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bladie being a nice quiet boy 👍️

#your art op... #.. your mind!!!! #hsr #kafblade

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i'm always so fixated on blade being pathetic and dumb for kafka, worshipping the ground she walks on and falling apart at her command that it's taken me THIS long to start thinking about sub!kafka and... god... it's perfect because the former still applies, blade still worships her, he would do anything to make her feel good, and she lets him do his worst.

it's a different kind of trust. maybe she's only like this with blade. he's the only one to get her on her knees, looking up with tears in her eyes, hands obediently folded behind her back and thighs clenching. blade makes her feel small and pretty and fragile, like a doll. blade, who has big rough hands either calloused or bandaged, who wears his years of anguish on his once innocent face, who can make his voice sound so, so harsh, so coarse. even if kafka has to spend time coaxing him or working up his confidence, it's worth it, and she doesn't make him feel embarrassed, because when he sees what he can do to her with just his fingers, his touch and filthy words spilling from his mouth, he's addicted.

maybe this is another way he can gain control over the mara, a way to quell it. maybe even pre-emptively. maybe he can work it out like pent up energy before bed by rawing kafka from behind, his fingers shoved into her mouth to quieten her, because she is SUCH a screamer. she moans and whines and bites at him and gags, they're both messy and overstimulated and when blade spills his load in her cunt he's dizzy and his knees buckle, and kafka is able to vocalise properly again. blade musters up his stamina, cock aching and stomach hollow, exhausted - throwing himself across kafka's body, latching onto one of her nipples and sucking while his hand trails down to her soaking wet pussy; his thumb rubbing rough circles across her clit while he pumps in and out of her with two fingers until she cums, too. all to the soundtrack of her crying his name, and the pain of her nails digging into his skin.

#kafblade #hsr #unsafe #this is so fucking good op. thank you #kink

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haha i can’t believe i had most days of whumptober written and then just...didn’t post them. a real cool move by me don’t you think

#carys.txt

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↝ whumptober day 01: shackled

Akechi wakes up aching. He doesn’t remember how he got here but he’s shackled to something hard and flat—he cranes his neck up and ignores the powerful stab of pain in his head and neck. It looks like stone. It looks like his legs are shackled too.

He lets his head drop back down and tries to think. They were chasing a serial killer in the Metaverse—this is his palace.

But if Akechi is here, where are the rest of them? Not better off than him, for sure.

He makes a decision and grits his teeth. This is one of those tricks he hoped would never have to come in (ha) handy. But he doesn’t want to wait around for a crazy serial killer to get to him, so needs must.

Doesn’t make it easier to dislocate his thumb on purpose. He yanks and twists with brutal force, ignoring the pain as best as he can and swallowing the shrieks down to soft hisses when he can’t. But he whimpers when he finally gets his right hand free, and sits up to stare at his mangled hand through blurry eyes.

It’s just the pain getting to you, he tells himself, and doesn’t think about how bodily injuries incurred here stay in the real world too.

Then he yanks out his other hand.

#persona 5 #akechi goro #goro akechi #whumptober #shuake #carysfics #whumptober 01

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rain — 18 — any pronouns

writer; this is my writing sideblog

inactive at best.

main: @ciaran

archive of our own: intimatopia

#! dont reblog ! #carys.txt

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i never remember to actually post my fics here so! roundup post

my eyes burn [2.1k | odazai | t | written for the odazai exchange]

Dazai isn't used to trusting people, and neither is he used to wanting to trust people. Oda Sakunosuke is an exception.

polestar [2.2k | odazai | t | written for the odazai exchange]

Oda Sakunosuke is lonely until he meets Dazai late one night at a bar.

nearer my god [1.4k | soukoku | t | beast]

Depending on who you ask, it takes a lot to break Dazai Osamu—or very little.

Chuuya picks up the pieces.

something in pieces [1.5k | odazai | e | beast]

These are the things Dazai thinks about when he's too tired to hold them down.

#carys.txt #carysfics #soukoku #odazai

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[adhd is like]

me, lying: this thing affects me negatively

me: spends the entire day depressed

me at 1:35am: maybe I wasn't lying

#carys.txt #adhd

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writing goals for tomorrow are the beast × canonverse denial/loyalty odazai fic, thinking about it lads we really thinking about it

#hm.

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all brutal mirrors cracked

The one in which Dazai and Kunikida are swapped into each other's bodies by a mirror, and then their day gets worse.

12.4k • T rated • kunichuuzai

please read this I really enjoyed writing it even when it was hard ^_^

#carysfics #kunichuuzai #bsd

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odazai 

rating: m 

in which oda has tattoos 

Dazai dragged his hand through his hair. The hot water was beginning to run out but he wasn’t looking forward to the prospect of returning outside.

Outside, where he’d have to show Oda his body; although Oda had made it clear that Dazai didn’t have to, Dazai didn’t know how he’d live with himself if he let this chance slip through his fingers.

He wrapped the towel around himself and stepped out. Oda was waiting on the bed, shirtless. Dazai’s mouth went dry at the sight of him. More so because he’d never have predicted what lay under Oda’s staid clothes--tattoos, dark and extensive and beautiful. Black butterflies that swept across the backs of his shoulders and dark red flowers on the base of his spine, so terribly like him that Dazai forgot to be self-conscious.

“Hey there,” Oda said. “Have a good shower?”

“You,” Dazai started. He moved forward helplessly, until he could touch Oda’s warm skin with the tips of his fingers. “When.”

“A few years now,” Oda murmured, shrugging noncommittally. “Do you like them?”

“Odasaku,” Dazai breathed. He didn’t have any other words left inside him, so he pressed his lips to Oda’s soft dark red hair and sighed as his hands came up to wrap around Dazai. “Why?” Oda pulled Dazai into his lap instead of replying, and Dazai didn’t want to stop kissing him just yet. He let himself melt into that heat, Oda’s skilled gentleness dragging him out of his head.

“I have a lot of scars,” Oda murmured, half an age later. Dazai snuggled further into him. “From--that time.”

“To cover them up?” Dazai asked. It made sense, if he thought about it.

Oda nuzzled him back, breath sweet with the smell of toothpaste. “To make them mine.”

That gave Dazai pause. Even in the Mafia tattoos weren’t common, and between the way Oda’s hand was resting against Dazai’s spine and his own desperate self-loathing as he stood in front of a mirror, he began to wonder about getting tattoos of his own. “Do they hurt?” he tried hesitantly.

“Yes,” Oda laughed. “I got used to it, and I rather like it. You might not. It feels like ants, after a while.”

Dazai shuddered. But he still traced the swirling sharp black lines, and ached.

#carysfics #odazai

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howl and sophie! sksksksksks have u read the book version?

I have not! want to though :( after quarantine ends I might order it online

#anon #asks

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decided to try my hand at writing ronan confessing to adam! this is mostly for fun + i’m less than halfway through blue lily, lily blue, so my characterization is probably janky

They walked off the road slowly, Ronan’s parked BMW baking in the sun. It would be unbearably hot by the time they returned but for now it was morning and the grass crunched with dew under their feet.

Adam remained a careful distance from Ronan the entire time. Perhaps a few months back Ronan would’ve considered that distance with the vague condescension of a predator for a frightened prey animal. But Adam was far from fearful these days, no longer concerned by Ronan’s temper if he’d ever been. Now it was simply the distance of habit.

Birds wheeled overhead. They crossed a stream when they came to it. The shade the forest provided swept over them, welcome coolness and breeze that smelled like flowers.

Tell him, the trees whispered. Ronan ignored them. Tell him.

“Are they talking?” Adam asked, cocking his head curiously. “Why now?”

“To annoy me,” Ronan said crossly. He didn’t want to tell him anything. “Fuck off,” he said out loud. “I’m not doing it.”

“Doing what?” Adam asked blankly.

Ronan stopped dead. The trees were getting more insistent, and the very fact that they thought they could meddle in his life to this extent was pissing him off. Had been pissing him off. But also—this, Adam’s wise sweet eyes and the way he looked at Ronan, concern without rancor. That had once been only Gansey’s thing, but being half-forest had changed Adam forever.

It hadn’t changed some things.

“Telling you I love you.”

Adam walked away. Ronan stayed where he was, heart beating stupidly fast, but Adam was just looking for something to…to sit on. Okay. He waved Ronan over.

“Thanks for not telling me,” he said, when Ronan was close enough to hear him.

“Fuck you,” Ronan replied. “Is that all?”

“You.” Adam stopped, sighed, plucked a blade of grass from the ground. He was wearing shorts today and Ronan’s eyes snagged on a jagged old scar that started at his knee and pulled down and back. Was overcome by the sudden urge to press his mouth to it and then shook it off. The trees remained quiet, breathless, fucking meddling old cunts. “You haven’t said anything.”

Ronan sat down on the ground. Like this he was shorter than Adam, and had to tilt his head up slightly to maintain eye contact. “Do you want me to?”

“I wish,” Adam began, something ragingly ugly under his voice. “No, no I don’t.” He was looking down again, at the grass or at Ronan’s scruffy jeans, enough grief to cut right through to the other side. Ronan wanted to be the only person Adam looked at like that for; vulnerable and old and confused. He wanted—and then Adam said, “Can you say it again?” and sounded unsure,

“I love you,” Ronan said at once, unhesitating. “I love you.”

“Oh,” Adam whispered. He crawled over the grass, until he was right in front of Ronan. And Ronan did what he’d never let himself imagine—reached out, drew him closer. Until his head rested against Ronan’s neck and shoulder, his breaths jagged and uneven.

Ronan didn’t yet wonder if Adam would say it back. He didn’t care. He ran his fingers over the sharp dips of Adam’s back, spine, ribs. How hollow he was, and how wonderful.

“Ronan,” Adam said once, and was then quiet. Ronan bumped his cheek against the side of Adam’s head.

A bird screamed in the foliage. They sat like that for a long time.

#what is a SHIP NAME #carysfics #pynch #trc #raven cycle #pynch fic

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it rained spring all night by intimatopia

Lio Fotia is twenty-five and washed out when he moves to Promepolis. He thinks he's found all there is to his life.

Then his medicines stop working.

or: that fic where Lio hears the voices of the promare and is terribly alone all the way up until he isn’t. endgame mad burnish ot3, further warnings can be provided on request

#carys.txt #carysfics #lio fotia #promare #mad burnish ot3 #lio/gueira/meis #lio fotia/gueira/meis #promare fic #promare fanfiction

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since my last three ships were explicit soukoku, I'm putting them all in one post.

sweet-apple turning red

Dazai's a virgin. She asks Chuuya to change that.

There is more talking about it than either of them are prepared for.

or, that au where they're both girls but Dazai isn't, really, and Chuuya deals with it by having sex with her, and it somehow works out maybe kinda.

let's throw our bones away

Dazai gets out of jail. The third thing he does is find Chuuya.

Dazai finds Chuuya post-getting out of jail + they get high + they fuck. no plot only tender.

your body that can't love you

He hates himself. Chuuya hates him. Nothing else he can lay his hands on makes him feel so alive - death is familiar. He can't get his throat to swallow around whatever this is.

beast au + emotionally unsafe kink. Dazai's head is a mess and Chuuya deals with it by not dealing with it and everything hurts. written for a curiouscat prompt about bondage.

#carysfics #unsafe

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‘love inside the basement’ would be such a good title

#titles

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at least 40% of my brain is dedicated to thinking about Asrin and Varys, except this time it's specifically about how for years Asrin keeps insisting Varys is bad for him and hurting him and Varys will accept that that's what he's doing as long as it keeps Asrin happy.

#a tag for ocs

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wrote 4k today [26.02]!! it was great, I feel great

#writelogging