#the usual bullshit:

[post-punk-revival]

you lifted up my rock and now I have to make a pinned post

About:

This isn't an alterhuman/otherkin blog. It definitely used to be but this has been a personal main (that happens to be run by a nonhuman plural system) for a while now, so alterhumanity is on the list of things we post about frequently just because it's part of our lives. We probably post more about music and antipsychiatry and the biologist from Jeff Vandermeer's Annihilation (due to being normal), I'm a "we" and we're not human but I'm not here to "participate" "in" "community."

This means: We have a lot of interests and zero sideblogs. There's something here for everyone. There's also everything here for no-one. Consider yourself warned

I don't think of myself by any particular name or even really as having one, so anything I call myself or list anywhere are just provided options. Myriad (plural) and Ekho (singular) are safe bets. I go by a few different names and change/add too often to carve anything into stone. You can also call me whatever your heart desires and if I like it I'll keep it

Switching mid-sentence between "me" and "us" for self-referral all the time is normal

This is not an NSFW blog and I am not a big NSFW poster so it's not 18+ only here HOWEVER I myself am farther and farther from 21 with each passing moment and once in a blue moon I may post things under 18+ community labels. If you're a minor it is YOUR responsibility to make sure you gave Tumblr your actual age so you don't see those posts, NOT ours to sift through hundreds of followers checking bios and blocking every one where we can't find a number higher than 18

I'm pretentious in all trades and a college graduate in none. I have trite opinions on erudite subjects. If I start having erudite opinions on trite subjects, take me out back and put me down, I'm sick.

I post bugs. We post bug photos and up-close bug photos. We don't tag them "tw bugs". We definitely don't tag them "horror." No matter what species you think should be the exception. Not even spiders. Especially not centipedes. I am literally a bug and this is a neutral and maybe even cool good thing. I will block you if you call me, photos of my species, or posts about my identity "graphic" or "body horror" and I'm not joking.

FAQ: "What is fictionflickering" See here. "I have something mean to say to you" Yay 💖 "I have something nice to say to you" Setting my self on fire ok "I have something nice to say about your art/writing" That's even more me than I am, haven't I suffered enough "I've decided you're not actually (x) for (y) reason" Duly noted, fragmentizing you

I change drastically a lot. It's normal for us. Don't worry about it. I try not to!

Manic-psychotically not a human. Red-tailed hawk, house centipede, phantasmagorical raven, disordered raccoon, montane wolverine, possibly other things, biological creature that used to not be. Physiologically: not quite anything on its own, actually. Psychologically: a lot of things. Perpetually: figuring things out. If you want to know, you can ask. For followers not familiar with either alterhumanity or schizospectrum conditions: "clinical lycanthropy" is an acceptable starting point.

Favorite hobbies include getting lost in the woods, bastardizing aphorisms, becoming the very thing I sought to destroy, destroying the very thing I sought to become, romanticizing the tormentuous, metaphorizing the objective, and iNaturalist :>

Audiophagic arthropod, ichthyopathic carnivore, birdthing, feathered quadruped, flesh-cento, frequently fictional, former ghost, satellite that came back wrong, capable of passing the Turing test on a good day, homesick for Europa on a bad one, enjoys becoming concepts, alleged "complicator," undiscovered deep sea invertebrate falling in love with the sky. Constant process of esotericizing.

פֿון טײַך ביזן ים װעט פּאַלעסטינע פֿרײַ זײַן

Current blog title: quote by Alan Watts

Current banner is "The Most Unwanted Painting" by Komar and Melamid, part of a satirical series of paintings and songs based on poll results of what people liked and didn't like to see in their art; most people polled disapproved of abstract or modern art.

Current PFP is by yours tuly (I forget to update this part a lot, this may be outdated)

We've also been: swiftfoxn (Nov 2020–Nov 2021) → novachaim (Nov 2021–Feb 2022) → technodance (for like a week) → chrysochus (Feb 2022–Aug 2022) → hraefngeyst (Aug 2022–Feb 2023) → a8c3bc (Feb 2023–May 2023) → stillflight (May 2023–Jun 2024) → myriadeyed (Jan 2024–Oct 2024 <3) → fallingsatellive (Oct 2024–Dec 2024) → radiocmyk (Dec 2024–Jan 2025) → post-punk-revival → ???

"LOVE THIS PLACE OR IT WILL KEEP YOU"

[carsonjonesfiance]

“This thing is legally dubious and therefore technically unenforceable.” Is not a “useless liberal gotcha” it’s how legalism works in this country. Tying up stupidly worded EOs in court is the quickest way to keep them from being implemented. It is the definition of “doing something.” But it doesn’t usually involve much tweeting so of course a certain type of leftist feels obligated to mock it.

[seatoss]

It's not diving underwater, but he still looks pretty good swimming and burrowing up like a mole.

[bigfatbreak]

update on patreon!

[pcktknife]

clip studio on ipad is actually really good guys 😰

[choccy-milky]

ty to @icedmatchawoatmilk13 for sending this to me! i may have gone a bit overboard but this was so much fun to fill out/think about BAHAHA💖 ill still never get over how perfect the song sarah smiles is for them...the lyrics AND the fact that its an alliteration...im gonna do an animatic about seb and clora to that song one day i swear 😩 ((blank template by oakwolves!))

[thesilveregg]

I can’t believe goodtimeswithscar gave birth to twins. Congrats king

[adriartts]

hes always out pouting in the sheepyards

[cerebral-device]

-Left My Heart at the Sierra Madre-

This was a project for my Illustration class using the concept of figure ground

[shakingparadigm]

I'm really enjoying these new glimpses of Till where he seems rather calm? Naturally he still has big feelings and expresses them accordingly, but compared to past instances it's a lot less explosive.

Most of Ivan and Till's fights seem to happen when they're younger. This is most likely because they weren't familiar with each other yet and were still at the age where most things were taken at face value. They're still getting used to each other's "strangeness", and that could be the cause for certain misunderstandings.

By the time Ivan started developing his "attractive" persona, he was much more aware of what made Till tick. Instead of toning down on his behavior, he used it to his advantage.

Throughout childhood, all Ivan knew was that if he performed certain actions he would get a response from Till (whether he intended it or not). Their shenanigans were incredibly childish, but they made a prominent impact on Ivan's perspective. His thoughts gradually transitioned from "I didn't know" to "oh. this is what I need to do so that Till will notice me."

Despite maturing a great amount and presenting a princely image to everyone else, Ivan never grew up when it came to Till. He continued to apply the same tactics from childhood just to keep Till's attention.

This is why the Anakt Diaries mention that though Ivan is mature for his age, he acts childishly when he's with Till. It's what he knows best.

As they grew older, they both became more fine-tuned to certain aspects regarding each other. Ivan understood what would get a rise out of Till and began messing with him on purpose, hoping to get a reaction. Unfortunately for him, Till started getting used to it (for the most part).

Despite his rebelliousness and bold expression, Till is timid when it comes to people. He only attacks when provoked, and unfortunately for someone as sensitive as him, that's quite often. Ivan took great joy in poking and prodding at him until they resorted to pulling hairs.

However, an older Till seems much less inclined to attack a pestering Ivan. In fact, he seems to brush it off suprisingly well. Of course he reacts, but he no longer reacts violently.

He goes back to a neutral (probably mildly annoyed, definitely weirded out) state almost immediately afterwards. The important part is that no hands are thrown. At this point, it's been years of Ivan and Till knowing each other. Till has watched Ivan grow from this gloomy little boy to the literal "Prince Charming" of Anakt, yet one thing has always remained the same: Ivan stayed by his side. Whether they like it or not, being close for so long will eventually endear someone to another. Thanks to the Ivan Exposure Therapy (and probably a bit of his own growing maturity), Till isn't so phased by Ivan's antics anymore. At the very least he seems to reply instead of taking full offense, poking fun at Ivan's lack of a birthday instead of just saying no. Older Till seems less irritated and more like he's just exasperated. Familiar, accustomed to Ivan's presence.

@geospiral already made a great post about what Ivan's side of this whole development might have been like. It's really interesting, so I recommend checking it out!

[stealingyourbones]

Watching Loki. I’m on episode 4 and I’m trying to see what the hype was about

[comicaurora]

So I’m reading The Green Knight for my Medieval English lit class and I went back and watched your Arthuriana videos for fun nostalgia, but I noticed when you were covering the Green Knight you called Arthur tired. Was there a specific reason why you did that or is that one of those things that, if you decided to redo that video, you would change? I just found it interesting bc the poem clearly states Arthur as boyish and his reason for initially accepting the challenge was pride.

The character of King Arthur that lives in my head has a little more "has been through the Arthuriana timeloop too many times" malaise than any proper characterization of King Arthur in the original stories. The story drifts and changes over time but Camelot always falls, because Arthur is a good king - some would say the perfect king - but that still isn't good enough.

[levemetal]

Dual calamities Qijiu AU save me.... save me Dual Calamity Qijiu...

Yes they are wearing each other's former coats/outer layer and tons of matching accessory and garment pieces why do you ask

Details under the cut/Rambling ahead

Dual calamities AU, post pidw. SJ kills himself on the shards of Xuan Su by swallowing them. Qijiu end up entwined into one ghost amalgamation, their combined regrets hatred spite and resentment and everything creating a nearly supreme/calamity level ghost. They go off indiscriminately murdering in the demon realm in a mindless unaware rampage, consuming ghosts and demons alike and becoming stronger until they are strong enough to be aware once more.

Luo Binghe becomes aware of the new calamity too late, due to his distraction with the Bingge vs Bingmei extra happenings, and ends up regretting it as he fails to catch up to them time and time again, despite attempting to chase down the new calamity that slaughtered half the demons in a mindless rage.

It could go down the Bingqijiu path or be simply Qijiu retreating somewhere to live in peace. Maybe being annoyed later on by Hua Cheng and/or He Xuan, maybe even Bai Wuxiang once. They kick Qi Rong off a mountain once, when he comes to annoy them for the title only to prove that is not a calamity (unfortunately for him, ily stinky green ghost). SJ is gonna have the time of his life roasting his ass. Qi Rong will leave both in pieces and tears.

Their only disadvantage really is that they cannot seperate too much, physically. But I imagine after being in each other's brains after the soul merge they don't particularly care to be (nor would they want to be. This is Qijiu we're talking about.) It's Qijiu's codependant dream. Xuan Su sewed them together and actually they are very very codependant and possessive after everything so this is just fine. They probably even have a Xuan Su blood weapon, that heeds both their commands and calls. While fighting they synchronise, with YQY being the strength and SJ the brains.

I imagine YQY is able to conjure the arrows that pierced him as spiritual projectiles, and SJ chains that bound him in the water prison. Their strength was cultivated by absorbing and devouring other ghosts and demons.

@ace-shenanigans came up with the lovely title "jade dragon stalks bamboo" which is a much better title than I could ever hope to come up with. Thank you for listening to my mad ramblings

I've been wanting to draw and think on this for a while, of how grotesque to make the initial ghost + the later higher cultivation form. But basically the kiln and everything would count them as one ghost, probably a dual title too. They'd be like a myth amongst the realms, retreating to a comfortable mountain peak with bamboo, occassionally off to hunt down slavers.

[supermanshield]

This is just two dads and their son

World's finest #177

[sloasis]

Notice how Buck didn't flinch when Eddie grabbed his shoulder and pointed a finger in his face . Notice how much he trusts him . He knew Eddie wasn't going to fucking do anything but just yell in his face a little bit . He knows Eddie , he KNOWS he's not violent , or would hit ANYBODY he loves when he's upset . Because he WOULDN'T . He would NEVER and WILL never . Plus Buck LET him do that , to let him let it all out . That's what Eddie really needed , and Buck knew that . Think about that for a second you dumb fucks who are saying Eddie's abusive and will physically hurt Buck or anybody else he loves . And don't even bring up the illegal fight club shit because that was NOT about just fighting and hurting people , it was about hurting himself and his grief . His grief canonically manifests itself in anger directed towards himself that also outbursts to other people when he feels cornered . You simply just do NOT know Eddie Diaz , so stop fuckin speaking on him . Also , not everything deserves an on screen apology btw , yes in an ideal world an apology is always the first step but if you just use your brain , bringing back Chris and having dinner with Aunt Pepa with Buck WAS the fucking apology . They are best friends , best friends have fights , best friends make up , AND they love each other , whether it be platonically or romantically , that doesn't matter because it's still true . If you love someone you will forgive them , if you love someone you would let them show their emotional vulnerability even if it is an outburst , if you love someone you let them make it up to you . Clearly some of you people on here have never experienced this . Now , I'm done lmao . Just my entire dash today has been this fucking discourse over this one scene . How about we understand that every character is flawed , they ALL have their outburstive angry moments and it's dramatic on purpose , and move on . Nobody needs to always share their unnecessary fucking opinions on every fucking thing this show does . Enjoy the show or don't . These characters ( buddie ) know each other to their fucking core , so if you don't like that and want to villainize one of them to fit your narrative of him being some kind of evil fucking guy , simply fuck off and go watch something else dude . Go watch some my little pony , there's no evil Hispanic-Scandinavian man there for you to hate on for absolutely no reason .

[kusanagihaku]

all of you, all of me 

⭢ haku x mc, 4.2k

“Love the sounds you make for me, princess, love the way you say my name–“ Haku tips his forehead onto yours, pants into your shared breath. The dim lamplight dances between his lashes, shines in the dilated gold of his eyes and the sheen of his sweat, as if the entire concept of light itself is as in love with Haku as you are.  or: you walk into haku's room to see your gift wrapped up in a pretty little bow. on ao3 here / masterlist.

aaaAAAAAAAHHHHH i know i said smut was too difficult for me to write but @td-art-storage did this for my birthday and altered my brain chemistry forever i'm afraid... not a day has passed since then that i don't think of this piece of art... so this was born... head in hands haku kusanagi the things u do to me...

｡°⚠︎°｡ minors dni!! ｡°⚠︎°｡

“Come in.” 

The wooden screen door glides open silently under the lightest touch of your fingers. You murmur a responding coming in… only to see Haku, spread lazily on his futon, with his back against the wall and his hands in front of him bound in smooth purple ribbon. 

Your eyes catch on the neat silk bow resting on his wrists. 

Who– what– who tied him up? Did he do it himself? Did he ask someone to do it for him? Was it Subaru? Why– What– 

“Staring isn’t free, you know,” Haku’s voice breaks the rush of your thoughts; when you tear your gaze away from his bound hands, the smirk that unfurls across his face sends a flush up your neck. 

You turn to shut the door, just to give your hands something to do, but you feel the heat crawl up your cheeks all the same. Whatever you expected when your boyfriend texted you to come over to Hotarubi, it was not this. 

When you turn back, Haku has sat up. His collar is tugged wide open, vest long cast aside for exposed collarbones and black undershirt. His eyes skate down your figure as you approach, avoiding the piles of open books on the floor – they catch on the edge of your uniform before sliding back up to meet yours. 

His tongue flicks out to wet his lips.  

You swallow. 

“What’s this?” You kneel down next to his futon, knees landing on the soft of his duvet. Your fingers hover over the purple silk. It is dyed an almost-grey in the half-light spilling out from the floor lamp beside Haku’s bed, a gentle wrapping that looks at first intentional and snug, but on closer inspection like it will fall apart the moment you touch it. 

Haku lifts his hands towards you, grinning. “Happy birthday, princess.” 

It pulls a startled laugh out of you – you’d nearly forgotten, in your haste to find an umbrella and get to Haku’s room, that it is mere hours before your birthday. You lean in to kiss him. “Thank you. A thoughtful gift.” 

Haku hums, smile sweet against yours. “I’m kidding, by the way. Your gift is on my desk.” 

“Hmm,” you say, and kiss him again. You make no move to get off his bed. “Guess I should be glad you don’t go around gifting people yourself for their birthdays.” 

Haku groans slightly as you shift towards him, shedding your blazer and tie and swinging one leg over the spread of his thighs to settle yourself in his lap. His voice drops as he leans forward, chasing for another kiss. “Only for you, princess.” 

The pet name sends a thrill up your thighs, the same way it always does. 

Your hands curl around his cheeks, brush his hair away from his face, bring him closer for a soft, chaste kiss, but Haku shifts under you, lifting his thighs so you slide even closer to him, trapping his hands between your bodies. His teeth catch against your lower lip as he dives in, wet heat of his tongue seeking, demanding entrance. 

You could lose yourself in him forever, you think, your shared gasps and breaths slipping in and out of the silk of your lungs. His tongue curls around yours, tender, needy; when you pull away from him eventually, dizzy and panting, you don’t miss the string of saliva connecting you. 

God, Haku. His cheeks are flushed, eyes trained on the spit-slick of your lips. The world could come crashing down around you and he wouldn’t notice. 

You grind once, slowly, intentionally, downwards. 

Haku’s head shoots up, gold eyes burning into yours as his lips part. His hands move, an aborted motion to reach to grab your hips, but he stops, frowning.  

Your eyes follow where he’s looking, and you can’t help but laugh. Your fingers trace the ribbon. “Whose idea was this, anyway?” 

Haku tips his head onto your shoulder, eyelashes fluttering against your skin. “Mine. Searched up a tutorial and everything.” His nose bumps your neck; he inhales deeply. 

The image of Haku focussing on a tiny screen, long fingers weaving purple ribbon around the pale of his wrists like he weaves ume mizuhiki cords, makes you laugh again. You press a kiss against the green of his hair, then, purposefully, grind your hips against his again, a slow, agonising motion. “Then we shouldn’t let that effort go to waste, should we?” 

The groan Haku lets out shudders through his entire being. He could easily tear himself free of the ribbons, you know, but he doesn’t. He straightens up to look at you, instead, eyes half-lidded and dark. “As you wish, your highness.” 

It should make you laugh. Instead the rasp of his voice paints the inside of your hips with gasoline, leaves you gasping for air. You press your thighs together in an effort to stop the burn from building, but– ah– in the process you again brush firmly against the hardness building in Haku’s pants. 

The friction, the pressure of Haku’s hard-on against your core draws stars out from behind your eyelids, and a soft moan from your lips. Your fingers dance from his shoulders to his bulge before you pause. 

“Haku,” you say, breathless; the heat of his name melts like butter on the tip of your tongue. “Can I–“ 

“Please,” Haku murmurs, and surges forward to kiss you again, open-mouthed and panting, before you climb off his lap. 

You make quick work of his pants, tugging them off and flinging them off to some corner of the room before lying between his legs, returning your attention to where his cock stands, flushed tip curved deliciously against the white of his shirt. 

No matter how many times you’ve seen it, the thought of taking his weight on your tongue still makes your mouth water. 

When you take his head into your mouth he groans. “God, so warm, so perfect–“

His fingers find their way to your hair, a gentle tangle that weighs on your head, presses his cock just a little bit further into the wet of your mouth. It is a silent request, one you know all too well – you obediently open your mouth, sinking slowly around the musk of his length until your nose hits the hand you have wrapped around his base. 

You breathe, once, twice. 

And then you swallow. 

“Ah–“ Haku’s hips jerk minutely, hitting the back of your soft palate before your kiss-swollen lips slide back up the slick of his shaft and slip off his tip with a pop. The spit coating his entire cock makes pumping your hand up and down so much easier – you manage two or three pumps before you take Haku into your mouth again, swirling your tongue around his tip before suckling lightly around his length. “So good for me, princess, mouth made just for me–“ 

The gravel of his voice, low and breathless and burning, runs its notes down the scale of your spine. It settles deep in the wreath of your ribs, sings itself home between your legs; it tucks itself into the hollow of your cheeks as you wrap your lips around him, sucking gently as you make your way up and down his cock. 

The pace you set at the start is too slow and torturous, even for you – before you know it your tongue is flattened, taking Haku deep into the night of your mouth, warm and wet and tight, hitting his length against the back of your throat again and again and again until you hear him panting praises above you, fingers in your hair tightening and pulling almost desperately–

You look up at him. 

In the dim light he is lined with gold. It clings to his hair, diffuses through the edges of him like he is but an extension of light itself, soft and flushed and aching in the halo of the night. It slides its way into the flush of his cheeks, the half-brush of his eyelashes, the vowels of your name slipping through his parted lips. It drips into the way Haku is coming undone, the way he untangles his bound hands from your hair, palms pressed together and trembling from the moans vibrating around the thick of his cock.  

The way he looks at you, all golden and burning, you feel like you are looking into the sun. 

Haku told you about his name last week, hand over hand over ink-stained calligraphy brush, chest pressed against your back. His lips found the curve of your neck the way the brush kissed the paper – light, controlled, graceful. 伯. This is a man standing next to white, he said, a man seeking sheltered day. His hand moves your hand, moves the brush.It leaves a trail of wet ink behind that gathers on the thin white paper and between your legs. A man begging to enter the house of the sun, to hold the warmth of sunlight in the pool of his hands. 

His hands had slipped, then, away from the blackened ink-stone and under the white of your uniform shirt, squeezing, teasing. 

How silly Haku is, you think, for calling you his sunlight, when all you revolve around begins and ends with him. 

This is 玖, he whispered, later, lips pressed into the inside of your thigh, breath skating over your clothed core. A king on the edge of his future, a king bent at the knee. A king facing down the passage of time, bargaining so he can have forever with you. 

You had shivered then, as Haku wrote his name between your folds, the brush of his tongue marking you, slow and desperate. 

He shivers now. 

You trace your name onto his tip with your tongue, swirl the syllables of his name around his shaft. You hum around the addictive taste of him, sweet and salty and bitter and Haku, flicking your tongue over and over where his tip is leaking for you. His hips shudder under your palms, aftershock of your moans rippling into the clench of his hands. 

Haku groans, eyes half-focussed on the sunset of your lips. “Princess.” 

You pull off of him. You murmur against the velvet of his skin, the weight of his cock sticky and warm against your cheek, “Haku.” 

“If you continue– ah, princess– ah,“ you pause the open-mouthed kisses you are leaving on the thick vein running down the side of his cock, just so he can finish his sentence, “if you continue like this I’m gonna– I’m gonna end up cumming in your mouth.” 

You hum, moving to lick the bead of pre-cum that swells up from his slit, leaving a feather-light kiss on his tip. “And?” 

Haku’s bound wrists find your chin. They tilt your head up, so you can properly see the sweat plastering his hair to his forehead, his eyebrows knit tightly in restraint. His voice drops when he leans forward, eyes searing into yours, nearly folding himself in half as he murmurs, “Wanna cum inside you, princess.” 

Fuck. 

His words swell inside you, something urgent and intense and desperate that licks flames up your throat – you scramble to your knees, pressing your lips against his like his breath is the only salvation that can put them out. 

It is all clash and bold, unrelenting and reckless, as he licks into you, and even as Haku rips the ribbon on his wrists apart and his hands find the buttons of your uniform and you gasp the heat of his name, his lips never once leave the salt of your skin, bruising and licking and marking any part of you that is within reach. 

Haku may be the colour of fall, you think, but whenever his mouth is on you the sparks that explode behind your eyes will always be the fireworks of summer, blooming like the sweet of spring. 

And at last– at last, he yanks your bra off your frame, mouth hot on your sensitive chest and fingers slipping under your uniform skirt to grab at your waist– 

“Ah– Haku,” you gasp, dizzy, legs parting to hump against nothing–

And suddenly you are on your back, Haku hovering above you, gaze ringed gold and hungry. His hands manoeuvre you effortlessly, parting your legs as his eyes devour the way you burn under his touch, a feast dishevelled and keening. 

You whimper when you feel his fingers tugging the elastic of your underwear, pulling it off your waist. He lifts your hips to slide the soaked scrap of fabric off, exposing your aching core to the cold air of the room–

He pauses. 

At what point does a human become an angel? When they paint the names of all the deities you know onto the roof of your mouth, when they hang stars behind the whites of your eyelids? 

When their every touch fills you with a want that burns like hellfire, fills your tongue with prayers, the rough pads of their flute-callused fingers ghosting over where you need them the most? 

Or when they are poised above you, gilded in soft lamplight and framed in the quiet drizzle of rain, green hair swept back and gold eyes staring at you in wonder like you were crafted at the shrines of gods themselves? 

“So beautiful,” your angel exhales. His fingers brush across the marks he has sucked into your skin. “Love it when you’re spread out like this for me, so good, so perfect–“ 

You whine at the goosebumps his fingers leave behind, wrap your legs around his waist in an effort to get him to touch. “Only for you, Haku, please–“ 

He has the audacity to laugh, red threads of his earrings shaking with mirth, before he leans down to kiss you, gentle, chaste, loving. 

Oh, but when he slips his cock between your folds it is anything but. His fond smile turns into a groan almost immediately – the wetness that leaks from your entrance coats his cock, sends both of you reeling from want. His tip jerks along your slick, accidentally smearing your essence up and down his length; Haku curses before gripping the base of his cock, tapping it once, twice, onto the nub of your clit. 

“Haku– want you, ah–“ your back arches with every electric touch, every brush of his head against your entrance. You try to push yourself impossibly closer to him, eyes rolling back as you try to grind yourself onto the hard curve of his cock–

And then he is sinking home. 

Haku pushes into you, slowly, perfectly, the thick of his cock sending sparks into your vision as you mold yourself around him. You cry out in pain and pleasure at the stretch, nails scrabbling on his forearms and his name falling like rain from your tongue; no matter how many times he enters you you’ll never get used to the feeling of Haku stretching you out, the feeling of yourself unfurling around him and pulling him in.  

When he bottoms out in you, inch after delicious inch, you think you see stars. 

Haku’s lips find your temple as he waits for you to adjust to the feeling of fullness. “You fit me so well, baby, take me so well, so perfect for me, always–“

The rough groan in his voice shoots straight down your spine, making you throb tightly around every ridge of his cock.

“Fuck, princess–“ His hands grip your waist, fingers digging into the fat for a moment before he lets go, sliding up your sides to fondle your breasts instead. “Won’t last long if you keep doing that.” 

The gentle graze of his thumbs over your nipples have you squirming underneath him, unrepentant, lost in the sensations he paints across the fever of your skin. If anything, you clench even tighter around his length, trying to rock your hips so you can get the friction you crave. You can’t help the whine in your voice as you pant, “Haku, need you– move–“ 

He laughs again, a choked, breathy rumble that echoes through your nerve endings, “Anything for you.” 

When he starts moving– oh– every drag of his cock against your walls drives a hum up the base of your spine. He hits all the sweetest spots in you like he has mapped out your entire body by cock alone; the slow waves of pleasure each thrust gives you have you fluttering around his length, sucking him in like you never want to let him go, like you want to be brimming full of him always. 

The groan Haku lets out is absolutely wrecked. He intertwines the fingers of his free hand with yours, brings your hand up to his lips. He leaves one, two, three kisses on the knuckles of your ring finger, hot breath fanning against where he’d leave a ring. 

Your heart skips–

But then he is lifting your hips, sliding a pillow underneath your tailbone, curve of his cock sliding into you at a completely different angle, hitting just the right spot and making your vision swim– 

“So warm, so tight, drives me fucking insane–“ Haku groans into your neck. His hand leaves your waist for a moment; you’re too distracted to notice until you feel the pad of his thumb brushing against your clit, a small, circular movement that sends all rational thought into flames. 

The burn of his hands and his mouth and his cock all at once is too much for you – you dig your nails into his biceps, run them up his back, tangle them into his hair, find any– any way to not lose yourself to the inferno he has lit between your legs that threatens to wipe your vision and consume you whole. Your head falls back, mouth falling open in pleasure; your lips round out broken worship as his tongue find home on the column of your throat. You whimper his name, breathy and begging, each thrust of his cock punctuating needy ah-ah-ahs from the fire in your lungs. 

“Love the sounds you make for me, princess, love the way you say my name–“ Haku tips his forehead onto yours, pants into your shared breath. The dim lamplight dances between his lashes, shines in the dilated gold of his eyes and the sheen of his sweat, as if the entire concept of light itself is as in love with Haku as you are. 

God, Haku. He looks at you the same way you feel – like every cell of your body has passed through the storm of his love and came out the other side, charged and alive, singing for him, melting for him, pointing home. 

His hands slip under you. You feel the calluses of his long fingers run along the dips of your back, play the slope of your spine like the ivory of his flute. They skate along your waist, your backbone, the nape of your neck as he nudges your jaw, mouthing up the side of your throat and suckling on the smooth skin like you are the sweetest thing he has ever allowed himself to taste. 

His fingertips find the raised bumps of your curse mark. They trace it up to where it has begun to spill into the curve between your shoulder and your neck. 

His hips falter, for just one second.

It stretches the way time does, an old familiar ache that settles like dust in the spaces between your blinks, echoes in the drum of the rain on creaky Hotarubi ceiling. It reminds you that you are nothing but a walking ghost, warmed only by the time left trickling through the hearth of Haku’s hands– 

But then Haku is snapping his hips against yours, harder, faster, deeper, feather-light touch against your curse mark long gone, bruising into you like he can drive the curse out of your skin by willpower alone. He buries himself into you, gasping and groaning, like the melody of his skin slapping against yours is enough a reminder of how human you are, how human you can still be. 

“Beautiful, so good,–“ Haku’s cockhead rams into the most delicious parts of you again and again, hitting the perfect spongy spot. It turns your vision blurry, has you losing all language to overwhelming desire. Your combined slick reduces any resistance between you, letting Haku fuck into you with increasing desperation. “You’re so perfect, princess, you’ll always be the one for me–“  

A gasp tears from your throat as his fingers find your clit again, tears slipping out from the corner of your eyes with every circle he rubs into your sensitive bud. You can barely keep track of the babbling that spills out from your mouth, eyes rolling back as you clench around him. “Yours, Haku, ah– yours– always been yours, ever since that first day–“ 

Haku curses, grip on your waist tightening– 

Perhaps what you will miss the most at the very end will be this: the warmth of Haku’s hands on you, the way he fills you, fits into you like you have never been made for anything else. The way he gathers you, chants your name against your skin like if he doesn’t touch you he might forget how to breathe. 

The kiln and hearth of his eyes, the gold of his laugh. The way time stops for you whenever you exhale his name in desperate prayer, your hands and heart in his, his hands and heart in yours. The way Haku has folded his days and nights around you like you have dressed every one of your sunsets and sunrises with the thought of him. The way he has carefully woven himself into you, wrapped his gold into the spaces between your heartbeats and the silver of your lungs. 

The way Haku reminds you, over and over again, that love is not just a noun but a verb. 

You tighten impossibly around him, coil between your legs winding itself tighter and tighter at the thought; Haku swells inside you, heartbeat throbbing through his leaking cock at the way you cry out his name, desperate, devoted. “Fuck, princess–“  

“Haku– ah– Haku, I’m–“ 

He reaches up to brush your hair away from your eyes, thumb stroking your cheekbone as he holds you, “I know, princess, feel you getting so tight– come on, cum for me–“

All at once the intensity explodes, shuddering through your entire body. Your vision goes white, sparks burning through your throat as his name tears its way out of your lungs, rips through all coherent thought like a tsunami. Your back arches off the bed, toes curling as you ride out the waves of your orgasm, shocks of pleasure radiating up your nerves like the sun itself has exploded inside of you. 

And in a way it has – the way you clench around Haku as you come undone sends him toppling into his own orgasm. He presses his gasps against the glow of your skin, lips searing into you as your tightness milks rope after rope of warm cum from his cock. He paints your insides a brightness you have only ever known from him, pumps you full of a heat that you have craved ever since he first gave it to you.

Now that you’ve flown this close to the sun, you think, there is nothing stopping you from falling into ruin for him, over and over again. 

Haku groans your name against your pulse point, hips stuttering and thumb on your clit slowly grinding to a stop as you both catch your breaths, bodies melting together as you slowly come down from your highs. 

You bury your nose into where the light has painted his hair a warm monochrome, inhale the soft sandalwood and musk and salt. “Love you.” 

You feel him smile against your skin, arms coming up to wrap around your waist, holding you tightly against him. “Love you, too. Always will.” 

A giddy smile floats to your lips when he presses a tender kiss above your heart; it disappears like spun sugar in the casual honey-water of Haku’s words and leaves the roof of your mouth feeling some type of sweet. “Happy birthday to me, then.” 

Haku laughs at that, rumble in his chest vibrating through your entire body. You tangle your fingers into his hair, smiling before wincing at the stickiness where you are joined. 

“Haku,” you manage, wiggling under him. You feel your combined cum leaking out from your hole, dripping out around him to puddle onto the base of his cock with every movement. “Heavy.” 

He doesn’t pull out, not yet – he smiles lazily, lifting himself up just enough to press a kiss to your swollen lips before deftly flipping the both of you over so you are pressing down on him, instead. 

You gasp, warm cum oozing out of you as you brace your weight on his shoulders. “Haku!” 

Haku just grins at you like he has all the time in the world. He jerks his hips up into you once, twice,  stuffing his cum back in, cock twitching back to life in you as he revels in the way you inhale sharply above him. 

“Who says we were done, princess?”