suppliesoutletinc-blog

[taintandviolent]

Can you do a Frat!Kyle smut where reader is chubby, and it's just really slow and sweet. Like maybe both Kyle and the reader are desperate, but he's a little too big and he starts going slower, giving reader kisses and such. Stuff like that? I LOVE UR WRITING SO MUCH MWAH MWAH!! 💋 Tysm if you do decide to write this, you can choose the setting and background and what not

warnings: alcohol mention. unprotected sex. female receiving. uhhh nothing really else this is very mild for me.

The light filtered through Kyle's fluffy blonde curls as he turned, making them almost shimmer. He looked back at his group of friends, smiling that adorable, lopsided grin. They were schmoozing with a group of girls, all who looked nothing like you. In fact, the way they looked made you instantly insecure. Why was Kyle Spencer talking to you? Was this some kind of prank? 

"I'm not your type, am I?" 

He turned back to you, his brows furrowed. It was clear that the statement confused him. "Whaddya' mean?" 

"You know... all skinny, and blonde and pretty. I'm not like them." Subconsciously, you pulled at the fabric of your dress, loosening it. 

"Huh," he said, nodding. "If I wanted a girl like that, I'd be with my buddies over there."

He said it with such genuinity that you believed him, the way his extra-dark chocolate eyes stared into yours, warm and sincere, melting you into a puddle of pliability. He reached for your hand, tugging it away from the grip it had on your dress. 

“Why do you think I’m talking to you? Be honest.” 

“I don’t know, maybe it’s a joke or a dare. Go flirt with the fat girl – “ 

“Don’t. Don’t talk like that. You are…” He glanced over your body, heavy-lidded and hungrily. There was no denying the truth in his gaze, the desire and the want in it. He didn’t finish his sentence, but he didn’t need to. You understood. He kissed you first. He kissed you by the makeshift bar, taking the red Solo Cup out of your hands and setting it behind you. His hands trailed down to your ample, plush hips, laying softly atop of them. He broke the kiss to speak, seeming slightly nervous. 

“Hey, so… you uh… wanna’ go upstairs? You can say no…” 

“I know I can say no, Kyle.”

“I know, I was just… saying.” 

You nodded, looking at his lips. He led you around the people, around the tables, and up the winding staircase. Passing door after door, until you finally got to his. He opened it, letting you in first, and you took the first few seconds to admire the little things that made him him. You didn’t get long though, because as soon as he’d shut it, he pressed you against the back of his door, kissing you with a desperation that made your core ache and tighten. 

“I’m kinda’ obsessed with you… sorry, I’m not trying to come on too strong, I just….” His hands explored you, hungrily taking fistfuls of everything he touched. “...want you.” For once, you felt like the pretty girl, the desired one. You bumped your head against his door, letting out a breathy moan. 

“Can I…?” 

You chuckled under your breath. He asked for permission for everything, defying the predetermined ideas you’d had of a frat boy, shattering all the commanding, insistent urges that you’d expected him to have. Sure, he had urges and a raging hard-on, but Kyle was different… in so many ways. 

“Please.” You affirmed. 

The tips of his fingers made quirk work of finding your cunt, rubbing it through the fabric of your underwear. He trailed his middle finger over the soft mound of your pussy, before trailing along the outline of the slit. You were so warm, and the lower he ventured, the wetter it got. With a groan and a push of hips into yours, Kyle slipped his hand into your panties. He inserted one finger, slowly, feeling every inch of your hot cunt as it clenched around his digit. 

He only fingered you for a few moments before he pulled his hand from your underwear, and immediately began kissing you again, wrapping his arms around your lower back. You whimpered into the kiss, rutting your hips against his. You could feel the rigid outline of his cock against your thigh as he ground against you. 

“Kyle, can we lay down?” 

He nodded, excitedly, his blonde curls bouncing on his forehead. “Yeah! Yeah, we totally can.” 

After guiding you to the bed, Kyle pulled his navy blue shirt over his head, and the undershirt followed. You watched from the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows. He had a toned, but stocky build and the muscles flexed as he undressed. In nothing but his boxers now, he crawled up to you from the bottom of the bed, a devious, playful smirk on his face. He took his time pulling your panties from around your hips before tossing them behind him. They landed on the corner of his TV. 

“C’mere,” you said. “I want you.” 

Once he was above you, you took hold of his cock, pumping it a few times before guiding it towards your entrance. The hot, leaking tip pressed into you and Kyle bucked his hips once before your muscles contracted. The burning stretch was too much, the harsh and abrupt ache of his cock as it sunk into you was alarming. 

“Wait, wait…!” you whined, stuttering and backing your hips into the mattress. It took you a few moments, but finally, you managed to say what you’d been trying for. “You’re… you’re um… too big.” 

Kyle let out a breathy chuckle, his head hanging between his bare shoulders. He always thought he was average length, but he knew his cock was girthy. Was an apology appropriate? He’d rather be too big than too small, and hear ‘Is it in yet?’ like some of the horror stories he’d heard from buddies. 

“Do you want me to stop?” His voice was subdued, gentle. Concerned. “Wait, have you ever…. Are you a –” 

“N-no!” You bit your lip. “No… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. I um,” you paused, brushing your hair away from your cheek. “I’m not. I want you really bad, Kyle, I’m just… nervous.” 

Kyle took the hint and shushed you with a kiss. His plush, pink lips pressing into yours with an unspoken understanding, warm and soft. You leaned upwards into him, your mouth giving way to his. He tasted faintly of beer, but there was a warm sweetness in his saliva that made you run your tongue along his, hungrily searching for more. 

He broke the kiss and moved to your neck, slowly peppering kisses along the nape of it, taking his time to savour the soft fragrance of whatever perfume you’d put on before the party. You were everything he dreamt about, from the softness of your hips to the fullness of your breasts. If he was being honest, Kyle was always kinda’ insecure over the fact that he and his buddies never agreed on women. All women were beautiful creatures, he could agree with that much, but the type of woman… 

His large, veiny hands trailed over your full thighs, squeezing the pillowy flesh. They moved to your hips, a place that in the few moments of foreplay, you’d come to realize he was really into, and couldn’t keep his hands to himself. He kneaded your flesh, groaning and grinding his bare cock against your cunt. It slid in and out of your folds, your own wetness smearing down the shaft. 

You moaned loud, pressing your head into his pillow. You couldn’t help but let it out, the way he was dry-humping you was nearly enough stimulation to send you over the edge, but you waited, clenching your teeth and holding the orgasm back. 

Once your cunt was dripping, he asked permission again. This time, there was a breathless, frustrated urgency in his wanton voice, and his half-lidded, heavy with lust gaze begged you wordlessly. You agreed, and spread your legs slightly, allowing more room this time. When he finally fucked you, it was slow and deliberate. Each thrust was deeper than the last, but it wasn’t hurried, as though he was relishing in the tinier feelings of your walls as they clenched around him, squeezing his cock in a vice-grip. 

You came before he did, but the sight of you coming undone below him was enough to push him. His thrusts got a little faster when he came, little desperate bunny humps that stung, but somehow, still left you feeling satisfied. 

After a few moments, you looked at him with big, doe-eyes. “You really like women like me?” 

Still panting, he nodded, nuzzling against your heavy breasts. “I really do.” 

[lilybug-02]

Bribed with Chocolate. The way it should be.

Part 22 || First || Previous || Next

--Full Series--

More to come as this is a two-parter. But you know how I am with schedules.

Bonus:

I think this was an equally possible reaction from Chara.

[usagifuyusummer]

Hello, sorry it took me so long (6 days), but here's your request @candyglumboy. I was experimenting a lot on these honestly.

From first to last in order, First memories/ Mortality/ Ascension (or an imitation of heaven?). I'm still unsure if these are the appropriate titles for these pieces lol.

Thanks for requesting me by the way! It was fun practice admittedly. (I still suck ass at backgrounds though.)

As usual, my insane ramblings below and some close-ups and concept art (will change if formatting is fucked up).

Oh yeah, I've been offline a lot because I'm so busy with uni stuff and... unavoidable family matters..., plus all of these took me a while to finish. I was brainstorming a lot on their request and these are the ones I've chosen to finalize.

I've decided to go with the concept of life, death, and rebirth on their request to just see Peri hugging Timmy lmao, because why not? It was to make me fulfil this request in a more enjoyable and exciting way.

I was experimenting and practicing a lot on understanding the Fairly Oddparents style in these pieces. My attempts are still far from perfect obviously, I mean the second one (Mortality) took the longest for me to finish just because I couldn't translate 3D poses into the 2D artstyle very well lol. (The second one was the hardest to make it look... well alright/pretty to me. It looks like a mess of haphazardous colors... I am terrible at coloring. I think I'll share the other scrapped poses later.)

Honestly, I struggled and got frustrated a lot with finishing these but still enjoyed the process. Here I'll list my inspirations for each pieces;

First memories - xblubotx (i won't tag them because i don't want to disturb): Their small Peri/Poof and teen Timmy fanart pieces continues to inspire me to this day. And yes!!! I see that they have made More Timmy fanart!!! Thank you xblubotx. I will continue to appreciate those in silence.

Mortality - I was thinking of loss and death a lot on this one. I thought what kind of embrace that shows this feeling? So, I used the famous, Ivan the terrible and his son painting, for the pose. I wanted to challenge myself if I could translate the 3D pose into 2D, so yeah, that's the final result... It looks like a mess of vomited red colors... I am sorry if you're squeamish towards blood by the way. I wanted to see if I could also attempt to draw blood streaming. I still think I have a long ways to go in terms of skill... For now, enjoy the nuclear baby about to explode because of overwhelming feelings <3 <3 <3!

Ascension (or an imitation of heaven) - @bevony: I hope I did not miscredit you, as I used your Fairy Timmy design for this one! I changed it a little according to my preferences/headcannon though. Still, I love their Fairy Timmy design! I like the hot pink Channel boots that they gave Timmy lol. (And the very comfortable formal fashion.) Keep on slaying~ My Fairy Timmy design will probably be heavily influenced from them when I get to that eventually... Tell me if you don't want me to, I'll back off. For now, I'll be enjoying the others fanarts of Timmy quietly.

(Additionally, my phone is slowly dying from all of these creative projects that I'm doing currently lol. Agh, I wish I had a drawing tablet or a better device to satisfy these creative urges....)

Again, thank you for the request! I'm okay with requests as I'm still not confident with my creative skills at this moment lol. So, admittedly I view these as a challenge or for practice. I can't fulfil them quickly though, as I have multiple responsibilities to do in real life. Still, I don't mind them once in a while.

I hope you like what I've done here. Sorry if it doesn't fulfil your vision candyglumboy. I'll keep on practicing my creative skills.

So yeah, I think that's all I wanted to share in the post this time. I'm still at season 3 on the FOP rewatch by the way. I am very excited to get to the specials eventually. Yeehaw!!!

Here's some concepts and close-ups of the pieces below this long massive yapping session lmao. Thank you for reading. Have a nice day <3

[seagiri]

Hello, just thought I'd pop in to say I'm absolutely obsessed with how you draw noses! You use a delightful balance of shape and volume I've seen no-where else, which really defines the faces you draw! Our species has the second-largest nose of any primate, and you do it immense justice by not treating it as an afterthought compared to the eyes and mouth.

I just had to know from whence you draw inspiration for your artstyle. What allowed you to craft such well-defined schnozes, and could you perhaps walk me through how you specifically draw a face?

Ahhh thanks so much! to be honest i took inspiration from a lot of Lord of the Rings fanart and mutuals that I noticed really highlighted nose bridges, I was never a big fan of them but I got insanely curious and ended up really liking how they look

I'm terribly sorry though because I don't really have a definite process for drawing faces. If I'm struggling, I'll do a simple box shaped skull with guides for the eyes to try and warm up. If I'm already warmed up, then its most likely going to be a circle with a line for perspective guide. I usually do eyes and nose first for the same reason (perspective. theyre very important). Then I just wing it (hence why ears are always very disproportionate on heads on my art). I'm super lazy so I just do whats easier for me lmao and also I work very inconsistently, its an unprofessional fight for my life

[mistydeyes]

just a cute little moment with ghost i was hoping u could write pls 🤭

imagine simon being gone on a mission and your house was feeling so empty and lonely.

So..... you decide to adopt a dog from the shelter to mend your loneliness and waited to surprise him with the new addition to the riley family!

On the other hand, Simon felt terrible for leaving you for months on end. To keep you company and protected, he brings home *drum roll pls*

another dog!!

The look on both of your faces when he comes through the door with dog in his arms and you with a little pup on your lap already 😭😭

(hope this isn't confusing lmao)

AHHH this is so cute and precious! love simon being a dog person fr fr

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summary: With Simon gone on some unknown mission, you decide to welcome a new member to the family. However, despite how much you love the friendly little guy, Simon has other ideas on pets.

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader

warnings: none :)

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"Hi, Simon," you smiled through the phone. "Hello, love, how are you?" he asked and you relaxed into the plush blanket on the couch. "Mhmm, same old, same old," you said, trailing off towards the end as if you had something to hide, "but how have you been, haven't heard any updates." You bit your lip as the line went quiet for a moment, you kicked your feet slightly in anticipation. "Something you want to talk about? Sorry, it's been a while since we've gotten stable service," he said, a soft kindness in his whisper. Before you could reply, a soft bark resounded through your shared flat as a car drove down your lane. "What was that?" Simon asked suddenly, "Someone's dog get loose?" As your newest and surprise addition to the Riley family came running to your side, you struggled to hold the phone and settle him down with soft pats and belly rubs. You hadn't intentionally wanted to adopt a dog without Simon but something about the young pup at the local adoption center made your heart melt. Plus you were no stranger to managing a new pet. However, your failure to answer gave Simon a full assumption as to the current state of your home.

"Did-did you adopt a dog?" he asked almost holding his breath, "please, just tell me." With that, the secret was out and you silently cursed your all too observational fiancé. "I'm sorry," you blurted out, "it's just too lonely without you here and you know how the colder seasons make me feel." You tried to calm your excuses by cuddling up to your big-eyed, gentle Golden Shepherd but were immediately off put by the sudden laugh filling your ears from the other line. "Please tell me it's at least a guard dog breed," he said between laughs and you felt your held breath relax. "Um you could say that," you replied as you smiled down to the bundle of fur curled up to your side, "he can be menacing at times." "To the mail carrier or actual intruders?" he joked a slight hint of sarcasm on his tongue. "I'll send you a photo so you can judge for yourself," you huffed but before the conversation could continue any further, you heard the call suddenly drop.

You pouted a bit as you looked down at Bones, your newest companion for the coming months. "Smile for your dad," you said happily before sending the picture off to Simon to see eventually. At the end of the week, your phone dinged with an incoming message. "golden shepherds are not guard dogs." it said simply and you were sure to spam him with more photos of you and Bones' latest adventures.

You lazily lounged around the flat as you looked at your phone's calendar. Simon's mission had been extended 6 more months from his initial departure date and since that update, you had heard little since. You put down your phone dejectedly before filling up Bones' bowl of food and water. As you turned with the bowl in hand, you practically jumped when the door knob turned. Bones ran towards it rapidly as you chased after him, nearly colliding with your kitchen island. "Easy now," you commanded sharply, pulling him by his collar. "Guess he is a guard dog after all," a familiar voice spoke and your eyes met with Simon's. You immediately jumped to him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he levied a cardboard box into his other arm. As you reunited after many long months, you were monetarily blinded to the small bundle of fur peeking out from the top. "What's this, Simon?" you asked as you paused your barrage of kisses. "Look for yourself," he smirked, putting the box in your hand. Inside, a small Belgian Malinois began to lick your face. As you laughed giddily at the affections, Simon led you to the couch with Bones following cautiously. "Since you don't have much of a scary one here," he said pausing to pat Bones on the head, "thought he and you could use a companion." You nodded as you put the small puppy in your lap. "Well now that we have two children," you said turning to him, "you better be staying for a while now, Riley."

[battydora]

masterlist | rules | pinned post

synopsis: they lose a bet and they have to take a shot from your breasts (inspired by: this tiktok)

cw: suggestive, drabbles, modern au, human hantengu (i refer to them as demons anyways lol), gn. reader (afab), written with a chubby reader in mind, reader has big breasts, pet names, consensual, mentions of alcohol, drinking games, teasing, + sekido's confession

note: i saw that tiktok and can't stop thinking about it, so i decided to do it with hantengu clones, self indulgent because i want to stop feeling insecure about my chest and i need them to drink a shot from my tiddies, yeah that'll do it. i wanted to do this only with sekido but the others can join too bye im so gross about these four (btw sekido is my favourite so his part is longer, i'm not sorry) btw karaku is shamelessly dirty lmao i love him

UROGI

"haha! you lost, urogi!" karaku's voice yelled as he jumped from his seat on the ground, throwing his cards to the table out of excitement.

"ah, screw you, karaku" the joy demon complained, also throwing his cards to the table aswell looking rather annoyed, side eyeing you. he hid the fact of actually being excited about losing a bet, i mean, with a bet like that who would like to win? whatever's the case, he remained calm and collected despite everything.

"oh that's a shame" your voice spoke, sarcasm asserting presence in your tone, you were obviously not against the idea, you agreed this from the very beggining because, come on, how could you not take the chance of any of these four to bury his face into your chest?

you grab the little glass and the bottle of vodka from the table and start serving a shot. the four demons dagged their glares at you as you unbottoned a... suggestive amount of bottons of your shirt, a little smile growing on your face as you -tried to- hide your excitement for the upcoming events. you grabbed the glass and stuck it between your breasts, your hands pushing both of them together so the glass didn't pour. urogi, sekido, aizetsu and karaku looked at you a bit astonished, sekido glares away quickly, aizetsu stares for a few seconds before also looking away and karaku looks at urogi with a devilish grin, almost encouraging him. urogi didn't hesitate and, with a wide smile, walked towards you and knelt infront of you.

"okay babe, are you ready?" he asks, clearly full of confidence, he seemed excited, like a small child who just got gifted a candy.

"i was born ready" you teased pushing your chest closer to him, he flinched slightly, his eyes widen just as his smile in response, however, he was no chicken. his hands were about to hold your waist but karaku stopped him instantly, a grin on his face.

"ah, ah. no hands!" you both look at him, then at eachother. you smirked once again and winked at urogi, challenging, he only chuckled as a response and, with his hands well hid behind his back, he buried his face in your chest. he missed a few times before actually getting to the glass, his tough lips made contact lightly with your chest, making him laugh just a little bit, you bit your lower lip with a grin as you saw him struggle. you giggled as he took the glass out and threw his head back drinking the liquid within the glass, now grabbing it with his hand.

he sighed out a laugh after, shaking his head due to the alcohol burning his throat. he looked directly into your eyes with a wide smirk.

"now that was fun!"

KARAKU

"oh man, come on!" karaku throws his head back as his hands slam the table, grunting at loosing to aizetsu "you cheated!"

"you can't accuse me of that, you cheated in the first place" aizetsu protested, putting his cards down calmly "stick to the consequences"

"yeah, you're no one to speak, karaku" your teasing voice said, as you crossed your arms with a grin, karaku's annoyance dissapeared in less than a second when he shrugged and smiled back at you.

"ah, as if the consequences were so terrible anyways. let me see 'em babe!" he was shameless while asking, you laugh at him before unbottoning your upper buttons, exposing your bare chest only covered by your bra, his eyes and smile widen in excitement, he looked like a puppy.

"you will excuse me" he added taking the bottle and glass to fill it himself and stuck it between your boobs, you laughed at his lewd and fun look on his face when he stared at your chest "cheers!"

those were the last words you heard from him before he buried his face in your breasts, purposefully staying in place for a few seconds wrapping the glass with his mouth to have you close for a little longer.

"get it over with, karaku!" sekido was the one to scold the green eyed for staying there for more time that he should have, not that you minded tho.

so, just to tease both sekido and karaku, your hands pushed your boobs up just so karaku would sink in them even more, his laughter was muffled by his mouth being busy with a glass to then finally pull it away and drink the alcohol within. he took the little glass and chuckled with his precious laugh and looked at sekido.

"in your face, sekido!"he mocked and the red eyed just grunted, looking away. karaku then looked at you "sorry babe, i'm tempted, can i give any of your buddies a hickey?" he shamelessly asked, your eyes widened as you saw from the corner of your eye how sekido and aizetsu grossed out at him, which only made you laugh out loud.

"yes baby boy, go ahead" you heard an annoyed 'oh come on! you're disgusting!' coming from sekido aswell as you heard urogi laughing at the whole situation, granting you some sort of satisfaction, this was fun.

"man, cheating was so so worthy!" karaku cheered to himself before putting his mouth to use again.

SEKIDO

"this is ridiculous, i'm not doing it." sekido is the first one to make an objection against the bet HE accepted.

"oh no! you're not backing away like a coward!" urogi laughs at him, shaking his head.

"yeah, man, you can't bet and then not confront the consequences" karaku backs up urogi, laughing at sekido's face right now, man's infuriated.

"shut up both of you!" he states loudly, crossing his arms, avoiding any sort of eye contact with you, he is denial... and embarassment.

"you accepted the challenge, sekido. don't be a pussy" you say now, your elbow resting on the living room table, your face is one of amusement and your eyes locked on the anger demon. he does not answer to you so karaku speaks again.

"if you're not gonna do it, i will" his grin is devilish, he tries to touch a nerve in sekido. the red eyed demon turns to him absolutely furious, more than he normally is.

"fine, shut up, let's get this over with" he grunts and sighs, karaku laughs at him.

"that's the attitude, i knew you weren't so stubborn to let this chance pass by" urogi teases now, you laugh at all the teasing to the poor sekido and serve the drink in the small glass. the red eyed simply groans and decides to ignore them, now putting his attention solely on you.

he kneels infront of you, his knees glued to eachother and fists sitting on them almost shyly, he frowns at you but then looks down, avoiding looking at you, only for a second until he notices you begin to unbotton your shirt, then is when he becomes nervous, he tries so hard to not look at your chest, he is already so embarassed for doing this and can barely look at you. he can't avoid it any longer and eventually lifts his gaze and takes a look at the glass sitting between your big breasts, a beautiful black bra cupping them so prettily. the view is arousing and makes sekido actually thirsty. you stare at his astonished look and make him snap back by pressing your chest lightly.

"what's the matter? gonna try to chicken out again?" you tease in a playful and sweet voice, making the blush on sekido's face grow wider. he gulps and responds.

"of course not, i'm no coward"

he builds up courage from his own words and leans to your chest, his face flushes in dark red when his skin touches yours as he tries to catch the glass with his mouth and pull it out as soon as possible to end this embarassment. his hand lands on your thigh for support (yeah, support...) squeezing softly before finally pulling out the little thing out of your chest, throwing his head back drinking the alcohol in it. the hand touching you takes the glass and slams it to the table.

"done." yep, you definitely enjoy when he's upset like he is in this very moment, his fanged grimace remaining on place as he returns to his seat, avoiding eye contact with you for the rest of the night, because he knows you're looking at him with that look, that exact look you make when you want to tease someone. not that he feels disgusted, he just doesn't want to lose himself infront of his friends.

later that night, you stay over at the hantengu's place, karaku, urogi and aizetsu went to bed a little bit tipsy from a fun night and you're about to do the same until you come across sekido in the hallway, he is dressing the loose t-shirt and shorts he uses as pijamas, his angered expression looking strangely soft right now, or maybe you are imagining it, the hallway is dark and the alcohol in your system is not entirely gone.

"hey, i just wanted to say, i wouldn't mind taking another shot from that chest of yours anytime" he states confidently but in a low voice, the statement surprises you but you play along, whispering some words in response.

"oh yeah? what changed your mind? you seemed vexed carrying out the bet earlier" you look directly into his deep red eyes, he frowns before answering.

"i don't like being watched, those bastards were putting a lot of pressure, i didn't enjoy it as i wanted to"

"aw you're adorable" you say, smiling playfully. you walk to him, standing only a few centimeters away from him, your hand landing on his muscular chest and going down, teasingly "how about we go to your room and try again? bet you'll enjoy it accordingly this time" his angered expression changes for an instant when a teeth showing grin appears on his face, nodding in agreement.

"i would love to rip off that pretty black bra after"

AIZETSU

"do i really have to do this...?" the sorrow demon asks, as if he could back away now that he is kneeling in front of you, chest on full display, a glass of vodka already waiting for him.

"i mean, can you really chicken out now?" karaku says, chuckling to himself.

"yeah, you have to do it" urogi follows, giggling knowing aizetsu has the fattest crush on you and that this was definitely not in his plans.

"i guess i don't have other choice..."

his lips are twisted in an awkward grimace, his face is red as sekido's eyes, he is so ashamed and embarassed right now, he just wants to end this.

'why do i get myself in these situations...' he thinks to himself, trying not to panic as he leans forward, his hands are shyly sitting on his lap.

he is a sweetheart, he loves you (and desires you) deeply but he will do anything in his power to have the littlest touch with your breasts as possible, even if you consented to this. he is very respectful of you no matter the circumstances. however, he kinda fails his commitment because the glass is unfairly buried in your chest (you did that on purpose to tease him, poor thing) so he had a hard time getting it. after some hard work, he finally manages to pull the glass out and drink the alcohol within, his face is red as ever and his eyes avoid yours at all costs.

"d-done, i'm going to my room now, excuse me"

"oh, aizetsu, man come on! it's okay!" urogi tries to cheer him up but the blue eyed already headed to his room, you start to feel lowkey bad for him, what if he didn't like it?

"i feel bad now... was that really okay? he seemed upset" you say with a guilty tone, furrowing your brows, thinking you might've ruined the night for aizetsu.

"no babe don't feel bad! ... i'm not sure if we should tell you this but-" karaku begins to talk but is soon shut by sekido interrupting him.

"the dumbass has a crush on you, it's so dang obvious" he grunts crossing his arms, his revelation actually surprised you, i mean aizetsu kinda hit on you in past situations but you may not have noticed it because his signals were a bit subtle, so it wasn't so obvious for you, maybe to them it was because they're his closest friends.

"oh... is that so?" you ask, still a bit shocked.

"yeah" karaku speaks again "so, if i were you, i would check on him" he smiles rising a brow at you with a smug smile, clearly suggesting you should have some alone time with the blue eyed.

"yeah! we won't bother you" urogi chuckles, winking at you.

"just don't make too much noise or i'm kicking you out" sekido adds, frowning.

you try to hide your blushing face laughing amusingly at them, you loved these dorks so much, supporting you in this whole thing, maybe the night isn't exactly ruined, more seems like it just begins.

thanks for reading!

[lincolndjarin]

fine art

javi gutierrez x moviestar!reader - installment #1 of sparrow's spectacles

main masterlist - other spectacles - kofi

summary : you were an up and coming actress, javi is your biggest fan, he'd do anything to have meet you.

word count : 3.9k

warnings, tags : dead dove do not eat, !! dark fic !! mdni 18+, noncon, stalker!javi, kidnapping, capture, stockholm syndrome, m&f masturbation, sex toys, briefly mentioned periods, exhibitionism, voyurism, so much internal thought processing regarding readers situation, briefly referenced suicide, reader is undescribed other than briefly being mentioned as young in her acting career, in my head she's late twenties, probs other tags i missed sorry. tldr: you have spent so much time with javi against your will that you unwillingly start fantasizing about him and give in to destructive urges in an attempt to escape him, everything is bad here.

a/n : is this stupid and probably bad? who knows, i have a terrible sense of self judgement lately so i'm just gonna post this and hope it's good. also can you tell that i blatantly stole the set from You LMAO. anyhow this is the first installment of my little 'horror' series. but it's less horror and more just odd little stories i wanted to write tbh

Desk, bed, lamp, television, door, chair.

Desk, bed, lamp, television, door, chair.

Desk, bed, lamp, television, door, chair.

On days where you’re feeling particularly bored you list the things you can see. Unfortunately for you, your surroundings rarely change. Of course you could change that, if you asked him for something he’d give it to you, anything you wanted. Unless of course it was something he thought you could hurt yourself with or contact the outside world with. 

You didn’t often ask. 

Whenever you can have a conversation with him he always says the same thing. 

“If you stopped being so stubborn you might actually be happy.” 

“I would do anything for you.” “Then let me out.” “Anything but that.” 

“It’s not as terrible as you make it out to be. It isn’t an actual cage, it isn’t so bad.” 

So you don’t talk to him unless you have to. 

But some days you’re just so painfully, agonizingly, bored and you can’t help yourself. So you scream at him, or you pound on the unyielding plexiglass, or you hold your hand up against it, hoping he’ll touch the other side and you can briefly imagine yourself having physical contact with another human being. 

Sometimes you’ll even play his games. 

You’ll read the scripts he slides through the small square opening in the cage that can’t be more than a foot wide, and act out scenes with him simply because it gives you something to do and for fucks sake you’re desperate for something to do. It’s so easy to get caught up in him, if it wasn’t so easy you’d probably let yourself do it more often, thankfully, it’s so fucking scary. If you spend too much time in the box you’re worried that eventually you’ll forget that you aren’t a doll and you'll grow to like your box. So you do your damndest to maintain a wall between the two of you, but when that wall is glass it is destined to break eventually. So you scream and you fight until you get tired, and then you let the walls down as you rest, before returning to your struggle. And everytime you let the walls down they take longer to put back up. 

At the end of the day it never matters how you treat him, he loves you all the same. 

Even on days where you scream your throat raw and throw your furniture against the walls, if you ask him to get you takeout from your favorite restaurant, or watch a movie with you, he always will. You asked him about it once. Why didn't he just make you do what he wanted? Why didn’t he just make you obey? He had looked genuinely offended, as if he couldn’t believe you thought him capable of such a thing. 

And he told you that he loved you.

More than anything. 

That you were his most prized possession. 

That he would never do anything to hurt you, it would be like if he were angry and he threw a priceless vase, the only person it would hurt is himself. 

You had nodded as if he was making any sense and you’d turned back to the movie he’d picked out. 

You were a vase. 

You were a collectible. 

A priceless, collectable. He kept you in perfect condition and never took you out of the box. Not even to play with you himself. A small, rather demented part of you, is starting to wish that he would. Of course you don’t want him to force himself upon you, you aren’t that far gone. (Yet.) But it’s been so long since you’ve touched another person. You would give your left arm just to be held. If your calendar serves you well, it’s been just over two years since you last saw someone who wasn’t Javi. 

And Javi wouldn’t touch you. 

Not ever. You were too perfect to be defiled in such a way. He would sometimes hold his hand against the glass when you held up your own, he even kissed you through it once. (Although it had been rather awkward and neither one of you ever talked about it again.) But he never touched you. 

Sometimes you can’t help but wonder what would have happened if you’d met Javi in a social setting. He is rather handsome, and though you hate to admit it, when he isn’t leering he’s almost charming. 

Almost.

Everyday you slip further into the fantasy where Javi does something to break up the monotony. Is that his goal? To make you so desperate for human connection that you eventually snap and beg him to touch you? You shudder as you wonder how long that would take. After the first year you stopped wondering what would happen when he got bored of you. You know deep down that that will never happen. If anything his devotion  for you only continues to grow with each passing day. If it’s possible he probably loves you more now then he did at the start of your stay here. Despite everything he takes care of you, in his own strange sort of way. 

Like how he tracks your cycle, always making sure you have anything you need on those days. Sometimes he even knows it’s starting before you do, he’ll bring you baskets with blankets and candy and any other little trinket or gift he saw that made him think of you. 

Jewelry, little plush toys, and books. Anything to try and make you feel anything other than the misery that constantly loomed over you as you waited for his next visit. He never goes more than a few days without seeing you and he always apologizes when he does. He returns with your favorite shampoo or lotion to make it up to you, but it never really changes how you feel about him. It’s nice to fantasize a world in which you enjoy your only source of company but you’re careful to never let that fantasy bleed into reality. 

If he were actually your partner you’d have locked him down ages ago. A part of you knows that he doesn’t want that kind of relationship with you though. He doesn’t want a girlfriend, you’re much more than that. You’re more like a goddess in a cage to him than an actual human being. A beloved pet bird. It’s clear he feels something more than simple love for you. It’s a devotion, a conscious effort to worship you. 

You are to be kept in pristine condition. 

Of course that doesn’t mean he can’t look. 

Two and a half years. 

That’s how long it took for the looking to escalate into something more. You were watching a movie. 

50 First Dates

You had picked it out, Javi liked action movies but would never complain when you wanted to watch a rom-com. You were on your bed, curled up under the blankets in a hoodie and sweatpants. You haven’t worn makeup since he took you, you rarely brushed your hair, you never put much thought into your appearance, and Javi wouldn’t give you a mirror. 

You had one, a long time ago. Within the first week you’d smashed it, threatening to slit your own throat if he didn’t let you out. All that resulted in was you no longer being allowed to have breakables. Plastic cutlery and paper plates were wordlessly passed to you from that point forward.

You had been watching in silence, he sat on the couch outside the cage like he always did and it wasn’t until you heard a shuddering groan that you turned around to see him kneeling beside the cage, one hand pressed up against the glass, steadying himself, the other wrapped around his cock.  

You were frozen in place. 

What are you supposed to do in that situation? 

You watched, slack jawed as he took his time. His gaze made you feel naked, like he could see through the layers of blankets and baggy clothing. 

He had looked you in the eye when he finished. Briefly staring wide eyed before his eyes squeezed shut and with a long, drawn out moan and a strained cry of your name. His cum painted the glass and before you could form any sort of response he was already stuffing himself back into his pants and standing. You want to say something, anything. Something to hold him accountable for what he just did, but you can’t think of anything, and he’s already leaving. 

Before you can even blink he’s gone, without so much as a glance in your direction. And you’re left alone, in the lamp light, unable to escape the sight of his filth on the glass. Covering your head with a blanket as you waited for it to be late enough for the power to cut out and leave you in a safe, and comfortable darkness. 

A part of you hoped that the white speckles would be gone when you woke up but you weren’t that lucky. 

You faced away from that wall, with your head buried in a book until you looked at the clock and knew it was almost time to face him again. When he returned he had an aura of shame around himself, his arms were full of grocery bags and his eyes were red rimmed and teary. 

“I’m so sorry- I just- I love you so much, I don’t know what came over me.” If this was a normal relationship and the two of you had maybe gotten into an argument or something you would have forgiven him. After all he looked genuinely remorseful as he stared at you, going through the bags before setting down several takeout containers with labels you recognized. He had gone out and gotten all your favorites. Your favorite fast food place, as well as a high end chinese restaurant you loved for special occasions, and a clear plastic case with a slice of your favorite flavored cake from a small bakery near your apartment that you frequented. (You’d never asked him to get you anything from there before, you’d never even mentioned the place to him.) 

Through his mumbled apologies he set down your favorite bubble tea flavor and a water bottle. 

He had passed everything to you through the opening in the cage with trembling hands as he sniffled. Once you had everything he sprayed the drying remnants of his release with Windex, pulling several paper towels off the roll and wiping it until it was as if it never happened. By the time he was finished his cheeks were red and big tears rolled down his face. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Before you can stop yourself you’re comforting him, as if he’s the victim in this situation. 

“It’s not okay, I don’t want you to think that that’s why you’re here.” He mumbles sadly, letting his forehead hit the glass. Through your disgust for your own words you sense something else.

Opportunity. 

The only chance you’re going to get for escape involves him unlocking the door. Something he hasn’t done since he put you in here in the first place. You’ve tried in the past. Not often, there weren’t very many chances, you had everything you needed here, running water and a bathroom, any other sustenance was provided by him through the little opening. There was so rarely an opportunity, and when there were he always anticipated your plans before you got to put them into motion. But you’ve never tried deception. You think you would have, considering you’re an actress but it had never crossed your mind until just now. You can’t half ass this though. If you decide to do this you will get one chance to do it right. 

Go big or go home. 

“No really, it’s okay. It’s sort of… flattering.” His face drops the second you say it and regret starts creeping in. You’re going to die here. He’s going to keep you here until the day you die and no one will ever know what happened to you. A young starlight, taken out in her prime. 

“It’s not, it’s disgusting.” He tosses the paper towels away, sniffling to himself as he stands with his hands clasped in front of him, swaying anxiously back and forth. You take a seat on your bed across from him, fighting the urge to put your hand on the glass. You don’t want to lay it on too thick, he’ll see right through that. 

“It’s fine, it’s- it’s natural.” You’re struggling to find the right words that make it feel real. At one point you were a rather talented actress but you’re out of practice. “Seriously. Especially from you. It’s really sweet.” Fuck, are you doing too much?

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he chews his lip as he stares at you, you can tell he’s skeptical. He should be. You so rarely speak to him and when you do it’s never to be kind. 

“Actions speak louder than words.” 

Someone said that in a movie Javi picked, you had sat and let him read the scene to you afterwards. 

He wants an actress, you can give him that. You can perform, as long as that’s all it is. If it’s a performance you can keep your wall up. You stumble off the bed, your legs feeling like jelly as you pull open the drawer on your nightstand. 

This plan feels stupider by the minute but you need to commit.

He didn’t gift you sex toys the way he did with other little things to make you happier. But they were always just sort of there. In their original packaging, shoved in your nightstand drawer with a few batteries he’d left as well, they’d been here when you woke up in the cage. You doubt you’ll be able to relax enough to do this without a little help, and you have to be convincing. If you aren’t believable he’s unlikely to trust you in the future. If you fuck this up now you’ll never get another chance. 

It’s a pale pink rabbit. You’d probably never buy something like it for yourself, it looks… expensive. The silicone is smooth against your fingers as you rip open the packaging, twisting the base open to pop in two batteries. Rushing in an attempt to not lose your nerve. When you gather your courage you risk a glance up at him, just fast enough to watch his tongue dart out and wet his lips.

So he does want this. 

Good. 

Pressing the button on the toy makes it buzz to life.  

Okay. 

This isn’t so bad. It’s just masturbating, if you do this for him you can take advantage of the obvious attraction he has for you. Even if it doesn’t work immediately, eventually this ends with him letting you out, or at the very least letting himself in, which is all you need. 

So you get back into bed, and you lean on a stack of pillows before really focusing on him. 

And you ask him the question he didn’t bother to ask you.

“Is this okay?” You hope the trembling in your voice comes off as endearing. 

His throat bobs as he nods. Maybe he doesn’t mind that you’ve been laying it on a little thick. Maybe you’ve denied him your affections for so long that he doesn’t want to risk rejecting any advance from you. No matter how out of the blue it seems/.

You push your sweats down to your ankles before kicking them off the bed. No time for embarrassment or regret now, if he senses hesitation none of this will be worth it. He’s moved to be sitting on the couch directly outside the cage now. His knees pressed together as he sits with his hands in his lap, looking almost comically polite. 

No sense putting off the inevitable. 

It’s been a while, there’s a camera in the corner of the cage so you don’t masturbate often, and when you do it’s late at night, once the lights are off and you can hide under your blanket. You can’t do that now though, that would defeat the purpose. 

You leave the toy off as you shove it down the front of your panties. Pressing the soft head of it against your slit, finding it surprisingly easy to tease your entrance with it. 

Are you wet? 

It’s been a while, that’s why. 

Javi certainly hasn’t wasted any time. If he were sitting any closer he’d be fogging up the glass, his hand is shoved down his pants, his face already flushed red. His usual rigid posture is lost as he leans back into the couch cushions, refusing to tear his eyes off of you. Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth you push the toy into you, holding back a gasp as you swallow. At least it feels sort of good. Good enough to make you wish you’d swallowed your pride and used this before today. 

Your body moves instinctually as your free hand reaches forward to push your panties down and turn the vibe on in one motion, the silicone attachment pressing against your clit as you press the toy deeper into your pussy. It’s a little too easy to relax suddenly. Javi now slowly strokes himself, his cock in his hand, looking painfully hard as he squeezes the base of his shaft, almost as if he’s scared of blowing his load too soon. 

Good. 

The less time it takes the better. 

At least that’s what you tell yourself as you angle the toy, letting the tip of it brush against your g-spot and drawing an authentic moan from you. Fighting the urge to cover your mouth in surprise, you repeat the motion. The combination of sensations making your toes curl and your back arch into the mattress. 

“Fuck-” Your voice catches in your throat, your fingers twitch against the button to turn the vibrations up a level. 

Once you find your rhythm it’s easy to forget about the nerves and what’s at stake. It’s easy to get lost in the sensation and the sight of Javi shuddering as he gasps. It’s easy to focus on the attractive parts of him for a brief moment, to make things easier. And it’s easy to wonder if his cock would feel better than the toy that hums and makes your body tense up deliciously. 

It’s actually terrifying how easy it is. 

It’s enough to make you horrified for just a split second. He wasn’t lying when he said you could be happy if you stopped fighting. Twisted into the pleasure you’re feeling is something else. Relief. Relief for the peace you find when you stop fighting him. You could feel this good all the time if you wanted, you and Javi could have your favorite food for dinner, you could watch your favorite movies, and act out your favorite scenes. 

You could feel good. 

You could have nights like these where you watch him jerk off his pretty, thick cock and know that someone loves you enough to take care of you like this. You could let him buy you pretty things and toys that make you feel so so so good. 

And that thought terrifies you. 

If you stayed in this cage you would eventually become entirely complacent. 

It might not be tomorrow, or next week, or next year, but eventually.

You will be happy to flutter about your cage once you’ve forgotten how to fly. 

His pretty little bird. 

It’s your orgasm that snaps you out of that living nightmare. You hadn’t even realized you’d still been fucking the toy, pleasuring yourself to that little daydream. This wasn’t a good idea and you shouldn’t have done it but it’s too late for that now especially when you’re groaning out his name as you remove the still buzzing toy, now slick with your wetness. Javi’s eyes are wide as he clearly can’t hold back any longer as he dirties his shirt and pants with his own release. 

As you quickly reach for the toy, turning it off, you pull your panties up in a hurry. Maybe you should push your luck and ask him to come into the cage now. A sense of dread is settling in your stomach as you realize that you can’t be here much longer, who knows how quickly you’ll crumble if you keep letting yourself do this. It’s best to make this a swift process where you don’t have any more time to sink into the hell that is acceptance of these four glass walls. 

You’re about to do it. About to tell him that he should join you, that it would feel better for the both of you if he was in the cage as well but you don’t get a chance to as he zips his pants back up.

“Go to bed, when you’re asleep I’m gonna leave you a gift.” He stands abruptly, giving you a reassuring smile before pressing his hand up to the glass. You don’t hesitate to crawl up the length of the bed and press your own to his, it’s brief but you can feel the connection here. 

This is just the beginning. 

After today you’ll put more effort in. You’ll make it happen and you’ll make it happen fast. You can put the time and effort in, it’s not like you have anything better to do. You’ll convince him that it’s real before you lose yourself entirely and when the day finally comes where he opens the door you won’t waste the opportunity. 

You’ll leave your room. 

You can figure out the logistics of it later but for now you take the sleeping pill he slides through the opening every night he visits. You don’t usually take it but you need sleep and this will be easier if he thinks you’re compliant. With a sip of your drink the little pill goes down and your eyes close. 

And you dream that you’re a bird, flying through a blue sky.  

You sleep better than you ever have before in the cage. 

Until you wake, the lamp being on is the only indicator you have that it’s daytime. Your hair stands on end as you sit up. He was here. Things have been moved, little things, noticeable things. Your empty drink is tossed in the bin and it smells of cleaning supplies. He doesn’t ever come inside the cage, that goes against everything he tells you. Your head is spinning as you try to figure out what’s different. How long were you out? The pills have never made you feel this fuzzy before on the rare occasions that you’ve taken them, you do your best to focus but it’s difficult when everything’s so muddled. So you do the one thing you know will clear your head and you list the things you see. 

Desk, bed, lamp, television, chair.

Something’s wrong, different. 

He said he was going to give you a gift. What the fuck did he do? Did he leave it in here? Was it too big to fit through the opening? Is that why he came into the cage? 

You don’t catch it immediately, but there is a note taped to the inside of the glass. 

I knew you’d learn to be happy : ) 

See you tonight.

Love, Javi 

You look back around the room, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Desk, bed, lamp, television, chair.

Desk, bed, lamp, television, chair.

Desk, bed, lamp, television, chair.

Oh. 

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[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Kinkuary Day 6

AN: Let it be known that this Chris lives in my head rent-free. I know exploring free use with a dominant partner isn't a new concept, but I still don't see it explored as much, so I thought it would be fun to try my hand at it. Especially with the king of the service doms.

Synopsis: Everything sucks. Today might be one of the worst days of your life (and that's against some stiff competition). Fortunately for you, you have a boyfriend who is more than happy to distract you.

General tags and warnings: Christopher Bang/Bang Chan x Fem! Reader, established relationship, some angst early on but, nothing too bad imo, Christopher being the nation's best boyfriend and that's it. This is pretty much porn with very little plot.

Primary kink: Free use.

Smut tags and warnings: Chris struggling to relinquish control lmao but, Soft Dom! Chris nonetheless, sub! Reader but she does take charge quite a bit in this, free use, facesitting, slight overstimulation (f. receiving), piv sex without a condom, dirty talk, lots of praise and petnames because it's Chris, Daddy kink, creampie and nipple play (f. receiving).

Word count: 2k.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

You're surprised you're able to still trudge through your front door after the day you've had. Between completely forgetting about an assignment that was due today, six separate customers yelling at you and your phone screen shattering, saying today has been a bad day would be putting it kindly. You've never wanted to just disappear to a cottage in the countryside more. You're sure you could convince Chris to leave with you.

Speaking of which, the sight of your boyfriend on your shared couch does help ease some of the overall terribleness that has been weighing you down all day. Dropping your bag, you make your way over to him. Wrapping your arms around his broad, solid body while you nuzzle against his neck. His mere presence is enough to relax the tension in your shoulders and soothe the anxiety that never seems to quite go away.

“Hi baby. Didn't know you were home. How was your day?” He asks, taking off his headphones. Placing them and his laptop on your coffee table, which does make you pout a little since he's no longer in your arms. However, he does turn to you and you're struck with just how soft and handsome he looks. That, combined with his question, makes your throat burn and your eyes start to sting.

“Horrible,” you mutter, nestling yourself into his chest and sighing contently when he rubs your back and happily crushes you to his frame. It's easy to forget everything when he holds you like this. All the shitty professors, entitled customers and piles of coursework fade away and there's nothing in your mind but, Chris.

“I'm sorry, baby. Do you want to talk about it? How can I make it better?” God, does he have any idea how irrevocably in love with him you are? Sometimes, you think you might have been some hero in a past life for him to wind up in your life. However, you mull his offer over before an idea finally sets in.

“Lavender?” You ask, blinking up at him and pressing yourself as close to him as humanly possible. Clutching at his simple, thin shirt while you wait for his answer.

“Are you sure? You have had a pretty shitty day so I don't know–”

“Yes, Daddy. I'm sure. So, lavender?” You don't mean to cut him off but, you really do need this right now. His concern is sweet and you always appreciate it but, you just need to shut your brain off for a few hours.

Exhilaration creeps up your spine as you watch the way his face shifts when your words register to him. His hold on you tightening marginally but you notice it all the same.

“Okay, lavender.”

That's all it takes for you to launch yourself into his lap. Nearly toppling both of you over in the process but, Chris steadies you while you make yourself at home in his lap. Holding his face in your hands while you slot your mouth against his. It's messy and more eagerness than anything on your end but, it feels so good to just kiss him again. Chris does try to bring some order into your uncoordinated liplock, guiding your mouth against his while his hands rest on your hips.

Sex wasn't on your mind before you walked through the front door but, now? Grinding down on the hardness you can feel starting to form under you while you explore Chris's mouth? Desire twists like a knife in the pit of your stomach. Your clit throbbing with every clumsy brush against his lap and your walls starting to clench and unclench almost painfully. It's probably some record how quickly your panties become a mess while you hump against Chris for dear life.

“Off please,” you breathe once the two of you separate to catch your respective breaths. Saliva smeared across both of your mouths and you would dive back in if you weren't so focused on getting his shirt off. Luckily for you, Chris is just as impatient as you are so he tugs it off within seconds. Tossing it to be forgotten on your living room floor.

You can't help the moan that bubbles out of you at the sight of his bare chest. You've seen it thousands of times and it still never fails to turn your blood molten. Palming as much of him as your hands can, you litter his neck with kisses and nips. Whimpering into his skin when his hands drift from your hips to grab and knead your ass over your work skirt. His hips shallowly thrusting up into you. Fuck, you're already so tightly wound.

A startled noise leaves Chris when you (gently) shove him onto his back but, he doesn't complain otherwise. Just watches you with a mixture of want and curiosity through his curly hair. His eyes widen when you eventually shuffle up his body until you're hovering over his beautiful face. A shudder runs through you when his tongue darts out to lick his full lips before his dark eyes meet your own again.

You're too desperate to care about getting undressed so, you hurriedly shove your panties to the side before easing yourself onto his face. The first touch his mouth against your drenched, puffy folds sends you reeling. You grab the back of the couch in an attempt to steady yourself but, Chris doesn't give you a chance. Lapping and sucking at you with so much intensity from the get go that you can already feel your thighs starting to quiver.

“Ah, Daddy,” you whimper when he decides to focus all of his attention and energy on your clit. “Fuck, oh my god,” comes your broken moan when he attaches himself to it. Licking and drawing patterns into that you couldn't hope to decipher at the moment when it feels like you're able to break into a million, little pieces soon. It's all so lewd and obscene and hot. The wet sounds of him eating you coupled with your wanton noises of pleasure seeming to echo throughout your entire apartment.

Your hips move on their own accord. Using his unfairly gifted mouth and cute nose to get yourself off. You're practically riding his face at this point and, based on the moans Chris presses into you, he's enjoying this just as much as you are. You know if he had it his way, he'd be using his hands to shove you even further into his face but, he's happy to lay there and let you use him until you're satisfied.

Which doesn't take all that long. Usually, you're pretty good at being able to tell when you're about to orgasm but, this time it catches you completely off-guard. A jumbled mess of ‘Daddy’ and ‘Chris’ fall from your lips as your body convulses. Your fingernails dig into the couch so fiercely that for a fleeting moment you're worried you might have ruined it.

Chris doesn't allow your mind to wonder for too long, though. Licking your gushing wetness like it's the first bit of liquid he's had in days while his nose brushes your throbbing clit. Your thighs shake and tightening around his head as the familiar burn of overstimulation starts to settle in the apex of your thighs and creep to your extremities.

“Da–Daddy,” you choke out, winding your hand into his hair and tugging his mouth away from you, “To–Too much,” you finish with a great deal of effort. Using all of your strength to move off of him until you're hovering over him. Your respective, unsteady breathing all that can be heard.

Cracking an eye open to look at him is a grave mistake. Between his wild eyes, unruly hair, flushed cheeks and full, bruised lips covered in you, you never stood a chance. And the sporadic clenching and unclenching of your still not filled pussy helps make that abundantly clear.

Chris watches you while you shift down his body. Air catching in his lungs when your hands reach for the waistband of his sweats and impatiently tug them down. He's so hard and a teasing dribble of pre-cum leaks from his tip that you can't help yourself from bending down and licking it.

“Fu–Fuck, sweetheart,” he groans, throwing his head back while his hands clench and unclench at his sides. Cute. His hips just barely jerk up in search of more relief from your mouth but, you don't give him the satisfaction. You have other plans in mind.

Grabbing his thick cock, you guide it to your dripping entrance. Just barely able to keep your eyes open to watch him as you sink down onto him. You lose that battle very quickly. Your eyes fluttering shut with every inch of him you sink down on until he's fully inside of you. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. You can already feel tears building up at the corners of your eyes just at the sheer fullness you feel right now.

“–so tight. Such a good girl. Always so fucking good,” Chris's words bring you back down for a moment and you blink your bleary eyes open to look at him. Your walls clamp down on him harshly when the sight of your sweaty, flushed boyfriend greets you. That's all the prompting you need to start a brutal pace. His cock just opens you up so deliciously that you can't help but bounce on it. The sounds of your skin hitting his and the filthy squelching between your thighs nearly drowning out your shared noises of pleasure.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” you chant, impatiently tugging open your work shirt and shoving down your bra until your breasts are finally free. Chris's eyes burn as they watch you palm your tits and tug on your nipples until you're just barely able to focus on fucking yourself stupid on him. “I feel so good, Daddy. Your cock makes me feel so full,” you whimper after an especially harsh twist of your nipples.

“Yeah?” He pants out, his dark locks starting to stick to his sweaty forehead while his eyes struggle to pick between looking at your beautiful face, your hands toying with yourself or his cock disappearing inside of your scorching pussy. “Does my princess like using Daddy to get herself off, hmm? Does it feel good to fuck yourself on Daddy's cock while he just lies here? Tell me, baby.”

“Y-Yes, so good, Daddy. Your cock feels ah fuck so amazing, Daddy. You feel so good, Daddy.” You whine, one of your hands snaking its way between your thighs to rub against your swollen clit. A fractured moan bubbling out of your throat while you rub frantic circles against yourself and try to maintain the pace you set on Chris's cock.

“That's good. You look so pretty using me to get yourself off, sweetheart,” he coos, giving you a smile so soft that you can feel your heart grow in your chest while your release grows closer and closer. “Are you going to cum, baby? Gonna cum all over my cock, beautiful? Hmm? I want you to. Wanna see you cum so badly. Wanna feel you make a mess all over me.”

And just like that you feel your entire body seize. You're not even aware of what's coming out of your mouth right now but, you can't bring yourself to care. Your vision blurs at the edges while your entire body shudders. It takes every ounce of you not to completely collapse ontop of him while you ride out the waves that keep crashing into your limp body.

“–my girl,” is all you hear in the distance before you feel his large hands grab your hips and something warm filling your spasming walls. Opening your eyes with a great deal of effort, you're greeted with the sight of a panting, fucked out Chris. His cock pulsing inside of you with every rope of cum that shoots out of it. That does eventually prompt you to collapse onto his sturdy chest. Nuzzling into his neck while your shared releases start to leak out of you.

“Feel better?” He asks, rubbing your back soothingly while pressing featherlight kisses against your forehead.

“Yes, thank you. I love you,” you mutter tiredly into his skin, pressing yourself as close to him as you can.

“I love you too, baby,” are the last words you hear before succumbing to the fatigue that's been calling you all day.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

Kinkuary Masterlist | Stray Kids Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Hiii saw your requests open and i thought why not give it a shot. I love your stories, I'm more attached to your style of writing melancholy like on floret, counting coins, better left unsaid and always the angel never the god. So, just a random idea to throw out there you can do whatever with it:

Hiccup and yn were engaged early on. Yn is a bit older and fitter to follow around Stoick to learn how to defend and manage Berk. Yn feels sorry for Hiccup and tries to make him enjoy his youth and time with his friends more while she made him handle the rest. Leading to a misunderstanding that he didn't feel needed when in fact he did have a crush on her with how she doted on him and how cool she looked fighting dragons and ordering people around. While she liked him for his thoughtful caring side but still envied his freedom and creativity.

That's pretty much it idk lmao it was just a word puke. That's just the gist no need to be word for word, if it's too much i completely understand but truly want to praise your eloquence and how you caught me right in the feels augh. Thank you for your time! 🦀

Wildflower

Pairing: Unrequited!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Fiance!Reader

Words: 2113

You never asked to be here.

Tags: Mild age difference, fem!reader, heavy exposition, non-canon politics, original characters

Next>

His arms ached, heavy and stiff as if the body of a sapling had been shot right through the bone. They loosened slightly and dipped under some hefty weight- he paid them no mind, eyes drawn to the wild world on the outside even as he grunted and struggled. 

With a jerk, dropping the sword, he with a strength he’d never really been able to spend on the all things that really mattered. There was a hefty clatter and a clang, the sound no less thick than the bang of a heavy bell or a gong, long metal body slamming and dancing against stone.

 His feet and legs stuttered as he stepped both forwards and back, palms roughly meeting the wood of the counter, bouncing eagerly as if he might begin to run or be startled into action.

There had been a shout- something indignant, deeper than normal, not so much a battle cry yet no less defiant and sure. He thought he might have known it- he had to look. 

The feel of smoothed, aged wood beneath his palms, both flatter and rounder than liquid, solid and uninterrupted- the sound of warring battle-cries from the world outside and the sweltering feel of heat from both the forge and the terrible reign of dragonfire and sharp teeth and clawed mouth- all of it came secondary to his searching, the bulk of him overshadowed by the hefty forge window

It was too early in the battle and the warriors of Berk had been too prepared for there to have been a line outside the door, and well- most of everyone had already left for the other side of the island, where the assault had been most violent.

He felt the burn on the side of his hand as he brought his hand back, grazing it against the side of the table- he’d accidentally pressed it against the face of the sander’s belt. It’d stung and buzzed with a thickness not unlike the feeling of folded cloth crusted in dragon spit or the hard skin on the bottom of an old foot, though the skin on his own palm, he knew, wasn’t so thick or stubborn.

Past raging orange flames and scorching yellows he saw you, lonesome, outlined like a shadow in the light across the clearing. 

Your shoulders were stiff and your stance full as you swung the hard, metal-rimmed bottom of a bucket against the head of a beast- a Gronkle, its thick, green-brown head giving way to a wide maw as it bellowed.

 It bled, its blood splattering across your face as if it were naught but a shock of light or darkness made liquid; as if, instead, it was you who had been violently cut and not it.

There was no vicious, beautiful Astrid here to ogle at- not now, as there had been in the before times and as there would be later- no, just you. 

You, who had been meant for him… At least, he thought so. 

He wasn’t completely confident in the fact- the whole thing went rather unspoken of. It wasn’t a taboo per se, more something that lay heavy, made clear through few words a long time ago then made obscure by the lengths of time and age.

Still, there came a suresty with it even if there wasn’t much of a bond between the two of you, something that, for him, acted as a heavy comfort. In times like these, he leaned into it, felt the lump in his chest beat against it like his bones were nothing but taut leather and wood.

-

Blazing red hair, nearly imperceptible against the raging fires as she swung an axe- it took you a while to find any of the others.

Before you was fiery Tove, a tallish Viking girl-woman from a house named ‘Alfson,’ not so influential as it was just there and nearly forgotten. In it, she was like a polished gem among a lot of plain, unassuming stones. She was also a member of your peer group, aged older by about nearly a winter. She’d been born in the warmer month, when the sun was at its hottest and the earth was at its greenest.

You settled by her with crossed arms, close enough to be recognized as part of the group and yet not close enough to hint towards any one specific alliance. 

It was the darkest of nights above yet the fires rendered it light as day. You tried your hardest not to inhale any of the soot as you watched the rest -the two of four, really- fooling, knocking into each other with rough shoulders as you worked where it really mattered.

Your peer group was a large one. The number of you here was only a smallish fraction of a whole, the rest drawn away in the moment by other troubles and politics.

They’d grown complacent in the chaos, used to the raging fires and battle as you all were, carelessly leaving the fires around to burn and eat away at everything. You kept yourself still and casual in spite of it, knowing that, here, words and tussles were just as dangerous as the rock-shattering jaws of any beast.

Brigading was a task born more to temper the fires of the eager younger men more than it was to assure the sanctity of the village, though no task was without its uses- more often than not, however, you all ended up taking up a weapon and battling to your own ends.

Still, you took it seriously. 

You’d not so much been invited into the brigade as you’d one day picked up a bucket and started helping along in silence, though you probably would have been asked along eventually. 

Approval from the others had been slow to garner and yet it was strong, anchoring- you’d no intention of trying to shake it, though you believed it would be hard to.

With the thick wooden handle lying clenched within one hand, you stopped above the smooth, round top of a viking helmet, resting your foot against it as if you were at the edge of a cliff with a sword.

You’d rather be, at least in the day, when the smoke would be blown out and the air fresh and clear.

“-Codswallop!” The one with the protestant words was Duckmaw, who belonged to a set of intimidating burly arms and short-cropped, burned blonde-ish hair typically hidden under a helmet that had made him look bald, soot darkened face scratched and laying posed under your fuzzy brown boot. 

He was unusually brawny and bold for his breed but was also just as soft- he was an Ingerman. Ingermans, though bustingly fierce as any other Viking, also tended to be the most tempered.

“You lot are all the same- tubby poets, you are!” Bjorner spoke back with sharper words. He was the second, and a Thorston, though his second name, Evenson, did not quite match his ties. He also didn’t quite stand on par with his blood, a bit thicker and more prone to jumping into battle than the rest of his clan, who preferred a good bit of taunting first. 

His family was a branch-off- one of many, as there tended to be with the Thorstons. “Gooey hearts and even weaker swords.”

“Your words are of poor taste, though I’d expect no less from a bastard!” Duckmaw shrugged aggressively forwards, jerking away, half turning before he thought to face Bjorner again, stepping closer this time. He looked quite silly with his rounder, younger face and slightly more plump body, standing nearly chest-to-chest with a man who was about two winners his senior.

Absent from your lot were a Hilde and an Arne, who was a plump and tall, honorable nearly-man with blonde hair who was suspiciously absent. Away in a fashion that remained unexplained or pondered was a Jorunn, Frode and Hjerson and a Njal.

“Agh, the lot of them,” Trove spoke appealingly, panting slightly, having brought herself to your side, nudging you in the shoulder. She was thicker than you by about a half and a great deal taller, so her elbow landed more against the top of it than along the side, “We womenfolk know better, yes?”

You gave her a skeptical, apathetic eye before turning your attention back to the conflict, standing still and firm- she hadn’t knocked you hard enough to unbalance you though she had given you quite the hard jab, albeit half of it must have been without intention, the other half with surety and mild competition.

Trove didn’t take so much offense, probably more used to your silence and your stoic behavior now than before, when she also used to grace you with a gruff, judging eye.

“I’m no bastard!” Bjorner barked deeply, squaring his shoulders and stepping forwards again. You couldn’t make out all of it, the sound of splintering wood and the white noise of cooking everything raging for but a moment. “But at least my mother’s no manky whore!”

Gritting his teeth, Duckmaw didn’t back down, even as the thin brown furs still attached to Bjorner’s leather overcoat brushed up against his jaw. His arm- the one facing you- twitched up and down as if he’d wanted to lift it, meaty fists clenching uproariously. “Don’t speak of her that way, you-! You-!”

Your even face did nothing to hide your apathy, even as your eyes stayed trained on them.

Their argument went beyond petty bonds and snippish words- it was, in truth, not their argument at all- more an argument of their house, monoliths of Vikings to which they were of little consequence. It was some tiff over land and the excuse was woodstock. The conflict had grown itself into a mighty feud. 

“Tis the hobby of fools, to spend all their time arguing about their mamies,” Tove said, her freed red hair still doing wonders to blend her in with the fires, some sticking to skin and face, red, pale and slick with sweat like fish’s skin.

You nearly rolled your eyes. As you did, you caught something from the corner of your eye.

“How’ve you lot been doing?” You heard, nearly lost under the crackling of fires and crumbling of houses, the sound of battle-cry off in the distance. He had a plaintive, respectable voice, still somehow smoothe even under the assault of smoke and ash, all male and deep. 

…Ah. Here came the cavalry with a bucket of his own.

You graced swept blonde hair with a nod, what should have been wheat made russet by soot and fire, bursting from the back of Arne’s head where the front was covered by a metal mask- a hazard, as it was, metal being prone to heat and melt under the vicious might of dragon fire. 

You suspected, in a few years, he might have one mighty burn scar running down the side of his face- if he made it out of the whole ordeal alive, as it was. 

His clothes were torn and he sported a bloody gash on one arm- he’d gotten caught up in some battle, then. He was the only one of them who’d already been accepted by the warriors as one of their own, who’d taken up a sword with quiet determination as the rest of them stayed managing buckets.

You occasionally joined him- you hadn’t received any fuss either, and yet… Well, the others needed managing… Watching, more than anything.

He nodded back at you as you levied up your bucket, grasping it by the bottom.

You huffed a breath of hair, blowing away a heavy tuft of soot as it threatened to hit you in the face, unusually large yet very thin, almost enough to be called a burnt wood scrap.

“-That’s what I thought,” Bjorner said maliciously, distantly- he’d jerked forward, and during the time you’d been distracted, Duckmaw, younger and more naive, had faltered. 

You stilled. It didn’t matter so much who was what in this minor, petty battle of wills. It wouldn’t change the outcome. 

It was only by an odd fluke of politics that you’d ended up here, a fisher’s girl from nowhere island, and so while not at all illicit in origin, you were no better than a bastard. 

Here, in this world of blood and fire there was no room for the girl in the woods. You knew that with a quiet, simmering surety, painfully aware of the small square booklet in your back pocket, padding against your thigh as you moved, fresh leather delicately held shut with a clasp, pressing deeply the dulling, colored faces of soft, pressed flowers.

[ddejavvu]

What if one Monday after a weekend of crying over her bully!Eddie, he tells her she looks like shit and like she hasn't slept in days and she can't help but tear up so he silently vows to take care of her, and he'd force her to sit on his lap and sleep during lunch and little things like that. He'd leer at anyone who so much as looked her way, he needed her to have a peaceful day. He'd call her his little crybaby and make her give him little kisses as thankyous for taking care of her but she doesn't care, it's better than him pushing her around and smacking her ass in front of anyone who happens to be around.

What Eddie didn't realise is in this constant change of behaviour, he'd conditioned her to need him whenever she's overtired or sad. She'd start calling him in the middle of the night asking for him to come over and help her sleep. He never wanted to- he wanted to tell her no, call her mean names and put her back in her place but he couldn't bring himself to let her down. Every time he would rush to her house, climb through her window and fuss/kiss her until she was so relaxed and cosy she drifted off. He was never there when she woke up but there'd always be a thanku nudey polaroid or magazine in his locker or car as a thankyou for taking care of her

-🐱, sorry if this one is a lil weird- my meds have sent my lil horny goblin brain into mushy gushy subspace, I wanna be babied by a meanie lmao

today is multiverse monday! send me an au you can think of :)

i'll write the second part as a part 2!! it's very cute but i couldn't fit it all in one blurb </3

cw // bully!eddie. nothing terrible, he doesn't ever hurt her or anything, he's just annoying as fuck - don't like don't read

Eddie's grip on your wrist hasn't loosened since you'd walked out of class. Typically, he pushes you around, catching you before you trip and teasing you for being so off-balance. Today, though, he drags you through the doors of the cafeteria, and your stomach drops. Is he going to humiliate you in front of the entire room? Is he going to dump milk over your head, soak your shirt so that it's stuck to your figure? Is he going to shove your face in a plate of mashed potatoes and show you off to the crowd? Is he going to force you to eat something he steps on? Is he going to-

You're sitting in his lap. He's plopped down on a bench, yanking you down by one arm so that you land on his thighs. He has you facing him, your chest pushed up against his as you stare bewilderedly at him.

"Lay down," He demands, pushing his hand against the back of your head so that your face is forced over his shoulder, "You're tired. You look like shit, honey."

Your eyes fill with tears from where you're struggling to fight his grip, and he scoffs.

"Not a bad thing, crybaby. I'm not being mean, I'm being honest. Y'look like you haven't slept for days," He lets the back of your head go, thumbing roughly at the bags under your eyes, "I won't kick you while you're down. That's not really my thing. Just take a nap, get your sleep, so I can go back to messing with you."

Without another word he's pushing again at the back of your head, and you let his words sink in while you rest on his shoulder. You shouldn't let him keep you here like this. You should insist on studying in the library, or some other place he wouldn't dare enter. But he's warm, his shirt is soft, and though the smell of weed makes your nose wrinkle, there's musk beneath it that makes your tummy twist. His hand settles on your thighs, just below the hemline of your skirt, and rubs up underneath it, brushing the globes of your ass where they meet your thighs. You shiver, tucking your face into his neck so that you can drown out the noise of the lunchroom.

He gets strange looks when you finally doze off. Jeff sends him a glance that's far from friendly, nose wrinkled in judgement, disgust, and probably a little jealousy. He makes the decision to chuck an apple slice at him instead of an entire apple, which he's sure the man appreciates. Mike takes note of this, and schools his expression to be neutral, as he avoids asking about you like the rest of them.

When the school bell rings you don't wake, instead still lightly snoring against his neck. He thinks he can feel drool there too, and he'd be lying if he said the thought didn't stiffen his cock.

"Hey," He taps at your side, one hand still flush to your ass, "Come on, honey. Time to wake up, nap's over."

Your eyes flutter open, he can feel the lashes against his skin.

"You feeling any better?" He asks as you straighten from his lap, your hands braced against his chest for stability as everyone vacates the room, on their way to their next class.

"You're looking a bit better," He muses, not waiting for an answer. He once again rubs a thumb over the bags under your eyes, but then his fingers slip down to grip your chin. He pulls your face down, ignoring the way your hands tighten in his shirt in alarm.

"Eddie, what-"

"You owe me a thank you," He speaks only centimeters away from your lips, "I didn't have to be this nice to you, y'know. I could have flipped your skirt up like I always do."

You sniffle once, nodding as much as you can while he holds your face to his.

"Well?" His eyebrows raise, "I'm waiting."

"Thank you, Eddie." You mumble, the tip of your nose brushing his own, "I appreciate it."

He scoffs, "Not what I meant," And kisses you firmly. There's no pulling back, not when his fingers are hooked around your chin and tugging you impossibly closer. He backs away after only a moment, leaning back expectantly.

"Your turn," He explains, "Say thank you, crybaby."

Your hands inch up his chest as you lean in, lips parted to capture his lower one in between them. You feel him squeeze at the fleshy curve of your ass when you do, and there's a devilish glint in his eyes when you pull away.

"That's not gonna cut it, honey." He laughs, and then he's moving back for more. You're not sure how many times he does it, relentlessly jamming his lips to yours, but you're not sure you can stand up straight when he finally gets his fill.

"It's less than I want, but it'll do." He decides, patting the bare skin of your ass, now aching from where he'd kneaded it, "You'd better get to class now, honey. Don't be late, or I won't be this nice to you again."

[embrace-and-love]

Reacting to The Vampire Lestat - Part II (with a bit of spoilers)

I found out my problem with the narration and description isn't with Anne, but Lestat. That dude sometimes focuses on the most useless stuff instead of telling what is happening or what he's feeling. I'm like, Lestat de Lioncourt, get your priorities (not) straight? But it's not much of a problem anymore now, because it gives me a better idea of who he is and how he thinks, so I appreciate that. I enjoy the immersion, even with someone as chaotic and as distracted as he is.

Turns out when Lestat FINALLY gives me a good picture of things, it's with the WORST event possible.

Remember what Louis said about the little drink? That's the whole experience from the moment Magnus kidnaps Lestat, turns him, kills himself before his eyes and leaves him completely alone. Multiply your worst case scenario by a trillion.

Not that I would want Magnus to stay, God forbid, but the next moment is still pretty bad. You might believe it gets better after his death, but it's not immediately.

Lestat goes from being too frozen to move, to fighting with every fiber of his being and then trying to take it as a positive thing? Which, well, it's a realistic reaction to it, but also heartbreaking.

It's not exactly "rape", but it has pretty much everything a rape can have without penetration? So it basically felt like the same thing to me.

It's quite a long chapter, it's considerably graphic (at least for me), took me over 2 hours to finish it (maybe it was even closer to 3 hours, I don't remember anymore, but I struggled a lot), I kept taking pauses, whenever I thought it was over it kept going and kept getting worse.

It is well-written in the way that makes sense, that moves the story, that narrates and describes what's happening with details, that you can really picture it in your head, that is extremely intense and emotional... But it's obviously not an exciting part.

I feel bad for the way Lestat immediately shifts afterwards and tries to make the most of it. Not that I wanted him to be miserable and feeling sorry for himself, but I'm like, something terrible happened to you and it's okay to take time to deal with it. I'm not even sure he understands how traumatic that was? If he does, he doesn't acknowledge it, let alone admit it. Not even to himself. And it's just frustrating.

Even after I read it, it stuck with me and took me more than a day to get over. I kept remembering it even when I was doing totally different stuff.

It's cool to navigate through things with him as Lestat finds more about how his body and powers operate.

When he went to the village and began to experiment with his powers was fun. Him jumping, cutting trees and whatever the other silly things he was doing and I can't fully remember... It was like an ADHD child high on sugar and sort of cute.

Is that presence... Armand?

You can take the man out of the church, but you can't take the church out of the man (or the vampire), apparently.

This probably isn't necessary, but I want that scene that he sees the house with the family and reads their thoughts? The idea of seeing the thoughts of babies is so sweet... It's not even for him, it's more of a me thing, I guess. I would just like to see it. I don't know. Maybe I'm being too sensitive and PMSing lol. Don't @ me.

Lestat has kissed so many people at this point and he hardly gives details, so I'm like, what are you kissing? A cheek? A hand? A mouth? Is it a friendly peck on the lips? Is it tongue-kissing? Elaborate? I mean, I don't care because the way he does it feels as trivial as a fart lmao. The only one he really has a deeper relationship with so far is Nicki, so I only kind of care about Lestat with him. It's not really a problem, but I just find the whole thing vague and ridiculous lol.

It's not even Lestat that has BPD, but BPD has Lestat at this point. The man is intense, has crazy mood swings, has extreme reactions to things, engages in dangerous behavior, is highly irresponsible with money, has a chronic fear of being alone... I know one when I see it. And vampirism didn't fix it, it only made it worse.

A bit off topic, but there's something about France that is so enchanting? I've always been obsessed with it in some ways, some places, the architecture, the language, the art... It's not like I'm a big nerd or anything, I can't barely name stuff to save my life, but just looking, hearing and thinking about it... There's just some charm to it. I've realized that the simple fact of stories being set in France makes me excited for some reason. I would love if they filmed there and in some of my favorite spots (cough Sainte-Chapelle and Carcassonne cough), for the mere reason it would look gorgeous and they should because I said so. Maybe in a past life I lived there or something, but I've always had that fascination, God knows why.

"Why the hell did Anne write and word it like that?" moment #1, I guess. At least it was fast and I can erase it from my memory.

The book has gotten quite faster and more eventful now, it's definitely better than when I first started it. I hate when it takes too long for things to happen, so this pace is good. And crucial moments happen pretty early on, which I appreciate. It's nice to know I've read some of the most important events by now, even as disturbing as they are. One of the downsides of being in this fandom is not having the full information, so already knowing part of the big events is satisfying.

P.S. Nothing is permanent, opinions might change and this is based on Lestat's narration, which can be unreliable. I'm reading the books so I can find out more about the characters, what potential events might happen in the show, what I can expect etc. This is my favorite show in the universe, so I want to be as informed as possible. I have no idea if I'll become a legit fan of the books or not, but so far I'm enjoying it. I'm posting these comments only for fun.

[onyourowndaisymae]

Yoo I have two request which I’ll send the other one separately but I am in an ANGSTY mood rn sooo yah also been binging ur headcanons and stuffs and I just love the way you write ?? It’s so entertaining lol

AnywY the actual request: can you write like a one shot or headcanons if you prefer of mc who is struggling after the belphie incident ?? Like they feel like they’ve mostly forgiven him and can act normally around him and they’re friends and take naps together but sometimes the flash back just HITS THEM and they have nightmares and panic attacks that can be so bad sometimes someone needs to get Simeon to calm them down. Maybe something of how the brothers react/treat mc and belphie? Idk I’m just thirsting for like MEGA ANGST rn bc my dad made me cry little bit lmao 😭

it comes at night

hello anon! i'm terribly sorry you're in such an angsty mood, though i thank you for all the love-- and for sending this request right as these ideas were on the front of my mind. it genuinely makes me so happy to see people enjoying my work, and it makes all the writer's block and such worth it. i cannot express enough how much i love seeing all the comments, reblogs, etc. as people engage with my work.

anyways. i'm not sure how i feel about this piece, especially with how LONG it ended up being, but maybe that's just my mushy brain talking after looking at it too long. regardless-- i hope you enjoy (well, y'know, in like a sad and angsty way).

synopsis: you thought you would be able to move on like all the others. your body was healed, your anxiety tucked neatly behind a mental wall built to keep you safe. yet something in you was stuck. you couldn't just move on. you were trapped in a battle between your friendship with belphegor and the fear gnawing at your brain as you remembered what exactly he did to you. when the dam finally breaks, your whole brain floods with terror, until you're swept away with it. nobody can save you now.

genre: angst, no happy end, just a big ol spoonful of sadness

word count: ~3.1k

content warnings: chapter 16 spoilers, graphic(?) discussions of death, depictions of panic attacks, nightmares, mc progressively getting worse from fear + lack of sleep

it's funny how time works. 

you'd been around your fair share of years. you’d grown, you’d changed, you’d spent your entire life looking toward the future you had planned. then you, a mere human, were yanked into an unfamiliar world. you spent an entire year in the devildom– a year that simultaneously dragged on and flew by– and came out the other side a new person. a single year in the devildom has changed you more than the human realm has your entire life. time was a mischievous thing, always leaving you chasing behind in a fruitless pursuit of something you’ll never quite understand.

but, she also brings blessings with her. they say that time heals all wounds. you've always agreed with that sentiment. scraped knees and adolescent broken hearts are swept away with the passing days, trailing further and further behind you until one day you forget to look back and remember them. the pain scribbled down on diary pages or cried into pillow cases no longer stings like a fresh burn. these things are nothing but scars now. time has a special way of patching you up, of rubbing your back until the tears clear up and you can finally see again. that is how it's always been. 

where is time when you need it? 

she hasn't quite abandoned you, this much is true. cuts and bruises heal over the passing days. your hair and nails still grow. your body still changes, slowly but surely, marching onwards week after week. yet your mind is trapped in stasis. you struggle to break free, but at times the rot consumes you whole, until you’re crying under the covers and begging from respite from the memories. 

on the worst nights, you find yourself in the attic again, watching the door between you and belphegor swing open. you watch yourself march towards death.

you can still feel his hands around your neck, digging his claws into your fragile human skin like you're made of sand. the scent of blood-- your own blood, on the floors, on the walls, leaking from your torso and staining your clothes a permanent maroon-- still clings to the inside of your nose. even your wildest dreams could not erase the sight of his smug grin, the way his eyes lit up looking at your battered body.

no one person should have to carry the weight of realizing they're going to die. that's what you thought about when your body hit the bottom of the stairs, when belphegor tossed you down from the attic with a harsh laugh and punted your limp body into the entrance hall. you thought about how unfair this all was. you were just trying to help. you thought you were doing the right thing.

one of the worst parts of your untimely demise was watching the others react. the voices pool together in your head, like the colors of the rainbow twisting together on the surface of an oil spill. asmo's panicked shriek blends into satan's angry shouts, desperate to understand what's going on. lucifer's yelling almost drowns out the fearful cries coming from levi, held back by a very silent beel. 

but above all of that, you remember mammon. your first man, the first demon who took a chance on the defenseless little human, rushing to your side and gathering you in his arms like you were about to break. his hand on the side of your face, the tears streaming down his face, the shaky, desperate voice assuring you that you'll be okay and begging you to hang on, okay? please don't leave me. you can't remember if he was shaking or if it was your body's last ditch effort to stay conscious-- maybe both. your trembling fingers intertwined with his. words came out of your mouth, and you're not sure what exactly you said, but he only cried harder in response. 

and then, as your eyes shut for the final time, you woke at the bottom of the attic stairs. you had cheated death. 

your price? you had to carry the memories. 

the world kept spinning. days passed in the devildom. you returned to school, kept on top of your homework, spent your days in the house of lamentation alongside the seven demon brothers. you even got to know belphegor as he navigated his return home. he quickly grew fond of you. that, in and of itself, was jarring. but you returned each and every smile with one of your own. his actions were rooted in his own grief for his sister, you knew, and for that you could not fault him. you helped him repair the severed relationships between him and his elder siblings, stitching the family back together like a prized quilt until the seams of betrayal were sufficiently hidden. 

time is a traitorous bitch. why did she choose now to leave your wounds bare and bleeding?

everyone moved on but you. everyone got to wake up in the mornings without a nagging anxiety holding them back. the others could hang out with belphegor day in and day out without a growing feeling of dread popping up when you think you're safe. 

he killed you. he was grieving. your blood drenched the entryway floors as he laughed. he has grown. you watched the light leave mammon's eyes as you slipped away. belphie has been nothing but kind to you since that day. you fucking died. 

you wish your mind could pick a side. did you forgive him, or did you resent him? was he your friend, or your killer? these answers evaded you in the dead of night as you struggled to sleep again. it was becoming more common for you to lose hours of rest to these nagging fears. who are you? are you even you anymore? did the switch in timelines scatter your atoms across countless universes, leaving the you that looks back at you in the mirror nothing more than a hollow shell? 

you thought that you could keep your mind on a tight leash, keep your cards close to your chest as you continued to live with the brothers. you were wrong.

the first meltdown came during a nap with belphie. you had grown to trust him-- you thought you trusted him-- enough to sleep around him. he'd coax you every so often into an afternoon nap. always in the light of day, always your choice. and for many afternoons, you were perfectly content with this arrangement. belphie was warm and cuddly, a perfect companion for a lazy afternoon. he had this way of making you feel safe as you slept-- the nightmares couldn't come when he was snuggled up next to you, when you were sure his actions were ones of affection and not another trick to gain your trust.

one afternoon, while the sun was beginning to set, you stirred under the warmth of the blankets. the body next to yours lingered close, steady breaths lulling you back to dreamland. you could stay like this forever, you thought.

and then you felt it. the gentle graze of a familiar cow tail against your skin.

something inside of you, a dam you didn't even know was there, snapped. a hot flash of panic rose up your throat as your whole body jerked away from the feeling. your eyes shot open and you found yourself in the last place you needed to be right now: the attic. you pulled yourself out of bed before your brain could catch up. colors flashed across your vision as a consequence. you whipped around, disoriented and upset, and spotted a sleeping belphie in the bed where you once were.

a sleeping, demon belphie.

the familiar curve of his horns made your throat spasm as you tried to breathe. the colors flashed in your vision again-- oh god, what a terrible time to be left defenseless-- as your brain tried to drag you back to that day. you could practically see his face shift from relief to malicious, insidious joy as he began to attack you.

"hehe... does it hurt? finding it hard to breathe? i'm sure it must be very unpleasant."

please. please no.

" i have to say, seeing a human face twisted in pain like this... why, it's so much fun that i can barely stand it! i... i can't contain the laughter!"

you weren't quite sure when you hit the ground, but it was loud enough to wake belphegor from his slumber. he peeled his body off the mattress, slow and dazed, as he looked for you.

"mc? what're you... what's going on?"

please don't. this can't be happening.

your lungs collapsed from the weight of your own panic. you gasped-- once, twice, as your vision went in and out. were you bleeding? your hand loosely brushed at the front of your clothes, but couldn't process whether that was blood or your vivid imagination. were you even breathing? your head felt light and heavy at the same time. the wires in your brain were all crossed, sending both resuscitation and shutdown signals to each part of your body. this feeling... this was too familiar.

were you dying?

"mc, what's going on?"

you came face to face with belphegor. your friend, your killer. the demon who had lured you up to this very attic to kill you, now gripping your shoulders as interrogated you inches from your face.

you screamed. you screamed until your brain shut off completely, leaving you in an inky pit of darkness as your consciousness slipped away.

the house was in disarray for several days. apparently, lucifer came in shortly after you passed out, mammon at his heels, to save the day. you woke up later in his bed, the room cold and empty, with a throbbing head and a tear stained pillow. you stumbled out into his office to find him at his desk, lost in some paperwork like always. the solemn look he gave you as your eyes met told you everything you needed to know.

from this day forth, your fear was now your constant companion.

nobody in the house of lamentation knew how to move forward. not you, not the brothers, not the widening gap growing between you all with each passing day spent in emotional limbo. finally, lucifer called everyone to a family meeting where, over the course of an hour or two, everyone came to an agreement to acknowledge what had happened and why, promised to be mindful of this trauma that you're carrying, and move forward like you requested.

silent days slowly but surely filled back up with laughter again. the brothers came back to your side at their own pace-- asmo first, within a matter of hours, then mammon shortly after, then the others in the following days.

belphegor was the last to come around. his silence spoke volumes about his guilt. he had no clue how to comfort you. he'd do anything to repent for his actions. yet that was the way that life worked, didn't it? some actions simply cannot be undone.

but you didn't let that stop you. despite the panic that closed your throat every time you saw him for the next month, you slowly earned his friendship again. you assured him that the attic incident was a one time thing, the remnants of a lost nightmare blending into your consciousness as you awoke.

until it wasn't a one time thing.

the nightmares crept up on you. the first one happened, of course, that same night, as you thrashed and wept into lucifer's pillows. then a week later, another. a week and a half after that, another. the frequency eventually became higher and higher, until you started planning your sleep schedule (or lack thereof) around your new insomniac tendencies. but even you couldn't manage to stay awake forever.

on a bad night, you'd wake up in tears, crying weakly to yourself as you tried to coax yourself back to bed. on worse nights, you'd shoot up out of bed, limbs tingling in fear, opting to spend the rest of the night in the common room until the others woke for the day. on the worst night, you finally broke. you shattered worse than you could have imagined.

you finally collapsed into bed, body shutting down after a three days of minimal sleep. you were starting to get shaky from the lack of rest, and your lack of appetite was upsetting the others. you crawled under the covers and let your brain slip out of your hands and off to dreamland.

what a fool you were to think you'd get by without nightmares.

visions of demonic teeth tearing at your flesh filled your head. you tried to run away, tried desperately to wake yourself up, but their claws sunk into your flesh. the pain was vivid, was real. memories of your death lived underneath your skin, ready to resurface in the dark of night when there was no escape. you fought back as best you could, kicking and screaming and trying to run, but you were no match for the supernatural strength of your demons. you eventually gave in, an act of learned helplessness, and surrendered yourself to your worst nightmares.

you woke up choking on your own tears. heaving, gasping breaths tried to save you, mixing with coughs as your body struggled to hang on. the tears finally gave way to the memories-- hot blood dripping from your torso, screaming faces begging you to stay, your head going fuzzy as your vision followed--and your screams escaped without a fight.

a mixed cacophony of voices came flooding in the room. you'd be touched by the gesture, seeking comfort in the arms of your dearest friends, if your brain hadn't reminded you that they were demons as well. nightmarish beasts with fangs and claws, predators built to rip your soft flesh from your bones and leave you to die like roadkill.

you felt a hand on your shoulder. who's was it? you could not tell. your first and only instinct was to scream for mercy, hot tears streaming down your face as mammon's hurt expression moved back out of your line of sight. your chest heaved with effort. it felt like your whole body was caving in on itself. you didn't even realize you were shaking as you curled your body into a ball. your side hit the mattress with a pathetic thud and you wept, bitter and fearful, as a panic attack kept you trapped in its grip.

you don't know how long you stayed curled up like that, wordless cries echoing from your room and into the hallway, but eventually the sound of approaching footsteps caught enough of your attention to forget the panic, even if just for a moment.

"hey, it's okay," a familiar, comforting voice approached, cutting through the fear like a moonlight on a stormy night. "mc, it's me, it's simeon. it's going to be okay."

you felt the bed shift under the weight of someone sitting down, and you blindly threw your body at the person before checking to see if it was really him. it took you a few moments to raise your head, and when you did, you saw him: simeon, your angel, blue eyes full of worry as he met your gaze.

you cried in his arms until you fell into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

the next morning was miserable, to say the least. breakfast was tense. they all watched you like a hawk, like you were a powder keg about to explode with one wrong move. you couldn't blame them. you were afraid of your own emotions, and on some level, you were afraid of them. your trauma was making you afraid of the very people you cared about the most. these brothers had welcomed you into their home, took care of you as you adjusted to life in the devildom, and yet you couldn't hold eye contact without breaking in to a cold sweat.

the only person who did not watch you was belphegor. he was nowhere to be found during breakfast, nor dinner, nor breakfast the following day. you tried to seek him out, but somehow the avatar of sloth had become a skilled sneak in his silence.

you finally caught him alone on day four of radio silence. you both had stayed home without realizing the other had also skipped school that day-- you, from the lack of sleep eating at your brain, and belphegor, with his usual routine of missing class to nap at the house of lamentation. he was curled up on the couch in the common room, basking in the warmth of the fireplace in his slumber. you decided to wait for him to wake up. you sat down on the couch opposite of the one where he rested and watched him, quietly, like he'd disappear if you dared to blink.

creepy? yes. but your brain was long ruined by sleep deprivation and gnawing anxiety to worry about such trivial things.

when he finally stirred, you gently called belphegor's name. he took a moment to finally look at the source of the voice, but when he did, his body froze as the two of you made eye contact. a few moments passed in silence. finally, he sat up and began to make a move to leave.

"wait."

he stopped, but his gaze did not meet yours. you rose from your seat and joined him on the couch. the youngest pulled his legs in, twisting his body into a defensive little ball, and countered your next sentence before you could even open your mouth.

"you shouldn't be here with me."

"i think i'm old enough to make decisions for myself."

he shifted uncomfortably in the silence. you spoke again.

"i miss you. and i'm sorry."

he scoffed to himself and stared at the fireplace. "don't know why you think you should be apologizing to me. i'm the one that's the problem."

"you're not a problem, belphie. i never meant to make you feel like one."

every hair on your body stood on end. your hands trembled against your wishes, so you sat on them to stay focused. you had to do this. you had to keep moving forward.

"i hurt you, mc. you're afraid i'm going to do it again."

you sighed-- it came out more shaky than you would have liked-- and looked down. how had it come to this? how had someone you'd grown to hold so dear become a stranger again?

"i don't want to stop being friends. i don't like when you avoid me."

"you still get nightmares, don't you?"

you pause. his icy gaze on the side of your head sent you into a cold sweat.

you smiled-- it felt more like a grimace, personally-- and prayed it didn't come across insincere. your fingers carefully intertwined with his. he met your gaze. you were thankful he couldn't see the way your chest tightened when you made eye contact. 

"i'm okay, belphie," you lied. 

this fear was going to be the death of you. 

[foldingfittedsheets]

re: your theory on DnD characters and personal struggles -- i have only had one DnD character so far, v high charisma, tried to charm everyone they met (and not like the spell. just like, with actual social charm) and i also happen to be aware of the fact that i do actually have a desperate, sometimes almost crippling need for anyone and everyone to like me all of the time! what a coincidence that all my unfinished character plans also always have very high charisma!! i guess what i'm trying to say is: your theory is probably at least somewhat correct

and also that makes sense. using your character as an extension of yourself in a subconscious attempt to deal with your deeprooted emotional issues seems like not a terrible coping strategy! (altho i think it could also be a subconscious attempt to validate one's own insecurities, which would be. less healthy)

sorry for the long ask, love the comics, love the blog, thank you and say hi to the beloved for me (or maybe don't bc that would be weird and parasocial lmao)

Yeah, it’s one of the reasons I tend to play bards. I’m gonna achieve a good grade in social skills, something that is normal to want and possible to achieve!

[x-authorship-x]

Can't stop thinking about some sort of Actor AU with Shisui reading for the first time the script of his death and having a whole reaction like, "THAT'S how I die? What?? Suicide, seriously??" talking with Itachi about how terribly written the scene is and arguing that there are so many more ways of him to die better than this! In ways that would make more sense for his character! And Itachi listens to it all while nodding because yeah, Shisui's completely right

*holds your hands and spins you in a circle* ANON, I LOVE AN ACTOR AU!!!❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

this is all so accurate lmao you know that picture from the script reading for game of thrones???

That's the room when shisui yeets himself over the cliff and leaves Itachi's child actor standing there, eye in hand, looking like a whole ass murderer lmao

Okay but can we also imagine an Actors AU for my HOPE AU? Like I'm sorry I'll never leave that series alone but can we talk about this chaos?!

Bonus points if:

shisui being originally his character's stunt double and then something happens and the actor pulls out so Shisui is thrown the script and absolutely kills it (like that story about how Harrison Ford was the carpenter hanging the door when Lucas was running Star Wars auditions etc etc)

Inoichi's actor bringing in his own daughter to play Ino because she's an absolute force of nature

Sasuke's actor is actually played by Shisui's actor's little brother and it's this running joke that he likes Itachi's actor so much more 😂 (ino's actor taking insult to this and wanting her dad to take shisui home with them for real)

Itachi's mother is actually mikoto's actress who was the ideal casting but wouldn't let her son, who did adverts and stuff as a child model, attend the set without her... She makes filming a bit of a nightmare

Kakashi goes full Robert Patterson and starts wildly lying in interviews, his character was supposed to be way more intimidating, like a proper military hardass, but this is what you get when you cast an indie actor who proceeds to wear the strangest face coverings to all promotions (including a paper bag with cut out eyes to "preserve Kakashi's modesty") (the mask was also the actors idea, citing it was mysterious and dehumanising to his character... Only to later reveal it's because he didn't want to take his lipring out)

Kisame spends about 6 hours in hair and makeup every morning and he has to wear one of those huge cgi suits to make him taller (like Beast in live action beauty and the beast) and the struggle to take him seriously is REAL

Kana the crow... Is this huge green lump that shisui has to talk to so seriously, like a bull machine, and Akira is this stuffed green puppet lmao Kakashi please stop doing a David Attenborough commentary impression off camera

Danzo's actor was a huge heartthrob when he was younger and everyone who recognises him is both impressed and horrified at the transformation

Fugaku's actor becomes a meme for being photographed at several rallies standing off with police only to get cast as a Shinobi cop 😂

Sarutobi's actor is the guy they ALWAYS cast to play Old Wise Man (no one is quite sure what he did before he was old enough for these roles)

Tenzo's actor is a famous singer and this is his - very unexpected - breakout role and his fans almost break the barrier at the red carpet when he walks out

Like c'mon this is just 🤌🤌🤌 to me ✨

[auspex]

ranking my current and former special interests

NOTES: this is not a tier list of everything i like. in fact there are several things i spent more time on and liked just as much that aren't on this list, but i can feel when i become Abnormal about something and it becomes a special interests. explanations under the cut

from this i learned i need more special interests that aren't media, but at least my current special interest, WoD, encourages me to be creative... unfortunately i also cannot pick my special interests T_T

in text form:

S: Birds

A: World of Darkness, Mitski

B: A Song of Ice and Fire (book series); Star Wars; Maoism (plaese read explanation lmao); Animal Crossing; Darkest Dungeon; Puella Magi Madoka Magica; Portal

C: Binding of Isaac, Yuri on Ice

F: Homestuck, LoveNikki

S Birds: Pure, wonderful creatures, i want my special interest to revive instead of just loving them. like this was my first special interest i think. i love birds.... ERA: Childhood

A WoD: I know it has many issues but it gains points for A) making me do creative stuff B) bringing me out of a dark place C) gaining me wonderful internet friends and D) being current special interest. ERA: PRESENT (mid-20s)

Mitski: I'm normal about her now, but oh my god. impeccable. no notes really. shout out to mitski for being in top 10 spotify wrapped for me since 2019. and breaching top 5 a majority of those times. ERA: Late Teens, early 20s

B ASOIAF: I'm glad there's at least one meaty book series here. It loses points because of GRRM being Weird and misogynistic often, as well as Bad TV show, and being NEVER FINISHED but. im sorry. its good. ERA: Mid high school

Star Wars: By god i can watch episode iii a billion times and the novelization changed me deeply. obi wan i am still obsessed with you. however. it loses points. due to. Well. you know. Disney... :( ERA: Middle school and early high school

Maoism: OK so. thank u maoism for helping me figure out and articulate my beliefs and giving me a sense of purpose. however. i also joined a political org that turned out to be Terrible due to it. so. it loses points for that. and also while i still largely agree w/the ideology im still refiguring out my politics after that half politicalorg half cult debacle ERA: Early 20s

Animal Crossing: You saved me in high school, thank you ERA: Middle school and all of high school

Darkest Dungeon: I LOVE YOU DARKEST DUNGEONNN but it hasn't sparked any creativity, just consumption, so it is limited in that way. ERA: Mid high school

Puella Magi Madoka Magica: Gorgeous show, influenced me to become an anime fan, has its issues though ERA: Early High School

Portal: Excellent game. i was indeed abnormal about it in high school. however i struggle to see where it had positive lasting impact on me, it was just kinda there. but its v good! ERA: Early high school

C Binding of Isaac: Another game that saved my in high school, however it got so many expansions and i dropped it. it loses points cause unlike the other video games in B tier, i dont think ill ever return to it, or in the case of portal, straight up isn't as good. ERA: All of high school

Yuri on Ice: This was a cringe one but it was a very strong interest by god. theres not like, anything super wrong with it, just... yeah. moving on. ERA: A brief period in early college

F Homestuck: Oh god im so sorry. so many problems. both technical and moral. let's move on again: ERA: all of high school, unfortunately

LoveNikki: The only reason why homestuck isn't bottom of the barrel is because LoveNikki caused me to waste so much money (it is a mobile game) when i was depressed. it was a money sink. oh and the way they handle dressing up darker skin tones is racist and there are some racist outfits in it. so it pisses me off. ERA: A year in early college

[visinox]

What is your favorite ship and why?👀👀👀

Ehehe what a question :) I'll answer this for iterator ships! I do have favorite slugcat ships as well but those will come with my slugcat design post.

I have two favorites actually, that would be trafficlight and lilypad! Both of which are present with my version of the iterators.

Trafficlight is appealing to me in a way I haven't really found a way to articulate ahah. I just think Hara and Suns' personalities provide excellent contrast, I always am a sucker for the charismatic bold type and shy nervous type falling for each other. With the added layers of Suns making mistakes at times and Hara having the guts to tell them how it is.

With how I portray trafficlight, they realize their feelings at the exact same time but have absolutely opposite responses. Hara accepts it and begins to watch if Suns feels the same, while Suns is absolutely petrified AAHAH.

My version of Suns is quite cynical and tends to overthink, they also feel obligated to not go against the ancient's wishes lest something terrible happen (at least they think something might). They feel if they were to love Hara they would become tethered to life, which obviously they aren't supposed to be. So they fear angering the ancients spirits or whatever.

They are also aware they are absolutely head over heels for Hara, and they also fear loving him too much- Like they won't know how to move on when something bad inevitably happens.

Meanwhile, Hara has none of this existential dread LMAO. He doesn't care what the ancients think, and he has accepted they will all meet an end at some point, so they might as well enjoy things while it lasts. It takes Suns time to calm their anxieties, but they do eventually.

My version of Lilypad, meanwhile, is queerplatonic! That's why I kind of struggle tagging it as specifically lilypad- But y'know AHHWFUIIHFW. I will probably in the future though just with the addition of queerplatonic tags :) I'm still a bit new at this Tumblr buidness

But mine at least, they have an incredibly intimate friendship, they love each other very much, they know each other better then anyone else, they are besties 5 ever

If Suns is Hara's romantic soulmate, Moon is Hara's platonic soulmate. They are the oldest in their local group so they have a very particular "old friend" dynamic, something they call each other frequently. They're just a couple of geezers, they've always been a constant for each other through thick and thin.

I love this because they're just two goobers who love each other and I love that for them! They're mellow, like to have a good laugh, a very comfortable ship indeed. When things aren't going to hell that is.

And that's the post!

So sorry it was a bit lengthy, but thank you for asking this, and thank you for reading! It was very fun to answer aha. And both include Hara, alas he has two hands for a reason <3.