”

Jagwar Ma “Uncertainty” (Mssingno RMX)

Odesza “It’s Only” RMXs

Honeyblood “Sea Hearts”

Connie Laverne “Can’t Live Without You”

Kedr Livanskiy January Sun

Body-San “Shining The Money Ball”

C.V. Jorgensen “Ghetto Svend”

9th Wonder & Buckshot ft. Talib Kweli “Hold It Down”

Uniform “Symptom Of The Universe”

Czarface ft. Vinnie Paz & Cappadonna “Shoguns”

D.I.T.C. “Rock Shyt”

Lizzy Mercier Descloux “Fire”, “Wawa”

David “Baby” Cortez “Happy Organ”

Low Red Center s/t

Alan Turing “God Save The King / Baa Baa Black Sheep / In The Mood”

Dolly Parton “Jolene” (33 RPM)

Tobacco “Gods In Heat”

Pere Ubu “Blow Daddy-O”

La Coka Nostra “Waging War”

Elusive Textures

Technicolor Skull “Technicolor Skull”

Hanin Elias ft. Electrosexual “Hold Me”

IKO 93 “Drag” / “Mutt”

Innsyter Poison Life

Bloom Offering “Bite Their Tongues”

Jlin “Downtown”

Sandro Brugnolini & Stefano Torossi “Effetto Notte”

Comet Gain “(All The) Avenue Girls”

Nick Klein “Anxiety Plae”

Le Matos “Eyes Throat Genitals”

Bill Loose “Slight Misgivings”

L-Fudge Chronic Irresponsibility

Author & Punisher “Lust For Scales”

Sun Ra “The Cosmic Explorer”

Liquids Hot Liqs

Ice Cream Love, Ice Cream

Khost “Deathset” (Godflesh RMX)

Ramleh “Airborne Babel”

L-Fudge ft. DJ Spinna, Shabaam Shadeeq & Talib Kweli “What If?”

Caroline K “Tracking With Close-Ups”

Rosa Yemen “Herpes Simplex”

Jonas Reinhardt “Androma”

Sunrise Ltd. “Our Love Will Grow”

Tearist “Headless”

Red Fetish “Spanish Meths”

Hot Chocolate “Could Have Been Born In The Ghetto”

Vibrators, The “Disco In Moscow”

York Factory Complaint Lost In The Spectacle

Nick Klein I’d Rather Sit Alone

[polycrowtruther]

But the Crossroads was not the place he wrote to her about. Or at least if it was, he had a funny way of describing things. There were small windows, stained glass with an ornate cross, and the light they let in made the room feel technicolor. Like a fun house, or a circus tent. No baked goods lined the counter, instead the tillman was smoking a cigar as he balanced the books from the same bar customers ordered from. It was round, suede, with all sorts of knobs and nozzles behind the counter for drinks to be served. Several bottles of different alcohols were arranged behind him, much stronger than would be expected of a restaurant opened this early. The furniture was plush and ornate, rich shades of maroon and dark woods, but on the walls hung paintings of the desert-style known to the sands of the far corner of Novyi Zem. It didn’t feel like a restaurant, but it wasn’t quite fair to call it a bar, either. The room didn’t feel hostile, but it was a far cry from the picture of warmth and sunlight that Kaz had described in his letters. It felt… well, like a crossroads between it all. A place where danger met safety, where animosity met a knowing smile. A place befitting the hectic city life Ketterdam offered. Alina hoped it still had some good seafood, because as grim as the place felt she knew it would quickly grow on her. Already Alina had decided they’d have to make this their “spot” going further. 

Outside of the man scratching away at his ledger there were only three other patrons in the restaurant. A man with a pointed goatee and golden eyes was sitting at the bar as well, flipping through a book with a bored expression. A glass of juice was beside him, but he didn’t seem much interested in it. At the front a young woman with long black hair was enjoying a pastry still warm from the kitchen. She too had a book in hand she was reading, but unlike the man behind her she seemed fully engrossed in the text. Only the confidence in her muscle memory seemed to guide her fork to her mouth without missing. Alina let her gaze flit over them with little care, because she had already spotted what she had come for. The third individual in the establishment, nursing a lone cup of hot chocolate with a grim expression. Here was why she had crossed the True Sea, why she had clawed her way out of the private quarters of the Palace despite the warnings of all the court officials. Here was one of the closest companions she had known. 

Kaz Brekker looked like he had the day she met him, which given the circumstances of that time wasn’t necessarily a complement.

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

I have a fever and a bloody nose and I just wanted to write something for the serotonin lol

Read Chapter 2 of "Letters to the Saint of Bad Luck"