#holy fuck drawing myself is so hard

[chimerical-daydreams]

finally, some good fucking self portrait

(bonus form sketches:)

#otherkin #alterhuman #nonhuman #chimerakin #satyrkin #divinekin #my art #form #me #holy fuck drawing myself is so hard

[just-a-mod]

yeah

so

-clicks tongue-

I blame this post

#justaart #art #cotl #cult of the lamb #cultofthelamb #cotl the lamb #cotl lambert #cotl narinder #cotl the one who waits #i also blame bamsara and julian draws #their lamb babies were so cute and i had to make one for myself #the baby's name is Mira because they're a miracle #i tried really hard to think of what animal might be made if you mix a lamb with a cat and then just decided hey #it's a magic egg baby #it can just be a weird hybrid #four ears for a baby whose pupils can do whatever the hell they want #and fur that needs to be really hella maintained cause holy fuck #what kind of fu/fleece nightmare do we have here #they probably mat like a /mothr fucker/ #do they bleat? do they yowel? #who knows stay tuned #more at 6 #good luck grandpa Ratau yer gonna fuckin need it #this baby probably has two rows of teeth and eldrich powers #incredibles baby jack jack + ctuhlu #good fuckin luck old rat-dad

[zellkabellk]

Nowadays trying really fucking hard to teach to my brain that it's okay and better to "just do 10 min of this task" even if it means leaving it unfinished (but further along than before!) rather than not doing it "because when I do it I should do it all" Because jfc I can't keep leaving my house in states where I need to do 30+ minutes of dishes instead of just... doing a little everyday and at least it remains a manageable amount in the sink even if it's not always emptied...

#it's hard but i'm doing my best #im using housekeep chores as an example bc it's an easy one but really this is for everything in my life rn #better draw 10 minutes than none at all #better practise for my driving license 10 minutes than none at all #because I VERY rarely actually get the cross of energy AND motivation to do “a whole task” #rn my brain hates not doing a whole task but i'm sure with practise it'll become easier to feel rewarded for doing just a bit #at least future me thanks me every fucking time so yknow #i just have to practise enough so it doesn't feel like i'm forcing myself everytime #bc starting is always the hardest part #and even if i stop AT LEAST I DID 10 MINUTES OF THE THING SO IT'S NOT STAGNATING HOLY SHIT #i wish i was a functioning human :) #or at least a functioning artist that enjoyed drawing for 4 hours straight after work lmao #beary talk #beary ramble #beary life

[butchladymaria]

yknow sometimes i see an artist who’s maybe young or just new post their art online and honestly? i’m so incredibly happy for them?? like you are documenting your journey as an artist and i think that is an incredible thing to share

#some ppl online can be so obsessed with Numbers TM and like while they feel good sometimes i think the act of making and sharing it matters #it reminds me of like. language learning #you can study for a year and feel embarrassed because like. maybe you have a similar grasp on the language to a 5 yr old #but bestie. how long do u think it took the FIVE yr old #and its the same with art #i used to be so hard on myself bc i wasnt drawing at a level that people who did art for 20 years do #but like. i look back on old pictures that i cringed at when i was a kid and im like. holy shit!!!! i was starting to get a grasp on color!! #or shading or form or What Ever!!!!! #and having that physical legacy honestly means the world to me :) #approach art as a thing you learn like language #u are going to fuck up but u dont have to be writing eloquent poetry! u just need to be understood :) #n art is like that too #idk this post has been made probably #but basically: idc where youre at in your artistic journey but you are doing amazing

[smuttyaf]

The Business

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰; 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

wc: 4.9k

i made harry v manipulative, ik i need help, i’ll see my therapist this week

“Don’t worry it ain’t mine.”

He makes his way across the room dumping the pile of red and green bills into the sink, his forehead glistens with sweat sweeping over his face, curls sticking along his temples as blood stains cover the white button up.

“Oh my god,” You gasp, fingers dropping the Vogue magazine nearly tripping over your feet rushing towards him. You lean over the island with mouth agape looking at him switch on the facet and begin washing his hands, droplets of blood running down the sink.

“Harry, what happened?” He’s tugging off his ruined blazer, hands going to roll up his sleeves while looking at the money.

“It was fucking unbelievable baby, lemme tell you,” He fumes, pushing away from the sink to cross the room towards the bar.

Harry is ranting about what he’s covered in, hands grabbing the bottle of dark whiskey to pour a glass. The clashing of the cups have your gaze turning away and towards him. The navy tie you wrapped around his neck this morning is drench as he swallows the liquor, his hands shaking with adrenaline, pupils dilated, and breath drawing out heavy; the only thing you can do is rub his shoulders looking up at him with concern eyes.

“Look at this shirt! Look at it, it’s fuckin— ruined!” He takes a swing of his drink. “It happened so fast… Shelly took us to the money… and I’ll tell you something, Mickey he knows his shit, he does!” You back away from his raging tone, fingers wrapping together in front of you listening intently.

“So Shelly takes us to the money, right, it’s in this safe and we have him on his knees when he opens it,” He pauses drinking the rest of his whisky in one go before pouring himself another glass. “I’m looking at this guy thinking to myself holy fuck! How the fuck was he able to do this, steal two million right from under our nose when bang.” He slams the bottle of whisky down hard on the counter beginning to faintly laugh at what happens.

“Johnny caps him, he caps Shelly!” He’s shouting, body turning and stepping towards you with free hand making drastic gestures. “Blood goes flying everywhere! All over me! All over the money! I have no idea if this is even all of it.” Harry swallows back the alcohol while your watching him with heavy eyes crossing your arms over your chest, you can’t help but think to yourself how when even upset with neck going red and thundering voice, Harry still looks so handsome.

“And right then, I go through the roof and punch the dumb son’ of a bitch! I punch him Y/N, right in his dumb fucking face, I didn’t give a shit whose son he was! I just wanted to hit him again, smack some sense into the idiot,” Your eyes immediately look at his bruise knuckles covered in dried blood.

“I mean look at the shit that I gotta fucking deal with now!” He continues, walking off with drink in one hand and other pointing angrily at the money in the sink.

“What are you going to do with it?” You ask turning around, your heels click against the floor boards as Harry begins going through the cabinets.

“I told them to run it through the cycle ya’ know but no! Mickey calls up the old man and he has no other plans so he wants to pick up the money tomorrow night!” Your heart picks up with eyes going wide, Lorenzo coming over tomorrow! You follow over to Harry crouched under the sink. “Where’s the laundry detergent?”

“It’s in the linen cabinet.” You say, eyes floating back to the pile. The sound of him walking off to retrieve it sounds in your ears while you never take your gaze off what sits in front of you.

Two million, all in hundreds, just there. It was alarming that this is where you found yourself six months into your relationship with Harry. You knew from your friends at the gentlemen’s club that he was part of a certain ‘business’ but, once you saw him actually taking the relationship serious and begun confiding, you found out that he had serious connections, and it was clear then what your options were; stay at Jaspers or be a good little doll and spend the rest of your time by his side.

You’ve experienced crazy shit in the last six months together, but nothing like this. The rest of your night was spent cleaning money; soaking it in laundry detergent, hanging them as if they were on a clothing line, Harry would then press them out with an iron before running it through the money counter. That’s all you heard that afternoon, the sound of money. Eventually, six months turns into four years and what you experienced that night didn’t even shake what you’ve seen for the remainder of your relationship. It use to be easy; being able to block out the blood, the screaming, the fighting; you remember not even flinching when waiting in Harry’s Rolls at the shed of light from the assassination outside the car. It weighs on your mind heavy that you’ve grown accustomed to the violence that you’ve begun questioning when you lost your humanity?

You remember feeling scared to shoot a gun when he took you to the range, and now you didn’t even budge. So many things became so normalized to you that in the last four months you were having a realization about the life you once lived and how you became so desensitized. You remember when all you would do is relax: go to the spa, get facials, go shopping, weekly manicures and pedicures appointments until now, you don’t even remember what it’s like to have a night out with your girlfriends since you’re always by Harry’s side.

“Please! I’m sorry! Please!”

Lenny is screaming as the sound of his face smashing against the toilet thunders from inside the bathroom. Your heart is hammering in your chest, teeth biting down on the cherry stain flesh as you feel tears begin to swell your eyes.

“You want to fuck with him right, so now ya’ have to deal with us!” Johnny shouts over him with the sound of gargling being heard next. You immediately press the blend option on the margarita machine to drown out the screaming being heard through the door.

Moments like this make you wish you kept your little condo, how you would have used it for instances like this where Harry would bring someone over to interrogate. You loved the large windows and open living room, it was the perfect size for you. Remember having sleepovers with your friends or lounging in on a Sunday afternoon just in your oversized t-shirt and underwear. You missed your old life, the one that wasn’t filled with bloodshed.

The smell of Baccarat Rouge fills your nose with the feel of warm hands gathering your hair onto one shoulder before they’re trailing down your hips, lips pressing against the skin of your neck when he wraps himself around you. Sucking in a shaky breath, your fingers release the button causing the crushed ice to halt its movements.

“Harry, I’m leaving.” You state, eyes looking at the light green mixture as your fingers fall to the marble counter. You turn around in his hold with tears brimming your eyes, Harry looks at you with a frown on his face, the hands on your waist pull you deeper into him.

“What… why?” He questions, a smile soon shines. “I didn’t use the good towel.”

You roll your eyes pushing him away as you lace your arms together looking up at him upset. “I’m serious Harry. I can’t take this anymore,” You rush, brushing past him with beating heart as you begin making your way towards the stairs. The last couple of months you would tell him that this was becoming too much to bare; screaming men, blood stain clothes and white powder being the only thing you’ve seen for the last four years, you’re tired of it.

That makes him rush to grasp your hands in both of his, pulling you back into him with the sound of muffle crying ringing throughout the space causing you to break. Lonesome tears trail down your cheeks when he tugs you back into his chest, your swallowing quick breaths looking at the white door and the activities going on behind it.

“Why? Ah’ you see,” His hand tearing away from yours and going to wipe your tears. Just like always, the simple gesture has you remembering why you fell in love with him in the first place, not what’s partaking in the background. “Baby that’s what I love about you, you’re so sensitive.” Harry spreads his fingers along your heated cheeks to reach and cup your jaw in his hand. He’s holding you there just like when he rocks into your throat beautifully, he knows what he’s doing, knows that the thoughts that are flowing in his mind is also flowing in yours.

“But I like you here…” He says, stepping in with his lips brushing against yours. “I want you to stay.” His lips sink to touch, your eyes slipping shut as the delicious taste of him seeps in your mouth. The hands once tangled with his run against the material of his chest. Honey bourbon gracing itself on your tongue as he twists himself around you, only making you hum pleasantly before pulling away from him.

“You know… this is hard on me too,” He mutters stepping forward to rock you back and fourth, running kisses down the curve your neck as his hands leave their place and grip your backside. Harry knew what to do just to have you right where he wants, have you drunk off just the small taste of him.

“I’ll tell Johnny to shut him up okay? Is that okay baby?” He whispers in your ear. You swallow hesitantly while nodding your head. Harry reaches into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet he takes out his credit card and waves it in front of your face, small smile on his lips while you have a straight one. “Even better get out of the house and go shopping.” He doesn’t even wait for you to react, he shoves it in your palm before leaning in and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

Pulling away from you his body turns to open the drawers few rows down, he’s grabbing a pair of clippers that make you look away from the metal and back to the melting ice. His footsteps echo against the wooden flooring as he opens the door to the bathroom, the cries are much louder with the shuffle of moving feet.

“Shut this guy up would ya’ Johnny.”

This was the routine lately, say you’re leaving and him winning you back with sweet words and his touch. Telling you to go shopping or on vacation if it was weighing down on your mind that much, this was how it always was now. Chauffeur, champagne, and spending your time in Saint Laurent just thinking about how you got here. If this dream life of being apart of the mafia was what you expected or what your friends gushed about.

You spent your whole evening stepping into each store and buying whatever looks good on you without checking the tag. It’s funny that was what you did now, you use to penny pinch and save your last by the time it was payday till you reached Jaspers. Now, you only shop at name brand stores and dine at restaurants you never thought you would be seated in. The reality of your dreams came true but to what expense? You didn’t have anyone to do it with but Harry. Friends beginning to feel scared around you, security becoming suspicious among normal civilians which leads you to the point where you’re here right now, drinking champagne by yourself in Vivienne Westwood.

By the time you made it home Harry was sitting on the couch, slouched over on his knees with the highlights of the baseball game this afternoon playing. His head snaps towards the elevator, smile on his face as you step through, the chauffeur politely placing your bags on the table next to the entrance before smiling to leave.

“Did you buy the whole store?” He chirps, lips widening as you make your way towards the sofa and place the rest of your shopping on the coffee table. You fit yourself next to him, your arm lying against the cushion while your elbow props up your head.

Harry turns towards you his eyes roaming amongst your face till they fall on the long sleeve black dress you ventured out in, his stare drinking you in as he looks at your lips longingly. You let him admire you through, remembering when he first saw you at Jaspers and he would look at you like this, trying to control himself from pining you down and having his way. As he cherishes your beauty you can’t help but do the same. His hair dishevelled with gel as loose curls fall across his forehead, there are buttons undone exposing his chest tattoos with his flesh red and cheeks glowing from the alcohol in his system, even in this state he looks so dazzling. Licking your bottom lip it breaks his trance, he reaches over and lights a cigarette as he leans back into the couch.

“I wish you would stop smoking those,” You say, hand going to the curls by his neck.

“I wish you would stop telling me you’re leaving.” Turning to look at you with liquor on his breath and eyes glossy, he draws in his cigarette. Biting down on the inside of your cheek, you break the gaze and let them lead to the white and orange bags in front of you, fingers dropping from his neck you card them through your hair and shake your head.

“I don’t know when I became so use to it H. I —I feel like I’m not me anymore?” You confide, tone small while he nods his head, still looking at you when he’s inhaling as his free hand begins running up your thigh.

“I understand baby, you know I understand.” He coos, the smell of whiskey fills your nose as he moves in deeper. His addicting aura swaying you with the way his presence is so magnetic; he wasn’t even touching you intimately, yet already you were under his control.

“It’s hard sometimes but that’s why I do this job, right… and that’s why you,” He’s tearing the hand away from his lips and letting his thumb run against your cheek, your eyes move away from the bags and lock with his green ones. “You sit and look pretty, yeah?” He says nodding his head. You push your lips together, gaze dropping to the cross hanging on his chest.

“Is that all I am to you now?” You question. “Just a pretty face?”

His thumb doesn’t stop its movements and his gaze doesn’t wavier when he shakes his head either. He was so intimidating with his tactile actions and slow movements. It didn’t help that he was handsome too, because even when you’re questioning your place in Harry’s life your panties are dripping with the way he’s looking at you.

“You already know that but, you also know that I love you for reasons more than your beauty.” Voice deep and dripping in honey as he searches your eyes; like when he had you to himself for the first time, staring at you as if he could see right through, as if he knew every thought brewing. He’s taking the cigarette back between his lips to suck on the batch before throwing it into the ashtray.

“I know I haven’t been around here lately, know I’ve been out dealing with everything but I need you here, keep my bed nice and warm, right?” Nodding your head, you lean off your arm and take Harry’s hands into yours. Feeling over every prominent vein and bone, running the pads of your fingertips over his knuckles as his lips press into the side of your neck, cologne and smoke immediately overwhelming you.

“You love me?” You ask, his fingers intertwining with yours as he begins trailing his kisses to your cheeks.

“I love you like the moon loves the stars.” He breathes against your skin, his words sloppy and low that it has you moaning softly.

His lips slip onto yours, tongue delving into your mouth and wasting no time to lick into every part. Salvia dripping from his tongue and into every crevice as his hand spreads over your thighs, shoving your body deeper into the couch as he drinks you in. Muscles moving against each other, breathless whimpers escaping the space, your fingers trail to his broad shoulders as he presses against you.

You know he’s drunk, that’s all you taste on his tongue aside from the cigarette. He was rocking his hips into your heat steadily as your almond nails run up the hairs of his neck, your lips tearing away when you look at him. Olive pupils with bruise lips, the smell of him was everywhere, you couldn’t leave him even if you tried he was so addicting like the nicotine in the air.

“Hm, you’re gonna stay here with me,” Harry says, leaning back on his knees to unbutton the rest of his long sleeve as you open your legs up in front of him. “Keep the fire nice and warm.” He hush, his fingers sliding to your thighs and slipping under the material to feel against your skin.

You suck in a breath, watching him slowly as he hovers over you between your legs, one hand rubbing you over the lace of your panties and the other rubbing the skin of your neck. You love when he submits his dominance over you, how he’s staring at you daringly and never breaking eye contact as he touches the most pleasurable part.

“Harry,” You breathe, eyes fluttering when he slips his finger under the lace and begins to run the the pads of his fingers in heavy circles.

He hums at the expression crossing your face, watching the way your chest heaves up and down and hips twitch for sped up movements. Tongue escaping his mouth and running over his bottom lip, your eyes catch on the thickness bulging against his zipper. Your hand immediately going out and feeling over him. He was hard like when you danced for him the first time, your hips swivelling against his in slow movements as you rode him through his clothes. You felt how desperate he was begging to be freed and find himself buried in your walls, however that night he didn’t get access to what he has now. Only making the groan in his throat more drawn out as the pressure on your neck increases.

“Be my good girl, yeah?” He breathes, hips rocking in your moving palm as he slips his finger into you. Moans trail out as your gaze turns away from the black trousers and to pearly white teeth tucking his bottom lip away.

Nodding your head lightly you let your hands begin to undo the buckle of his belt, pulling down the metal zipper and retrieving the thickness that you want buried between your legs. Mouth watering at the sight, your tongue slithers out of your mouth to run against the skin of his head. Lapping around the girth till your running down the length, tastebuds coating him in spit as he stands angry and red before you.

You’re so caught up in the beauty of Harry, that the pleasure he sends your way is one of shock, his finger leaving your folds to skim against your clit to delve back in you again. Motions starting slow to soon pick up in pace as the palm of his hand rubs against your bundle of nerves, his middle finger sending arousal down your thighs. Moans of pleasure leave your lips when you look at him, one hand jerking off his cock while the other plays with the globes between his legs, you let your lips envelope him; plump and glossy expanding over every vein along his shaft.

He continues to let his finger slip in you so teasingly as you moan around him, gaze caught between his happy trail and into his green eyes, how they are focus on your lips wrapped around him that leave lipstick streaks in their wake. You’re tipsy off just the feel of him, his hand holding your neck as he rocks into your mouth happily, groans leaving him as he fits himself nicely in your throat.

Another digit joins his movements, walls dripping in your juices as they welcome the extra fit. A long muffle cry escapes you as he spreads your walls blissfully, your mouth stretching with each thrust of Harry sinking down while he has you completely spread open in the living room. His fingers curling deeply in your pussy as your chest heaves with every breath before he’s sliding back down your throat.

Skin begins to glisten with sweat, hands going sticky with spit as you stoke him, eyes fighting to look up at him and the tattoos peaking from his button up. You let your hips swivel against his palm, rubbing your clit deeper into his touch as he slides in, it causes your mouth to slip Harry’s cock out with a pleasurable moan with the way he’s driving his fingers into your heat.

He’s been watching you wither underneath him since he had you in this position, looking at you come undone with only two fingers. He loves the expression on your face; brows pinch together as your small hands glide up his shaft, pink roaming amongst your cheeks to your breast begging to be freed from their confines. Harry lets you get off in his hands, he likes the way you rub yourself in his palm, he likes the way your arousal is coating him, he likes how you’re so needy for him.

Mouth electing another moan at the feeling of him sinking deeper he catches your gaze, Harry gliding his thumb over your bottom lip, their smudge red from you running them all over his member as your fingers lazily stroke him, he’s following your motions with your hips only causing your head to lean back with pleasure.

“Fuck Harry,” You cry, hips runting deeper into him when he leans down letting his lips connect with yours. The delicious taste of him spreading over you as he licks his way into your mouth feels like heaven. Adrenaline courses through your body as you twirl your tongues against each other completely lost in the way he’s making you feel and running through your veins. He smells so good, taste so exquisite, why did you ever think you could just leave. The way he makes you feel is why you stay through all the fucked up things so, why even put up a fuss when you knew where you would be once the sunsets.

“Come here love,” Harry says, pulling his embrace away from you and making you stand up. You pull your dress over your head, letting your fingers teasingly remove your undergarments as you know Harry is watching as he tugs at himself.

He lets you lie with your back against his chest, head on his arm as he takes himself into his hands and begins to run his dick over your folds. Pleasant sigh leaving when you’re lifting your thigh up to angle with Harry’s hips just in the right moment to were he slips into your pussy. The thickness of him stretching you out has you moaning loudly with your head falling deeper into his touch.

Harry sinking into you for the first time will always surprise you, the way he fills you up so thick and heavy, drawing down your walls lazily till he reaches your cervix before sliding out and pushing back in. He was always so gentle before he felt you loosen up around him, feeling the way you drip down his length and quiver with each draw of his hips.

There was a mixture of moans, whimpers, cries and groans shared between you both and floating around the heated atmosphere. His free hand holding your thigh up as he picks up his paste graciously. He’s lunging into you, chest clinging to his button up that is soaked with sweat as he leans in and presses kisses into your damp skin. The hairs by the end of your neck cling to you as your body moves with every thrust.

“Who’s gonna make you feel like this?” Harry taunts, his cock driving down your walls angrily as he fucks you. You can’t help the whimper that travels out from his words with the way he’s burying you into the couch.

“Huh? Who’s gonna fuck you like this if you leave?” Voice in your ear so deep and sexy that it makes you take your hand away from the grey leather and run them through his curls, head turning as your mouth hangs slightly open as your body rakes with complete ecstasy.

“Mhm… look at your pretty face,” Harry says, dropping your thigh and wrapping his hand around your throat, only making you sigh out in pleasure as you feel rushed kisses and the sound his hips meeting your backside overcoming the interviewers on tv.

“No one can fuck you like this, right?” He’s huffing in your ear, grip tightening around your throat as your eyes flutter open, the burning sensation of your clit throbbing in pleasure tingling down your thighs. Shaking your head in between movements your fingers trail themselves out of his curls and to the hand on your neck, feeling over his touch as he pounds down your walls. His movements so deep and fast that you can’t even speak anymore, not even cry out in pleasure.

“That’s right, no one can fuck you like me, huh.” He continues, his teeth biting down softly on your cartilage as the vibrating feeling of your orgasm cashes down on you.

God, you hate that he was so proud with the way he can have you coming undone and knowing just how. The way he rams into your heat with such aggression that it has your eyes rolling back and nails digging into the skin of his hand, the grip he’s holding on your throat only making your motions escalate to your hips quivering away from Harry’s at the exploding feeling drumming in your core.

Chest heaves up and down as your lower half twitches against him, eyes fluttering up at the chandelier high in the ceiling to the oak spiral staircase, your mind in a complete haze as you shudder against Harry, his shaft still pumping away inside you as you try to collect yourself from the riveting feelings coursing through you.

“Look so sexy all over me,” He husks, your creaminess sliding down his cock as he releases the hold on your throat. His hand slips to your stomach burning in arousal as holds you there, his hips not letting up as he continues to fuck you into the sofa.

“Oh god Harry please,” You cry, eyes opening and following his movements as you let your hands trace over his and backside meet his movements. “Come in my pussy, please.” You whimper, his teeth tearing away from your ear and lips sticking to your temple as he hums to your words.

“That’s right baby. Only I can come in your pussy cause you’re all mine, right?” He utters, fingers dragging over the skin of your stomach as you nod your head softly.

“Yes all yours.” You sigh, teeth biting down on your lip as the feeling of him stretching you out has you lightheaded.

“Fuck you look so good like this,” Harry breathes into your warm skin, his hand wiping the strands of hair off your lips. He looks at the way your throat bobs with each lazy swallow, listens to the tiny whine you make when his balls press right against your folds, feels the way he slides into you effortlessly from the juices flowing out that he can’t help the long groan that escapes him when he feels his seed spill into your walls.

Your arousal mixing with his runs down your sweaty thighs while heavy breaths escape you, your version lies tirelessly on the packages in front of you while Harry’s hand goes to play with the hairs framing your face when you move around in his hold.

It’s quiet for a few minutes, the television playing as he tangles his fingers through your locks and lets the other drape down the expanse of your stomach. The sound of his heart slows as does yours in the space between you both. Lungs finding balance with feet tangling together, the sound of Harry sighing behind you makes you turn your attention to him.

“I know you want to leave but just stay. Just for a little longer.”

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #smuttyaf #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #hs #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles fandom #harry styles fic rec #mafia au #mafia harry styles #harry styles mafia #mafia!harry

[mechaknight-98]

Aftermath (NSFW) FT Sejeong

Authors note: had to do a bit of world building as I try to figure out what the world looks like now that I don't want to use Karina or Jiyho anymore due to the dating thing…it would be weird ya know.

"Hey, Danger can I ask you something," Seji asks me with a clear and concerned tone,

"Yeah, sure," I answer hesitantly. Sejeong smiles brightly.

"Why did you run away from me," She asks. I bite the inside of my cheek as I consider my response.

"I figured it would be better than dealing with any of the repercussions of my feelings. I have a limited time left to live and I didn't want to put anyone through the sorry of losing someone they care about. So I figured dipping before that would be a cleaner cut-off than this going too deep instead," I reply

"You coward," Sejeong teases.

"I...yeah you're right. I should have let you choose," I reply

"At least you're a reasonable coward," Seji teases further

I squint at her causing her to smile wide, "I am not a coward, nor am I reasonable," I reply. Seji beams

"Oh really and why don't you think so," Sejeon asks sternly.

"You'll see soon enough," I replied.

Three weeks later Sejeong bought my little photo studio and shop. she was okay with not paying rent as long as I became her "personal photographer", and so I went with her all on these trips and events to snap pictures of the beautiful girl, but honestly she used it as an excuse to relentlessly fuck. I would spend hours cutting angles and working on shop composition to make sure the photos were perfect, and looking at her face always led to a visceral response. I'd be hard for hours, and like clockwork, she'd come into my office give me a warm-up blowjob then have it lead right into mindblowing sex.

As I worked on photos there was a knock on the door. I assume it's Sejeong as she's the only one who comes in here typically. The door opens to a tall dark-skinned man he smiles at me with malicious intent.

“Well, I didn't think I'd ever see you again,” he says as aggression rises in his tone.

“What do you want Alistair,” I ask

“Oh remember call me AL or Tahm,” Alistair replies

“Oh well you know I'm just checking in on my favorite curse bearer. I truly thought you'd come hunting for me, but you never did. I wanted to know why, but you were hard to find. When you said I want to disappear I guess you meant it,” Alistair adds.

“Are you here to kill me, because if so I'm not going down without a fight,” I reply

“What heavens no! I'm here to give you something you want more. Freedom,” Alistair replies.

“What is the catch,” I ask.

“No catch at least this time. I can't beat the curse bearer chasing me as he is using holy relics, but you have a myriad of experience so I figured I'd make a deal,” Alistair answered.

I look at the photo on my desk of Sejeong and I, “Fine I’ll draw up the contract.” I reply

30 minutes later I procured a draft of the deal between Alistair and me. He's excited as deals are like his favorite thing to make something about the ability to bind and

Making rules that can't be broken makes him feel safe. After we sign he smiles and hands me my Maxos Cards. I look at him surprised

“Why,” I asked

“I am asking you to hunt someone using holy weapons and not give you your best tools against holy weapons. I'd be a fool, besides I have to give them back to you anyway.” Alistair replies nonchalantly. I nod and grab them.

“So where was the last reported location of this curse bearer,” I ask

"So there I was, in Minnesota of all places, following leads to my ex, Janie. The trail led me to a scene that raised my concerns: golden ichor staining the ground. I knew this was about to get more complicated. As I concealed myself, the door creaked open, accompanied by ominous sounds of groans and a knife piercing the wall.

"Step out from your hiding spot," a familiar voice demanded. I cautiously emerged, armed with my card and sword, only to face Janie.

"Dangerfield? Of course, he'd send you," Janie muttered with evident annoyance.

"What brings you here?" she interrogated, her accusatory tone emphasizing the revelation that my ex was now a full-blown witch, a fact I was still processing.

"I'm here for the holy weapon, nothing more," I asserted, my mind grappling with the revelation of Janie's newfound identity.

"And what were you promised in return?" Janie probed further.

"Freedom," I replied succinctly.

"Freedom? From whom?" Janie's disbelief was palpable.

"Alastair," I confessed, bracing myself for her reaction.

"Alastair? Did you strike a deal with him? You're unbelievable," Janie's frustration simmered.

"He promised Morrigan would leave me alone," I explained, hoping to justify my actions.

"You never think, do you? Your recklessness causes chaos for everyone," Janie scolded, her frustration evident.

"I'm only here for the weapon. Give it to me, and I'll leave," I urged, attempting to end the confrontation.

Janie's gaze hardened as she considered my request. "What if I refuse?" she challenged, prompting me to reveal my trump card - my maxos card.

Her eyes widened at the sight. "You wouldn't dare," she uttered, realizing the seriousness of my intent.

Taking a defensive stance I watched as Janie's eyes widened

With a mixture of resignation and menace, Janie relented, handing over the holy weapon. "You'll regret this, selling out a friend for your gain," she admonished.

"If I were truly betraying you, I'd have handed you over to Alastair," I retorted, stowing away the cards.

"This is why I despise dealing with your kind," Janie spat bitterly.

"Careful now, insults might provoke me to take action," I teased, though the underlying tension remained palpable.

"Pathetic," Janie scoffed, as I left her house, her warning lingering in the air.

Returning to Alastair, I handed him the weapon, cautioning him against its use.

"Why not?" he inquired, intrigued by my warning.

"It's not just holy; it's a fusion of divine and demonic energies, a result of a battle between a demon and an angel," I explained,

"so why is the blade okay with you," Alastair asked

"Because I am Fomori," I answered.

"Oh...Interesting," Alastair said. Alastair's grin widened at the revelation. "Morrigan's favored, no wonder you sought to disappear quietly," he mused, anticipating the chaos to come as he reveled in it.

"I look forward to seeing the next part of your tale," Alastair replies. "Our deal is done," He says calmly as he conjures two contracts that burn themselves up before me. I feel the burden of my curse lift and Alastair smiles.

"I look forward to the damage you will cause. That will be more interesting than anything I could ever do with such a weapon. I see it has bound itself to your soul so using it would only garner your strength." Alastair adds. I shrug at his point to which he smiles.

The next day I arrived at my office to see a pouting Sejeong

"Hey, Seji. are you ok..." Before I could finish she had me cornered in a kiss.

"I got your not but I was worried sick for you," She replied. As she she ran her arms through my body she gasped,

"You're curse-free," she exclaimed with surprise.

"Yeah," I nodded.

#kpop fanfic #sejeong smut #kim sejeong #sejeong

[oysterdelite]

introduction !!

MINORS DNI

Hello everyone! I’m making this blog cause oh man what is a 20 year old with a weird interest in breeding other t-boys to do but get on tumblr and find a community lol

Anyway hi I’m Oyster (or delite or del or my real name which I’m only willing to share if we become buds!) I’m a Service/Soft Dom & Stone Top, I’m pre-T, transmasc, and use He/They pronouns (He preferred!)

I like puppy boys and kitty boys and enjoy being called Sir most! I will be posting probably mostly about pounding my boyfriend most because I’m deranged.

(Yes I chose this blog name because something something eating clam lol)

I’m autistic, chunky, and Latino so plz no ableism, fatphobia, or racism, you will be blocked!

Anons: Currently Accepting Anons!

DMs: CLOSED!

Star ⭐️, A, Anon <3, Top Anon, 🦊, 🧸, 🎾🐾, 🦈, 💤, Holy 🪽 (he/him), 🪷, ❇️, 💙, 🦇🐾 , 🎲, 🏵️, 🐑, 🍓🐶, 🌿, 🕯️, 🐕🎀, 💜🖋️, 🦴, ��, 🌟, L, 🥕, 🪱, 🍑, 🐈‍⬛🖤, 🦷, 🥀🐾, 🍪, 🕸️, 🍬, 🏴‍☠️🧬, 🌹✨

Tags!:

#oyster answers for answer asks, #oyster’s anons for answering anon asks #oyster delite and #oysterdelite for general tag, #oyster blazes for when I’m faded and talking out my ass, #oyster blogs and #nerdy oyster for my interests and general blogging, and #oyster says something serious for serious talk!

I’m 5 feet tall which I think is always very funny to people who can’t comprehend a short autistic trans guy who only tops lol

More below the cut about kinks, limits, dni, and more info about me!

My posts are not consent to send me unsolicited photos- please ask FIRST!

Given that this is my page, I am allowed at any time to stop interacting with you for any reason. If I am uncomfortable or just not in the mood to talk- I may not answer. Please do not take offense to this. I am still a regular human behind the screen.

I am fine being friends with y’all but I do have a partner so any “flirting” is pretty much platonic and does not mean we are dating, talking stage, a “situationship,” etc. If you would like to get to know me more please feel free to reach out but just because you jack off to my text posts does NOT mean you deserve to have access to any personal or private information about me and is not consent to pressure me into sharing more than I’m comfortable with.

Kinks!

(Highlighted are my faves!)

Breeding

Drool

Monster Fucking

Knotting

Semi-Public sex

Begging

Hair pulling

Praise

Light cnc/Dubcon (agreed upon before hand and given signals when it’s ok)

Edging

Pet play

Somno

Intox

Voyeurism

Overstimulation

Teasing

& more I can’t remember rn

Limits

Feel free to keep interacting with my blog if you enjoy these, they’re just not for me!

Any body fluids other than cum or spit (blood, pee, fecal matter, vomit, etc)

Impact play

Bondage (really depends on the situation! Intense bondage is a little too much for where I am now!)

Forced masc

Proper rape play (light cnc is fun but I will not enact scenes involving grabbing someone off a street or forcing myself on them if they’re thrashing about or fighting back)

Daddy kink (I prefer Sir! This may change from day to day depending on how I’m feeling but in general I usually won’t respond to that)

Hard Limits

PLEASE DO NOT REBLOG OR COMMENT ON MY CONTENT IF YOU ENGAGE WITH THESE TOPICS

Race play

Ageplay

Ddlg or anything similar

Beastiality

Necroplay

Detrans

Anything weight related (feeder/feedee etc)

Incest or fauxcest

DNI!

Racists, Transphobes, Ableists, Fatphobes, Conservatives, Zionists (Free Palestine!), etc

Anyone under 18!!

MAPS, pedos, Zoos, etc

Men DNI blogs (I am a man! Please for your sake, don’t interact with my stuff!)

Anyone who thinks they can “fix” my stone top identity. No I don’t bottom, no I don’t like receiving please don’t try to change that I will block you!

Get to know me better!

I have an elderly dog and I work as a math tutor for my college. I’m currently studying graphic design but I was previously a biology major. I like to draw in my spare time, I’m a huge fan of post punk and new wave music. Every time I go to karaoke, Creep by Radiohead is the first song I choose (yes I’m cringe). I love D&D and nerdy shit and spend most of my time at my local game club! I’m autistic, adhd, and probably have POTS and hypermobility so some days or weeks are harder on my body than others! My favorite color is pink and I love spy movies and comedy sitcoms about terrible people.

I have a real life outside of tumblr, please do not be offended if it takes me a little while to get back to you!

I think that’s about it! Come have fun with me! Feel free to send in asks to me anytime, but I am getting busy so I ask that you be patient!

Love,

OysterDelite

#mlm nsft #t4t #gay #t4t mlm #t4t nsft #ftm nsft #ftm sub #ftm ns/fw #ftm bottom #ftm puppy #trans ftm #transmasc #breeding k1nk #submisive and breedable #FTM dom

[professionalchaoticdumbass]

in the past week or so ive seen a lot of people posting about how there's this oversexualization of trans girls on the site, and I gotta agree, there are way too many people (including other trans women!) who act like we're all dtf 24/7 or always super kinky and horny. I've been tired of that stereotype for ages and i am saying this as a rather sexual trans girl myself...

...but I think people are overcorrecting a bit now, and are starting to veer into "trans women shouldnt be talked about sexually / need to be shielded from it" territory. and, to me, that's really dangerous, because outside of some queer spaces - and even within them- the sexuality of trans girls is heavily scrutinized, as is attraction to us. as much as I dislike certain aspects of the memes and jokes that kickstarted the stereotypes, I'm kinda grateful for them as well. girldick jokes helped with my bottom dysphoria, voice kink shit helped me like my voice, and the whole "tgirl tummy tuesday" thing gave me a lot of confidence in my body where I hated it before. I think this open appreciation of trans sexiness has done a lot for both me and others on tumblr.

again, obviously its got its problems - people end up assuming every trans girl is horny, or only spread positivity if its related to sex with us, and of course the people who do have dysphoria from the things that are being sexualized are left out (like those the "girls without dicks are like angels without wings" memes, ugh, feels icky every time). and on the note of comparing tgirls to angels, we also started getting treated like we're ethereal fertility goddesses and that t4t sex was some inherently sacred ritual. spoiler alert, trans girls are normal-ass people and t4t sex can be holy for the participants but its generally a pretty normal thing to do as well

coming back to the "don't sexualize trans girls" posts now, I think they were initially going in the right direction, but at this point I'm starting to raise an eyebrow at more than a few of them. I'm not gonna whip out the "youre a sex hating puritan if you post about it" accusation because that is obviously wrong but again, I think people are definitely overcorrecting and starting to turn this into a (false) dichotomy when it's not. its a complex topic and each individual trans woman will feel differently about it.

(I feel like the internet just erases any nuance in favor of a two-sided, highly polarized flamewar with unrealistic views on both sides. actually i wouldn't even say this is a super-nuanced discussion because its really not that hard to say "fetishization is bad, but so is suppression of sexuality". will this post just end up being a void scream and people will continue drawing lines between one side and the other? probably. but I am a stubborn bitch and I have hope that we can be reasonable.)

anyways I'll close this off by saying that I wrote this between around 1:30 and 2 AM on terrible sleep the night before, that I hope what I said is coherent enough, and that I will keep being a trans girl who is openly sexual, gets horny over other trans women, and is proud to be transsexy as fuck. I will keep being critical of jokes and trends and memes that stereotype us, even from our own community. I will keep being angry at how poorly us trans folks are treated with regards to our sex lives, bodies, and relationships between the two. I will keep loving and lusting over trans women without fetishizing them. And I will keep doing all of these til the day I die.

#taking a break from the late night funnies to get serious for a change #this is... sorta a vent post? idk. #please dont tag this with 'transmisogyny' i do not like that term #feel free to reblog though. if enough people are shitheads ill turn reblogs off but again i have hope we can be nice. #transmasculine folks please feel free to add anything else you feel is relevant! im writing from the perspective of a transfemme #who mostly spends time in transfem spaces and i obviously dont have the experiences of a transmasc so. yknow. add on if you have something #alright thats all for now back to your regularly scheduled sleepy/funny posting

[yazthebansheek]

day 6.draw one of the Crp clowns/jesters! + Headcanons! (Candy Pop)

He is 7’2

Loves eating candy.

Will have psychotic sugar rushes sometimes and then pass tf out.

Yk he has that man spread ass sit bro💀💀

Honestly really childish 

Long ass tongue…

Ayo what can that tongue do 🤨😏

Def likes Jason in that way.

Bisexual…AND BIPOLAR!!!!

ADHD. 

Likes to annoy, scare, and piss people off for fun.

Careless, reckless, ruthless and sadistic. 

Masochist?

Prankster + jokester 

Kind of narcissistic / over confident.

Kinda hard to offend/anger.

Doesn’t like people seeing him in his night terror form.

100% horny 80% of the time.

He doesn’t really care about gender. If he can fuck he will fuck.

Whore. absolute fucking slut. Cock slut. Loves pussy. Loves cock. Sluttiest thot in this motherfucking bitch. Cunty thotty slutty whore.💀💀💀💀💀 (I can’t take myself seriously bro)

Doesn’t wear make-up. That’s legit js his face.

Sharp ahh teeth like boy-

Waaaaayyyyy too over protective of his sister, Candy Cane.

One of the best bff’s you could ever have, Nathan is Lucky.

Ofc his bestie is Nathan, it’s literally Canon!!!!<3

Kinda gets jealous easily? Mostly when he doesn’t get attention or gets attention absolutely stolen from him.

Loves to be the center of attention 

He uses black magic, dark magic, demonic magic, voodoo, witchcraft, whatever cursed/dark magic you can think of, he does it or has done it.

List of things he loves: #3. Jason. #2. His sister. #1. His hair!!!!

He loves his hair more than anything, a bitch even think about touching his hair he will backhand them so motherfucking hard they forget how to speak.

He doesn’t really like judge angels. Why? Because most things related to a fucking angel, he hates. He has never really met her though so….He just always judges a book by its cover honestly. 

Him and LJ fight a lot, but they can get along together sometimes.

His father figure? Oh hell yeah, y’all know it’s Papa Grande. Fuck slenderman, ain’t nobody like that old bitch.

Upside down crosses everywhere. <3

He likes bright colors.

Jason will have this man in a corset sometimes like holy shit???!

He’s a mini fashionista and also Jason’s model/inspiration sometimes.

Coming in contact (touch) with some holy objects or angels will cause him 3rd degree burns😘🩷  and he just doesn’t really like holy water, but it won’t burn him.

Bibles and some holy shit makes him weaker, but in a more painful way. Which usually makes this man screech in pain<3333 I’m such a sadist 🥰😇

He doesn’t like angels or people in most religions 

He likes to play dress up/other games with sally, sometimes LJ and Jason will join too! 

Whenever playing Alice in wonderland with Sally, he’s the Cheshire Cat.

He’s a top obvi!!!

he can enter and exit through mirrors as he pleases. 

He can teleport

He/They/it

Likes to hang around the pasta kids because they lure in unsuspecting worried adults (aka free prey for Candy ;))

Candy, Pop, Poppy, Night, Poppyseed, C.pop, whore, Hatsune Miku, Raspberry fairy demon, Hatsune Miku demon jester, fairy princess jester demon, Slut, bestie, clown, raspberry, creepy blue clown bitch, night terror, night terrors, cluster demon, the collector, emperor of the dark, dark emperor, the dark omen, demon from the abyss, abyss demon.

He can steal other people’s powers, supernatural strength and speed, he can jump high, adapt to his environment quickly, really good sharp senses, enhanced visuality, and can phase through walls (ghosting)

Manipulation, teleportation, dark architect, power gifting, mind control, mastermind, nightmare manipulation, shapeshifting, magic (mentioned b4), levitation, invisibility, soul absorption

#yaz april challenge #creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #art #creepypasta art #artwork #digital art #candy pop #creepypasta au #creepypasta fanart #creepy pasta #ask creepypasta #creepypasta ask blog #candy pop crp #candy pop x jason the toymaker #CandyPop #candy pop art #candy pop creepypasta #creepypasta characters #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta hcs #night terrors #creepypasta drawing #OmniElle #possessed hatsune miku candy pop

[senei]

rambling a little but uhhh something i love a lot about slay the princess(besides like literally everything else about it since i'm kind of latched onto it) is how the artwork is loose.

tldr it's a good way of showing that the 'cleanliness' of art isn't necessary, and you really shouldn't worry your head off about that kind of stuff. but the Entire word vomit is underneath

it's sooo sososo common seeing people make huge deals about their art being 'clean'.

the lineart needs to be nice and sharp, the rendering needs to be perfectly butter smooth, et cetera.. especially with the ai stuff going on, for some reason? it kind of varies from different communities/platforms, but it's always there in some form. hard to miss most of the time

i see so many people getting pressed over that kind of involuntary obligation they put on themself—and not to say i don't do that exact same thing at times myself!!! it really upsets me knowing the kind of toll it can take on motivation to actually just. draw whatever the fuck is bouncing in your head like an rpg slime idle.

ik the fact that the sprites weren't entirely polished wasn't on purpose. that it's just because of the sheer amount of them/the lack of emotional masochism needed to do the Entire Process on Each One as a Single Person. but it still means a lot to me.

it shows how the same exact idea can be communicated completely disregarding whether or not those kinds of little details aren't ironed flat.

in like 99% of people who look at something, they just go "ooouuh!....art coole👍 !!!!!!!!". they're not gonna give two shits on wings about stray lines or an underblended shadow or whatever.

or at least that's what i'd like to think. as an artist with ungodly chicken scratch not yet conceivable to man i haven't been told anything.

just do however much you wanna do it's silly little artworks not your holy purpose to which inaction holds eternal suffering as consequence or something

#not sure how to put it. i just. wanted to put it. somehow. #slay the princess #mutterings of i

[leesmustardgarden]

Meet-cute Through a Window (Though it Shouldn’t be Possible)

Warnings: mentions of canon typical violence, mentions of plague, a bit of swearing (couldn’t help myself, really), good ol puppet fear, I love P so much he’s so everything to me

P x (gn) reader

In the ruins of an ever rotting city, love is the last thing you’d expect to find. Rubble cannot foster the gentleness love necessitates, nor can it pretend to. In the ticking heart of a special puppet, filled with oil and ergo ever pulsing, love finds a way to fester. Pinocchio proves to be an exception to many things, and in loving you he has become an exception to the very notion that love cannot find purchase on the ledge of a burning society.

You meet through a window tucked away in the far corners of Krat, one you’d thought to be hidden from the puppet frenzy. It had been your honest mistake; a moment of forgetfulness wherein you peaked through the curtains and found yourself under his curious blue eyes. Crystalline and shining, they shocked you frozen to the spot. Any initial noise you might have let out dies with a weak flutter in your throat and you beg internally for this person to be a person and not a puppet.

A small whirr fills the air in the next second and your heart drops into your stomach. His expression is unchanging even in the face of your panic, but his shoulders sag (—holy shit is that a sword on his back?) in something like surrender and he tilts his head.

If you didn’t know any better, he might have just looked like a curious, yet apathetic boy peering at you through your window. With the sword on his back and the gentle whirr that rings in the silence, it’s hard not to know better. Never mind whatever the fuck is on his metal arm, you’re just ignoring that for the time being or you’re sure to go mental.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” He whispers at the same time you say, “Please don’t kill me.”

If he’s surprised or hurt by what you say, he doesn’t (or probably can’t) show it. The words are muffled through the glass, but you’ve trained your ears to hear through the small opening at the bottom. He holds both palms open and says nothing else.

You… want to trust him, really. More than just the fact that his eyes are so pretty they shine like a fantastic lake straight out of a story book; or that his freckles paint him like an old, long dead painter might have painted the stars. You want to trust him in the open and gentle way he seems to offer up his hands and promise you more than what the rest of Krat has since the frenzy.

In the rubble of a burning city crashing in on itself, there is not a speck of gentleness to be spared. This— puppet has it in spades, and it draws you out of your panic just enough to pull the window open bit by bit. You do not break his gaze for a moment as you tug it up and open, and he is patient enough not to be the first to do so. Instead, he stretches a hand out to you and waits for your warm skin to meet the cold smooth synthetic surface of his own non-legion hand.

It would be just your luck if somehow puppets learned how to lie, too, but something tells you he means it wholly and honestly when he insists he will not hurt you. The whirring picks up gently, almost imperceptibly quicker, but you don’t pay it any mind. The edges of your instincts are sharp with distrust, but you lay your hand and life in the hands of this puppet and find yourself minding it less and less with each second.

A loaded pause passes— you stare down at your hands barely touching and he watches you with that same, frozen expression. You thickly swallow before you wrap your fingers around his hand and look up right into those beautiful blues.

“Would you… like to come in?”

Now, you don’t have much experience in how to fuel (feed?) an automaton; wasn’t your job before the frenzy and certainly hasn’t become since, but you could learn. It’s a silly thought to have, but you haven’t had a guest in god knows how long and a sharing a cup of tea sounds lovely (if puppets could even have tea). And — sure, maybe openly inviting the literal enemy of every human being in Krat into your house isn’t the smartest thing to do, but you can’t help it. More than just his pretty face, his gentle hand caresses yours so softly and the nod he gives is so warm that in the loneliness of having been the last sentient thing in the area, you couldn’t help but falter.

The world around you tastes of ash and rubble, but you meet someone who seems to bring about a breath of fresh air. His eyes are bright like ergo, and his hair fluffs like a black cloud. When he nods ever softly, something whirrs and clicks in the air. Your heart pounds against your ribs, and you don’t know if it’s really out of fear anymore.

Your world ended in a frenzied flurry of plague and massacre; it started again when you peaked through your window and met him.

#lies of p x reader #pinocchio x reader #lop x reader #reader inser drabble #First game fandom I’ve ever written for #Usually it’s shows #or films #I prefer to write on ao3 but was too short to be put on there #Lee’s writing ✍️

[wyvernne]

III. In which the Holy Knight wins Diluc’s favor

for @mmmairon

read on ao3

The moment you step through the tavern door Diluc levels you with an irritated look. You grin, knocking the door shut with your hip. “That’s quite the way to greet your guests, sir.”

Even from this distance, you can see his jaw working in irritation. Can he smell the blood?

“You look awful,” he says quietly. You make yourself comfortable at the bar, sighing at the ache as you settle down.

Today the Inquisitors were kind enough to personally spar with you, four to one. You didn’t stand a chance. Especially considering half of them wield visions.

“Thanks,” you respond dryly. It’s early enough in the evening that there’s only a few sparse customers spread across the tavern, mostly keeping to themselves. “What’s on special today?”

Diluc sets a glass in front of you. “Water.”

You scoff, flicking the glass with your finger. “Do you think I’m a child?”

“I cannot, in good conscience, give you alcohol when you’ve got wounds like that,” he says firmly.

You lift your head, squinting at him. “How can you tell?”

You already know the answer. He can smell it. Diluc doesn’t take your bait.

He startles you when he reaches out, thumb wiping against your jaw. He pulls away, lifting his hand for you to see. You missed a spot then.

“You’ve got blood all over you. Don’t think I can’t tell the difference between yours and others.” He has immaculate self control, seeing as he merely wipes his hand off with a rag. Waste of a perfectly good snack.

You wince, rubbing your temple. “Diluc, I’m really not—“

There’s a clatter, and you stop short. Diluc motions to the jar he’s just dropped in front of you. “At least put salve on that nasty cut on your temple.”

You’ve got far more than that, really. Those bastards in white didn’t hold back at all.

“Give me a glass of wine first,” you grumble.

Diluc sighs. He’s lucky he’s got a nice face. It’s a miracle he keeps customers at all with that sour attitude of his.

———————————

You’ve had far too much to drink. Charles, in all his infinite kindnesses, has supplemented Diluc’s rather stingy bartending with a generous flow of mixed drinks. It’s only you that Diluc is withholding liquor from, seeing as the tavern has gotten infinitely rowdier as the night has gone on.

Diluc chats idly with a patron at the other end of the bar. It’s hard not to watch him, honestly. It feels like a sin not to. Not when the Divines’ most perfect creation is right in front of you, hair tied back with a black ribbon.

Can ribbons be sensual? They look like it on Diluc. Gods. They’re practically a sex symbol when he wears it. Everything is.

The alcohol has dulled both your thoughts and the pain from the wounds the Inquisitors left behind. Hangover or not, it’s worth it now, when all you need to think about is how good Diluc looks.

Gods, he looks so good.

“Are you alone?” You barely manage to stop yourself from rolling your eyes as a man sidles up beside you. You didn’t come here tonight to look for a partner.

“I’m quite content by myself,” you reply. As if he could draw your attention when Teyvat’s most beautiful being is standing feet away. You turn away, and for a single moment catch Diluc’s gaze. Okay? he mouths.

“Listen,” The man’s hand slides up your back. You swat at him, scoffing. Take a fucking hint. “How about you and I get out of here?”

“Fuck off,” you reply sharply. You’re too drunk to deal with a nuisance like him delicately.

“Don’t be so standoffish,” he coos. You flex your fingers. It’s hard to mitigate your strength when you’re intoxicated, but you have no qualms about sending this bastard flying.

His hand slips to your flank. Enough. You shift back, raising your fist.

You don’t get the chance. It takes you a long moment to realize Diluc has one hand around your wrist and the other yanking the man away from you by the collar.

“If you’re going to bother my patrons, get out,” he says firmly. The tavern falls quiet.

The man laughs, raising his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay.”

Diluc releases him, shifting to block you from his view. His fingers are still clasped around your wrist, but you haven’t the mind to shake him off. Not yet.

“I wasn’t bothering you, was I, sweetheart?” he asks, peering around Diluc’s shoulder to see you.

You nudge Diluc to the side, shaking free of his hold. “Go fuck yourself.”

The man’s smile drops. He scowls, yanking his collar away from his throat. “I was just leaving, anyway.”

Something crosses his face and he grins, leaning close to you. “Ah. Does the Church know a monster is going around masquerading as a citizen of Mondstadt?”

You swing.

————————

You grin, giving Diluc a thumbs up. “You’re welcome. I wouldn’t say no to a ‘thank you’ drink, mind you.”

He sighs, pressing a cloth to your nose. “Keep it there until the bleeding stops.”

“Just give me a drink, for fucks sake,” you grumble. You’re still far too drunk to be making rational decisions, but no part of you regrets throwing that punch. Bastard got what was coming to him.

“No.”

Diluc is angry. He must be, seeing as you struck a paying customer square in the face. That bastard is lucky his elbow caught your nose by pure chance as Diluc was pulling you back. You would’ve concussed him without a second thought.

Diluc speaks again after a long beat, setting a glass down in front of you. “Please, don’t go starting brawls in my tavern again.”

You take a tentative sip, frowning at the realization that it’s just juice. “I was only defending your honor.”

He laughs dryly. “My honor has been stamped into the dirt for decades. Don’t bother yourself with it.”

A hand touches your shoulder. Not again.

You turn, half ready to swing again, but it’s only Harry. He grins heartily at you.

“I’ve come to retrieve this,” he says to Diluc, nodding to you.

Diluc’s jaw ticks. He almost looks murderous, if you could focus your vision for long enough to tell. “Back to the slaughterhouse already?”

Harry bows. “You wound us, Sir. We’re only doing our jobs. I heard a commotion and thought I would fulfill my duty and lend a hand. It’s no surprise this one was the cause.”

“Are they angry?” you manage, tossing the rag onto the counter. The bleeding hasn’t exactly stopped, but it’s slowed enough for now.

Harry scoffs, tugging you off the stool. “Take a wild guess.”

Your head is spinning. Only bad things wait for you back at the Church.

Diluc catches your arm. You turn, surprised. Deja vu, and in the span of such a short time. It’d be romantic if only you were a touch drunker.

It’s hard to gauge the expression on his face when you can hardly focus on the floor in front of you.

“Tell the Church their Knight has been delayed,” he says firmly.

“If it’s a matter of the bill—“ Harry begins.

Diluc raises a hand, cutting him off. “I don’t believe your Knight is well enough to make the trip back. I insist on providing lodgings for the night.”

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up. “You think I’d leave one of our own under your care? This intoxicated?”

“I have a room upstairs just for situations like this,” Diluc says. He tugs you out of Harry’s grip.

“Tell the Church to fuck off,” you offer with another thumbs up. It’s probably not something you’d ever say sober, but you’ve enough alcohol in you to dull any reservations you’ve had about criticizing the Church.

“You fuck off,” Harry mutters, raking a hand through his hair. “Don’t come whining to me when the Inquisitors find out.”

“You won’t say a word?” you ask. You’re not far gone enough to ignore the warning he’s giving you.

“I never saw you here,” Harry grumbles. He turns on his heel, clearly irritated.

You don’t dwell on it. Diluc lets out a breath, and heaves you over one shoulder without a second thought for the onlookers around you. “To bed with you, then.”

———————

“Let me know if you feel like you might get sick,” Diluc murmurs, pulling a chair up to the bedside.

“I’m not that drunk,” you slur. Your head is throbbing, but it’s hard to tell if it’s the alcohol or the fact that you were hit in the head today. Twice, at that.

“Is the Church always so rough during training?” he asks.

You open one eye, peeking at him. He’s trying to act nonchalant, leafing through the book left on the nightstand, but his words are pointed enough. “Trying to use the wine against me, eh?”

He scoffs, but doesn’t glance up from the pages. “You’re sober enough to snark back, aren’t you?”

You sigh, rolling onto your side. “I’ve been injured more during training than I have out on the field.”

He looks up, finally, mouth pressed into a firm line.

You sling your arm back over your eyes, grumbling. “I don’t need your judgment.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he replies quietly. He doesn’t have to. You know better than anyone how twisted the Church’s “traditions” are. Severe injuries during training within the Knights are accidents. Severe injuries during training within the Holy Knights are standard practice.

You can’t even count how many birthdays you’d passed with black eyes from the Inquisitors. It never gets any easier.

Diluc says nothing more. There’s only the soft rustle of pages turning and the steady sound of his breathing to lull you into sleep.

———————

“Diluc,” you press. He’s irritatingly fast, stride just a touch longer than yours so you have to jog every other step to keep up with him. He either doesn’t notice the difference or doesn’t care. You’re not sure which one irks you more. “Have you decided to bring me on yet?”

“I’ve no intention of taking a Holy Knight under my employ,” he replies curtly.

You click your tongue. “I caught up to you. Shouldn’t you reward me?”

It wasn’t exactly easy to catch him just as he was exiting the city gates, especially given how early it still is. There’s also the lingering feeling that he could have left unnoticed, had he so desired. He could’ve left you far behind. It’s hard to decipher his actions, sometimes.

He made enough noise as he was leaving the tavern to alert you, hungover or not.

Diluc ignores your provocations in favor of raising a hand in greeting. You peer over his shoulder to see Elzer, waiting just beyond the end of the bridge.

“Good morning, Holy Knight,” Elzer says warmly.

You repeat the sentiment, but the nagging uncertainty in your stomach only grows at the sight of him. Diluc wouldn’t need his closest aid if he were merely returning to the winery.

“Tagging along?” Elzer asks, as much to Diluc as to you.

“Hardly,” Diluc grumbles. “But I suppose I’ve been left with no choice.”

“I’d rather not return for morning mass,” you mutter. Besides, there’s no doubt the Church has already caught wind of your little brawl in Diluc’s tavern. If you’re already going to be punished, what’s a few more transgressions for the list?

“You should do well to remember your vows. I have no interest in catching the Church’s attention just because they can’t keep their knights in check,” Diluc sighs, exasperated. “Especially after last night.”

Despite his complaints, he makes absolutely no effort to stop you from trailing behind him. Elzer, in all his good graces, slows his pace to match yours with a warm smile. Your hangover has slowed you enough to be a nuisance, but Diluc makes no comment of it. Besides, you’re sure your face is quite the sight, given all that’s happened.

Your little trip ends far sooner than you’d expected, only a ways down the road from the city. Diluc halts abruptly, arm shooting out to stop you.

There, a group of Fatui stand only a few yards off the path, obscured by the overgrowth of trees. It’s not exactly the most secretive of meeting places. It’s… it’s almost absurd, how easy it was to spot them. Anyone with their wits about them could catch sight of their ominous presence just beyond the green.

“Don’t speak,” he says quietly. You sigh, but you’re not stupid enough to disobey him. You trust Diluc far more than any order that could come from the Church. He knows that well enough.

Elzer steps in front of you as you approach. You’re certainly not wearing any favonius insignias, but the Fatui spend their share of time monitoring the Church. There’s no telling if any of them might recognize your face.

From bartending to meeting with the Fatui only hours later. Once again, Diluc’s intentions are impossible to understand.

It’s a small team, only three soldiers and a commander. They seem relatively low-ranking, given their badges. You stay obediently back, only nodding your head towards the group in acknowledgment.

“Sir,” the Commander begins, opening his arms wide. Diluc is pulled into a haphazard hug. You’ve seen the greeting enough between Snezhnayans, but the Commander should know well enough that Diluc is put off by the gesture. He must be testing his boundaries.

Diluc’s expression remains unchanging. You tune out most of the business talk the moment it begins. It’s not what you followed Diluc for, after all. You already know most of what they’re saying is likely coded beyond anything you’d hope to decipher.

Regardless, any intent you had to soak up the information from this little transaction of his falters when you see the weapons. The Fatui are all heavily armed. Every nerve in your body goes alight. Diluc seems strangely relaxed, given the situation.

Even Elzer doesn’t spare you a glance. He has that same, unfaltering smile, pleasant to the point that it’s eerie.

You don’t even have a sword at your hip. It’s utterly belated, but it’s only now you realized neither Diluc nor Elzer have a single weapon. Even all your training is nothing when faced with the sheer firepower each Fatuus holds in their hands. It feels like too obvious a trap.

The talks drag on for nearly an hour. Wine, grapes, mora. Simple business transactions, if taken at face value. But still… there’s something in the air that has your stomach in knots. Something about the way Diluc and Elzer are so utterly nonchalant, even when speaking with their supposed enemies.

The Fatuus just to the right of Diluc shifts. It’s hardly anything noteworthy at all, really, but you can tell from his stance.

He’s stiff, as if he’s preparing himself for something. Everything else drowns out. You can focus only on that rigid figure across from you. His arm shifts suddenly, and it’s—

Well. You can blame your stupidity on reflexes, at best.

You jolt forward, shoving Diluc to the side just as a bang resounds through the air. He catches himself easily, but the words don’t make it out of your throat.

You’re an idiot, truly.

Maybe being around Diluc has dulled your sensibilities. All you can focus on is how hard it is to catch your breath. It feels like you’ve been punched. You grapple blindly at your shoulder, and to your surprise your glove comes away darkened with blood.

An odd sound escapes your throat at the sight. Blood. You’re bleeding.

Whatever Diluc’s intention was, it’s clear you’ve utterly fucked it all up. The thought has your stomach lurching. Idiot. You’re such an idiot.

There’s a deafening commotion, a scuffle only a few feet away. You can’t focus on any of it. Your mind isn’t functioning correctly. Shot. You were shot. It’s hard to breathe. There’s so much blood.

You gasp for air, doubling over. Diluc shouts some distance away and suddenly Elzer is by your side, coaxing you down. You’re bleeding, but your hand grapples to your throat, slick with sweat, as you try desperately to fill your lungs.

“I can’t breathe,” you wheeze. Elzer leans you back, pressing you flat to the ground.

“There, just like that,” he soothes, pulling his jacket off. He folds the fabric over your shoulder with quick efficiency.

“Deep breath,” he instructs. You’re fucking trying. He puts his weight onto the mess of your shoulder, wincing as you sob in response. Your heels kick against the ground, trying to escape the pressure, but Elzer holds firm.

“I don’t feel well,” you manage. You sound like an upset child, voice unsteady and weak.

You can’t even focus on Elzer’s face. You feel hot and deathly cold at the same time, strewn between breathlessness and nausea and feeling like your heart is about the burst any moment.

Diluc comes into view, blood splattered across his cheek. He ducks down, replacing Elzer’s hands with his own. “Doctor is coming. Hold on a little longer.”

Oh no. Just seeing his face has your emotions welling up again, and you can feel tears prick at your eyes. “Diluc.”

“I’m right here,” he replies. Diluc’s fangs are out. You can see it when he speaks, that threatening glisten of ivory hiding just behind his rosy lips.

He should drink while he has the chance. Make good use of whatever blood hasn’t already spilled out into the dirt around you.

You repeat his name, but this time your voice catches on a sob.

He hushes you. He’s shaking. You can feel the way it vibrates through your body. Or maybe you’re the one shaking. It’s hard to tell.

“Elzer, go meet him halfway,” he orders sharply.

“How?” you ask. He seems to know what you mean. You were hit only… minutes ago? It’s hard to judge how much time has passed. Certainly not enough to fetch a doctor, even given how close the city is.

“I ran,” he mutters. Right. He isn’t like you. He isn’t human. He would’ve been fine, even if the bullet had hit its mark. How stupid and thoughtless could you be?

You swallow. “The Fatui?”

“Dead,” he answers dismissively. Diluc swallows. “You’ve lost a lot of blood already. Don’t waste your energy needlessly.” There’s something strange in the tone of his voice, but you can hardly mull over it. It doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it might. Maybe it’s the adrenaline. You just feel sick.

“It’s okay. Elzer will be back with the doctor soon. Just— just hold on.” Diluc almost sounds frantic. The pressure he’s putting on your shoulder is starting to ache, but it’s hard to focus on what, exactly, hurts.

“I’m going to be sick,” you manage.

Diluc shifts you onto your side just as you begin retching. Maybe it’s by the grace of the Anemo Archon that nothing comes up, but it’s no less embarrassing. Especially in front of Diluc.

When the fit ends he eases you onto your back once more, pressure firm over your shoulder. If it hit an artery, you’ve no more than a few minutes left, at best. The expression on Diluc’s face makes it hard to gauge just how bad it really is.

He’s pretty, at least. A nice view to die before. It’s a petty, shallow thought. Especially given how upset Diluc looks at the situation. Maybe you are an idiot after all.

——————

Getting put on house arrest seems rather unfair, given all the circumstances. Not dying should be celebrated under the Anemo Archon’s grace, according to everything the Church preaches to the masses.

Except, perhaps, when the whole “almost dying” happens because you directly disobeyed orders from the Inquistors. According to them, of course. You were merely helping out an acquaintance.

It only takes a day, locked in your room, for a bottle of wine to miraculously appear on the windowsill. It’s hard to tell if it’s a gift from Barbatos himself or the goodwill of a certain red-haired beauty. You don’t ponder it. Wine is wine, after all. And it’s a welcome treat to pass the hours and stave away the nasty ache in your shoulder.

You’re not one to question a heartfelt gift.

#deadass let me know if you catch mistakes because i only reread it once LOL #i didn’t feel like making a new banner soz #wyvernne’s ramblings #genshin impact #diluc ragnvindr #genshin impact fanfiction #diluc fanfic #vampire diluc #vampluc #ugh what tags #drabble #diluc ragnvindr fanfiction #genshin fanfic #vampire diluc fanfiction #snrjjddnksdjksjdfj

[frecklystars]

im gonna start making doodles trying to reclaim my TF F/Os that i've lost, maybe once a week or once every two weeks... or once a month?? i dont know, i will try to keep some consistency but i really need to start slow on this. here's to hoping that drawing them every once in a while will make even just the smallest difference.

im so sick of associating these characters with my abuser and i'm so sick of the immediate fight or flight response that i get when just looking at pictures of TF characters or even the voice actors. i have tried just about everything... therapy, medication, exercise, watching a few clips from the shows, buying cameos, commissioning art/fics, talking to voice actors in person at conventions... nothing has helped me get better at all. i tried giving up on TF entirely, throwing out/giving away all of my TF merch, refusing to touch the franchise, but that has only made me more and more miserable as time has passed. it has been over a year since [insert the most horrific experiences ever here] happened to me and since i associated that with a long list of things, TF included. and im! sick! of feeling bad! so! if im gonna be miserable no matter what, then i might as well try to get better, right?? drawing my F/Os loving me has never failed me before, so here's to hoping it isn't gonna fail me now. i am quite the stubborn bitch and i refuse to allow my main coping mechanism i've used for 2 decades to remain tainted forever and ever 😤😤

these will be the shakiest, shittiest doodles imaginable, but i think drawing the robots i miss so much at least once a month can help me rewire my brain into believing they're safe again and they love me and i'm not in danger. i think the best thing that will help me is drawing my Ryan F/Os interacting with them as "proof" that they're safe to be around, that they've "approved of" them, will help me slowly reclaim them. fake it til you make it as they say. let's try this for maybe just a couple of months as a slow start and see how it goes :/

any TF doodles will be tagged as "reclaiming robots tag" and nothing else - free to blacklist it if you dont wanna see. i'll most likely be rarely posting these but jic //shrug

anyway. yay. attempts number one and two. i like to think barbie and ken stop by the starflower meadow every now and then because stsc summons them across the multiverse, asking them how i'm doing, if i'm safe, if i miss him at all. wow i am shaking so bad. ha ha haaa. these took about ten?? minutes?? so woohoo to ten minutes of drawing TF. im proud of myself for trying. even if i dont go through with this and end up not being able to draw TF ever again, at least i managed this one single post. if i keep this up, maybe a year from now, or two years or five years or whatever, i'll be able to handle it. i don't even expect to hyperfixate on TF ever again because my self shipping will never ever be the same w/ them -- i'll never interact with the fandom again, i'll never reblog fanart or gifsets or anything like that ever again, if i even somehow managed to feel good enough to actually throw myself back into the shows -- but i want to think i'll feel indifferent to it one day. to not have that fight or flight response. that is my goal. literally the bare fucking minimum <3

anyway. i'm super nauseous. this is so incredibly hard! holy shit!!! but that's why i have to do this. to quote pedro pascal, i am going to have a panic attack and i am going to leave 👍✨

(BTW I am still gonna stay offline for a few more days. I am back from vacation but I am SO burnt out I don't want to interact with dms/my inbox yet. I just wanted to post this just to get it out of my system and let it disappear into the void. But I will be back later this week bc I still have some commissions to finish and I wanna gush about my very exciting time meeting steve/tom/the brba cast. anyway... goodnight. i love you. smooch)

#reclaiming robots tag

[fridgrave2-0]

alright, I watched the holy trinity aka tgwdlm, black friday and npmd. here's my highly subjective opinions about them !!

first of all, I like all of them, but some more, some less. I'm not dissing or hating any of them, and pls be chill if you like it more than I do

the guy who didn't like musicals: plot 6/10. very simple and basic, still nice though. if I had a nickel for every time I saw a plot with alien possession and blue shit, I'd have two nickels. which isn't a lot, but it's weird what it happened twice. paul and emma are cool, little cute couple. songs 5/10. sorry I have to be honest, but it was insanely hard for me to watch tgwdlm and pay attention when they start singing, what is an issue for a musical. sometimes I was even thinking about skipping them (I know it's a crime I'm sorry). most of the songs I forgot right after they ended, but two of them are SUCH bangers what they kinda overcompensated my experience. yeah I'm talking about "join us and die" and "let it out". they fucking killed it.

total: 5/10

black friday: plot 8/10. i enjoyed it so much I can't even describe. most of the characters are charismatic and likable as fuck and I cried like a bitch from tom's song in the beginning. everything about lex, ethan and hannah is a chef's kiss, I was SO invested. and LORE. so much lore I needed that. songs 6/10 HEAR ME OUT! i loved them, I cried at them, I enjoyed them, but personally I don't find them catchy. i don't want to relisten them like actual song in a playlist. would I want to hear them in the musical when I'll rewatch it? absolutely. besides that? not my cup of tea.

total: 7/10

nerdy prudes must die: plot 9/10. unpredictable, crazy, wild, funny. i loved every second of it, every character and every twist, even if I unwillingly spoilered ghost max thingy to myself. maybe it's my hyperfixation talking, but this is the only musical in the trilogy which I want to study with a microscope and rewatch forever. it's the best thing what happened to me in 2024. max is my bbg, pete and steph are fucking cute, grace is a menace and I love it for her, richie is a second bbg, ruth is my queen. minus one point only for max's dad existing, I hate his guts (and maybe for not giving bryce more singtime she's so good omfg. but about it later). SONGS 11/10 HOLY SHIT. the last time I could've relisten all the songs from the musical over and over again was hamilton and npmd just destroyed it like the nuke. the vocals, the music, the lyrics, it just changed my brain chemistry. i was listening to the npmd song for fucking hours in a row while drawing and i wasn't sick of it later. THE SUMMONING god the summoning holy shit!!! highschool is killing me, literal monster, hatchet town, COOL AS I THINK I AM, JUST FOR ONCE-- I just love all of them so much I can't.

total: 10/10

now it's nightmare time 🔥🔥🔥

#the guy who didn't like musicals #tgwdlm #black friday #nerdy prudes must die #npmd

[wetpillowprincess]

God I have been scrolling thru ur blog for hours and my entire hand is wet from how long I’ve been edging and how badly I want to come. I’m laying with my legs spread wide and I’m afraid if I move or breathe I’ll come and the fun will be over. I want to lock eyes with you at a party and sneak off to the bathroom and fuck each other hard and fast with our clothes half on, your dress pulled down around your waist and your hand twisted in my hair, burying my face in your chest. You moan into my hair to keep quiet as I wrap my arms around your waist and spread my hands across back and leave marks all down your torso. Without taking my attention off of your tits I would hike up your dress and push myself in between your legs as I lifted you up onto the sink. You’re leaving marks on the mirror and no longer trying to quiet your moans but we don’t care, because I’m three fingers deep and your wetness is pooling in the palm of my hand. I kiss you hard on the mouth and you grope at my chest zealously as I keep us balanced upright. My fingers pump in and out of you rhythmically, and the sound of your wetness makes my vision fog up with sheer disbelief at the perfection of the moment. For a minute I watch, entranced, as your mouth bites itself and fall open with gasps of pleasure, until you thread one hand through my hair and the other interrupting the palm fucking you, gently guiding my mouth to your cunt. I stare at it as if dumbstruck by an angel, your thighs framing it on either side like wings. It sings it’s siren song and I am a desperate sailor, happily swimming towards my demise. I grip my hands around your waist to keep you steady, and what I feel as I cover your clit with my tongue and lips is not biology but magic, not pleasure but God. My own cunt is numb and cold from the wetness and buzzing of pleasure that has been building since the second you walked into the bathroom behind me, and my knees buckle from your sweet and earthy taste. You barely keep in a scream as I slide my tongue inside you, and your legs snap around my head, drawing me in closer than possible. I suck and lick and kiss and edge until my jaw is nearly locked, but like an avalanche, my chin and cheeks are wet with squirt and cum, and you grip the wall and mirror behind you to brace yourself as you unconsciously grind harder into my face. Before you even cool down you bring my cum soaked mouth to yours and lick inside. I finally fall to my knees and you come with me, draping yourself across my body and burying your face into my neck with kisses and nips. Your hands touch and grope every inch of me and my back and your knees on the cold hard floor means nothing to either of us. I loop my fingers through your hair not to guide you but to feel you, to feel the muscles on your scalp move as your mouth works at my chest, stomach and hips. Your fingers barely brush the edge of my underwear and the world goes quiet. With the same eyes you first watched me dance with, you watch me now as I throw my head back in pleasure as your jaw works at my pussy. I cum quickly but you still kiss me there because you are hungry too. After, you don’t bother moving. You rest your cheek against my naked pelvis and i thread my fingers through your hair draped over my thigh. Our dresses are piled up and discarded but before we fall asleep we help each other get dressed, making one person jobs for two people. I kiss your shoulders lightly as I zip you up, and you kiss my nose as you pull the dress over my head, giggling from exhaustion and disbelief at what we just did. We don’t bother to touch up our hair or your shade of lipstick smeared onto my face because when you take me home, we’re just getting straight out of it.

holy fuck you deserve your pussy ate the fuck out for this. anon...you're so sexy and i'm so wet because of everything you said.

#lesbian nsft #sapphic nsft #wlw nsft #lesbian #wlw post #dirty anons #dirty asks

[poppy-metal]

Some Eddie things I like to think is canon:

•Eddie sitting outside the trailer on a summers night gently strumming his acoustic guitar

•Eddie feeding all the stray cats in the trailer park

•Feeding the cats with Eddie and they come and rub up against your leg and Eddie giving you the most offended look “it took forever for them to trust me” before pouting

•Eddie picking wildflowers for you just cause

•Eddie making you pot brownies because he knows you like to get high but only like shotgunning cause smoking makes your eyes water

•Eddie picking all the tomato out of your salad and eating it because they messed up your order

•Eddie playing the acoustic guitar as a background soundtrack when you’re doing mundane tasks eg cooking dinner, laundry, even brushing your teeth

•Eddie sitting on your thighs, you on your stomach, and drawing small sketches on your back

•Eddie giving you the puppy dog eyes and when you lean in to give him a kiss he blows a raspberry against your lips and giggles

•Eddie pinning up nsfw Polaroids of you around the trailer to see your flushed and embarrassed reaction

•Eddie using permanent marker to write “property of Eddie Munson” on all your underwear

•Sitting outside on the cool grass on a late spring afternoon having a deep conversation with Eddie and noticing he hasn’t said anything in a while and looking over and the boy has gotten distracted by a butterfly fluttering around

•Eddie hiding all your bras as a sign of protest “they like the freedom baby”

•Asking Eddie for a sip of his drink but instead of handing you the cup he takes a swig and leans over and dribbles it into your mouth

•Painting his minis on the couch while he sits at your feet and paints your toe nails (he’s actually really good because he has years of practice painting his minis)

•Sitting you on his cock keeping him warm when he’s coming up with a new campaign ideas cause “I think better when I’m inside you.”

•Playfully spanking you whenever you walk near him, one time he does it too hard and leaves a whole ass hand print, he’s apologetic at first but hooo boy does he get hard seeing you all marked up because of him. Kisses it better

•”what the fuck are you wearing?” - “what do you mean?” - “that jacket!” - “it’s cold outside??” - “who’s is it!” - “uh mine??” - “how DARE you, take it fucking off” he storms over pulling your jacket off before replacing it with his “don’t let me see you wearing this again” you always gotta have something of his on you

•matching clothes ✨

•Eddie ‘borrowing’ your scrunchies

•Leaving post-it notes for Eddie because the boy has ADHD and a gets distracted and forgets things so easily

•leaving little love notes in his drug box

•the group making fun of him but he doesn’t care because it makes him so happy that someone loves and thinks of him this much

•Eddie spraying you with his cheap cologne when you go out with the girls cause he knows by the end of the day your social battery will be drained and the smell of him grounds you

•Eddie using your ‘fancy’ (drug store) hair products cause they make his hair all shiny and smooth and as a bonus they smell like you

•makes you a mixed tape every time his fave bands drop a new album — you’re running out of room for all the tapes man

———————

Holy crap sorry I got carried away 😳 i had to cut myself off lmao

holds this post in my hands delicately like a flower.

#ask #eddie spaghetti