#I got carried away... sorry

[jfleamont]

I think it's noteworthy how Sn*ly is all about Sn*p* changing for/because of Lily and how a lot of Jily fans don't like the idea of James changing only for/because of Lily. [I just saw your post talking about James and Lily in sixth year]

Hello! This is something I've thought about a lot.

As I said in the post (here it is), there is a substantial difference between changing for yourself and changing for someone else.

Now, there's nothing wrong with someone inspiring you to change for the better: people can and should be a positive influence on you, especially the ones closest to you. This is not Snape's case in my opinion. Lily tried to stop him from pursuing the dark arts, she showed there was an alternative, but he refused to listen. When she made the choice to cut him out of her life, he didn't accept it and kept harassing her. When he found out Voldemort wanted to kill the Potters, he asked him to spare Lily, and only Lily.

Did he behave differently after she died? You'd think he'd learn a thing or two from the love of his life, like compassion and kindness. Like being good without an ulterior motive. But no, he heavily bullied kids - and not just any kids, we're talking about his students - and was incredibly biased towards Harry because he was his enemy's son. He criticised James' bullying but he did the same thing even as an adult. Sounds a bit hypocritical to me.

It can be argued that Snape was just pretending to be horrible because he couldn't let his cover be blown. And it can also be argued that he grew fond of Harry but never showed it. Let's assume all of this is true... Am I right in thinking that being so hideous came way too easily to him? And what's more important, are we sure he didn't want Voldemort dead purely because he had killed Lily? After all, we have plenty of evidence that he's extremely prone to holding grudges. It makes sense that he'd want to get revenge against the man who didn't spare Lily's life.

We do not know if he had other reasons, but even the memories that Harry sees in the pensieve reinforce my theory. I'll play devil's advocate and not take into account the things he said or did as a Hogwarts student because many people think that he was just being an immature teenager. So let's see what we have:

“If she means so much to you,” said Dumbledore, “surely Lord Voldemort will spare her? Could you not ask for mercy for the mother, in exchange for the son?” “I have—I have asked him—” “You disgust me,” said Dumbledore, and Harry had never heard so much contempt in his voice. Snape seemed to shrink a little, “You do not care, then, about the deaths of her husband and child? They can die, as long as you have what you want?” Snape said nothing, but merely looked up at Dumbledore.

And then:

“The Dark Lord will return, and Harry Potter will be in terrible danger when he does.” There was a long pause, and slowly Snape regained control of himself, mastered his own breathing. At last he said, “Very well. Very well. But never—never tell, Dumbledore! This must be between us! Swear it! I cannot bear... especially Potter’s son... I want your word!”

But this is when the pain is still fresh, right? Maybe he wasn't thinking clearly. Let's see another passage, ten years later, during Harry's first year, where Snape is 31:

“—mediocre, arrogant as his father, a determined rulebreaker, delighted to find himself famous, attention-seeking and impertinent—”

This is how Snape describes Harry to Dumbledore, the one person he didn't need to lie to, the only person who knew he was a double agent. But then again, this is just at the beginning, he didn't know Harry that well. Maybe he'll change his mind in the future? Let's take a look at the scene where Dumbledore asks him to kill him:

“If you don’t mind dying,” said Snape roughly, “why not let Draco do it?” “That boy’s soul is not yet so damaged,” said Dumbledore. “I would not have it ripped apart on my account.” “And my soul, Dumbledore? Mine?”

Sounds like he doesn't want to be the cause of yet another person's death. Understandable. Snape isn't being selfish at all, no. He's worried about his poor soul, who cares about the soul of 16 year old Draco, am I right? Maybe this next passage will redeem him:

“Why? You aren’t trying to give him more detentions, Severus? The boy will soon have spent more time in detention than out.” “He is his father over again—” “In looks, perhaps, but his deepest nature is much more like his mother’s. I spend time with Harry because I have things to discuss with him, information I must give him before it is too late.” “Information,” repeated Snape. “You trust him... you do not trust me.” “It is not a question of trust. I have, as we both know, limited time. It is essential that I give the boy enough information for him to do what he needs to do.” “And why may I not have the same information?” “I prefer not to put all of my secrets in one basket, particularly not a basket that spends so much time dangling on the arm of Lord Voldemort.” “Which I do on your orders!” “And you do it extremely well. Do not think that I underestimate the constant danger in which you place yourself, Severus. To give Voldemort what appears to be valuable information while withholding the essentials is a job I would entrust to nobody but you.” “Yet you confide much more in a boy who is incapable of Occlumency, whose magic is mediocre, and who has a direct connection into the Dark Lord’s mind!” [...] “You refuse to tell me everything, yet you expect that small service of me!” snarled Snape, and real anger flared in the thin face now. “You take a great deal for granted, Dumbledore! Perhaps I have changed my mind!”

Let's see... He's comparing Harry to James again, calls him mediocre and he's jealous because Dumbledore trusts Harry more than Snape. Oh, and he threatens to turn to the dark side if he doesn't get what he wants. This is a 37 year old man. Perhaps he's just upset because Dumbledore is dying? Yeah, that's it. Let's give him another chance:

Another long silence. Then Snape said, “I thought... all those years... that we were protecting him for her. For Lily.”

[...] “You have used me.” “Meaning?” “I have spied for you and lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to be to keep Lily Potter’s son safe. Now you tell me you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter—” “But this is touching, Severus,” said Dumbledore seriously. “Have you grown to care for the boy, after all?” “For him?” shouted Snape. “Expecto Patronum!” From the tip of his wand burst the silver doe. She landed on the office floor, bounded once across the office, and soared out of the window. Dumbledore watched her fly away, and as her silvery glow faded he turned back to Snape, and his eyes were full of tears. “After all this time?” “Always,” said Snape.

I don't know, maybe they should protect Harry simply because he's a kid and he doesn't deserve to die? Isn't that enough? He doesn't have to be Lily's son to be worthy of staying alive. And when Dumbledore insinuates that he cares about Harry, Snape makes it clear that no, it's not for him, and after all these years... It's still for Lily. Because he's asking for her forgiveness. Noble, right? It's not as if you should do good things because it's the right thing to do.

Snape took the page bearing Lily’s signature, and her love, and tucked it inside his robes. Then he ripped in two the photograph he was also holding, so that he kept the part from which Lily laughed, throwing the portion showing James and Harry back onto the floor, under the chest of drawers...

Oh look! He's stealing a letter that wasn't addressed to him! And he's stealing the photograph as well! Well, not all of it, why would he care about James and Harry? Totally normal and justified behaviour from a man who's nearing his forties. Not possessive at all. He definitely deserves to keep that photograph of Lily more than Harry does.

... Sarcasm aside, Snape didn't change his ways. He didn't change his morals.

(Also, in the book Snape never says 'You have your mother's eyes', which, along with Alan Rickman's wonderful perfomance, greatly contributed to Snape being considered a good man. He does ask Harry to look at him, though, implying he wanted to see Lily's eyes one last time. Which makes me think that even up until the end he only saw Harry as an extension of Lily, and not as his own person.)

Unfortunately we don't have nearly enough information about James, but we do know that he saved Snape when he went after Remus to the Shrieking Shack when they were in school, while Snape was perfectly happy to let Lily's husband and son die if it meant she could live. James wasn't a saint when he was younger, and Lily reminded him all the time how much she despised his behaviour. But as I said in the other post, the incident at the lake was eye-opening for both Lily and James. It's clear that he hadn't realised that his actions could have hurt her prior to that. He was a sheltered and ignorant kid, but we know from canon that he grew up. He became responsible enough to be appointed Head Boy without any previous experience as a prefect, and then he joined the Order. Sounds to me like he proved he could grow. Personally I think that Lily wouldn't have let James into her life if she didn't truly think he had changed. Saying that she was brainwashed into marrying James is an insult to her intelligence. It's as if she has no will of her own, no choice, no autonomy. Which is simply no true. This is the same woman who refused to join Voldemort after being offered to, who refused to step aside when Voldemort arrived at Godric's Hollow.

Snape's love - if you want to call it that - for Lily is conditional; James' love for her is selfless. He could have lived a long life but chose to fight and die for the cause. And he made this choice long before they were together, by befriending people like Sirius (a traitor), Remus (a monster) and Peter (an outcast). And after Snape stops poisoning Lily's mind - insulting and judging James and his friends - Lily is free. When he is removed from the equation, Lily is allowed to grow.

In conclusion: Snape did not change and become a better person, and even if he did, it was for selfish reasons.

[noodles-and-tea]

whaddya think of the mystery trio?

I LOVE!!!!!

[timethehobo]

Oops did it again. More photoshoot inspos with Emmrich cos I couldn’t help myself. 🤲

[moonyflesh]

[🚬]

no thoughts- just Logan smoking some big ass cigar at any given moment.

[ashoss]

would it be wrong to reuse the same caption again

[cowardlykrow]

“Not my circus, not my monkeys”… Except those are his monkeys and they are the circus

[blumineck]

What is an archer twunk like you doing on tumblr.com?

What am I doing here? I was always here...

I have seen memes rise and fall. I have witnessed the birth of legends, and I have seen them burn in the fires of the sun they strove to touch. Under my watchful eye, nine became ten, the angel met the hunter. I watched their alliance carve great swathes over the memescape, invading everything they touched, before fading into memory.

I have seen the colour of the sky, and felt the pain of a million locked hearts as the great detective waned with each passing season.

Yet I was not content to observe. I too sought to touch that incandescent orb. I have made such posts as could cause a grown man to shrivel into his own skeleton at the recollection of the ignorance of youth. Here I first felt the heady pull of 10 notes, the righteous fury of one wronged by a stranger, and the abiding shame of a stranger called out for wrongs of his own.

What am I doing here?

This place is my home. It has shaped me, moulded me. It has twisted my perception in ways that I cannot reverse, though I have travelled far, and witnessed much that is otherwise.

And now, having found some small measure of recognition, I return to the fold, bringing the skills and knowledge of far off places- gifts to educate and amuse, to quench as-yet-unknown thirsts. And you ask me: what am I doing here?

I'm doing what I've always done. I'm just better at it now.

(Also, some of y'all said you wanted to watch my videos without needing to get tiktok, so I thought I might as well post them here before someone else did)

[khickuwa]

"keep your eyes on me." 💧

[the-palelady]

listen. if you don’t like sabrina carpenter that’s fine, but that woman’s outfits are so stunning and i can just imagine ghost going absolutely mad seeing you in them.

especially in something like THIS. that man would go absolutely fucking feral.

normally he would be ripping your cute little outfits and lingerie at the seams, but oh no, not this one. the baby blue just looked so perfect, hugging your curves in all the right places. he had to keep this outfit safe no matter the cost.

one night, you slip it on right before he comes home from work, and set yourself up all pretty for him. your hair fanning out across your face, skin glowing, an angel amongst a sea of blankets and pillows right there on top of his bed.

simon’s angel.

and oh he is on his knees for you.

he’d worship every last inch of your body. those perfect, round tits that he’d suck into his mouth eagerly. he’d kiss down the plump of your tummy, the dip of your hips, until he’s nestled in between your legs.

he’d kiss along your inner thighs, moving his thumb up to rub at your sensitive nub, your back arching up into him, whining out his name like the pretty little thing you were.

simon would take his time with you. always does. he doesn’t want to hurt his girl when he finally does settle himself in between your legs, his cock heavy and sliding against your folds. the lingerie is still on, panties tugged to the side around his thumb.

“all this for me?” he’d ask in that deep, loving voice, reserved only for you. strands of his golden hair, that have grown out a bit more than usual, stick to his forehead. a handsome grin is plastered along his scarred face, lust filled eyes gleam down at you and you’d whine.

god, you loved him so much.

and he’d let you know he felt the same, wrapping his hands around the curve of your waist while he pressed himself into you. pressed himself into heaven.

“look at ya. so pretty.” you swear you hear him whine.

“takin’ me so well like a good girl.” this time you whine.

his thumb comes up to rub at your clit again while he pistons into you relentlessly. his tip hits that sweet spot so deep inside that you see stars and he backs off for a moment before hitting it over and over again.

your moans only encourage him further, his free hand roaming you like he can’t keep off of you, can’t get enough of you.

he grabs your jaw, your lips pursing from his grip. simon looks down at you with an expression so feral you could have orgasmed from that alone.

“gunna fill ya fulla me, sweet’art, that alright?”

you whine and beg for him.

yes. please, simon. inside, please.

“sing for me, angel. i wanna hear tha pretty voice.”

and you do sing for him. his name falling from your lips like a hymn, a gentle song only meant for his ears. simon can’t help but hold onto you tighter, gruff hands digging into the meat of your hips as you clench around him so tight he feels dizzy.

and he all but loses his damn mind, fucking you into the mattress despite how overstimulated you are. tears stain your pink cheeks and he thumbs them away, pressing into you so far you can feel him in your guts.

simon’s rambling, his forehead pressing into your temple as you cry out, your tears dampening his cheeks.

“ya look like a fucking goddess in this damn outfit. so beautiful. dunno wha tha fuck i did in my past life, but damned brute like me doesn’t deserve ya.”

he won’t stop talking. it’s all so much, yet the praise is sending you over the moon. your skin is on fire where his thrusts meet your ass, and you know there will be purple hand shaped bruises blooming along the expanse of your body when the morning comes.

“fuckkk,” his hips stutter slightly, your core becoming tight as he pulls himself completely out and slams himself right back to the hilt continuously.

“gunna breed this pretty pussy,” and you clench around him so fucking tight he almost collapses, a guttural moan escaping his chapped lips.

“ya like that, baby? want me to make ya a mummy?”

your back arches and you scream for him, white consuming your vision. simon’s hands grab ahold of your plump thighs and his hips roll down into you one last time. he twitches inside of your warmth while his spend coats your velvety walls. his arms reach up to wrap around your torso that’s still arched, his forehead pressing into your ribs as he catches his breath.

you both sit this way for a while, until he regains his composure and lowers your tired body back down to the bed.

when he sits up right your eyes are closed, long lashes tickling the apples of your blushing cheeks. your breathing is even now, and your skin is somehow glowing even more than it was when he first walked in. your hair cascades out around you like a wave. his palm hesitantly glides up along your tummy as if taboo. as if someone like him was undeserving of someone as soft as you.

and simon swears when he looks up at you, taking you in completely, he sees the glow of a halo above your head and a pair of angel wings nestled against the silk sheets of the bed beneath you.

[the-californicationist]

thoughts on price w a lactation kink?? 🫣

Plenty. See Exhibit A and Exhibit B, if you will.

But, if you just want some thoughts... 😈

NSFW MDNI TW: lactation kink, breeding kink, sacrilege? but in sort of a Hozier kind of way...

I don't think that John Price has a lactation kink purely for the selfish satisfaction of watching your face twist into a complicated smear of shame and pleasure as he sucks the sweet, life-giving warmth from your swollen breast, using his jaw to knead your flesh, his tongue to help guide your nectar between his lips, sucking in long, deep pulls to drain you of your rich milk.

Price doesn't just get off on the little, desperate mewl you make when his thick beard scrapes the softest skin of your nipple, rolling the tip of his strong tongue around your pert peak, coaxing your body to let down even more of his prize. Even though he tries his best to stay focused on keeping a steady rhythm, your silky stream rushing down his throat makes his cock twitch and drool like a starving, snarling beast, hungry for its own hot supper.

No, he yearns for that one, singular sound. The siren's song of his heart. He wants to hear you breathe it in your lungs and form it in your mouth and let it escape like a dove from its dark cote, quiet and yet cooing right into his eager ears.

Your sigh of relief makes his dick pulse with a sort of sick pride. From all of your soreness and tender pain, the constant ache of bearing your decadent burdens, he is the one to deliver you to peace. He is the one to bring you comfort. Him and his hungry, suckling mouth are your sanctuary.

Price's zealous thirst is your release from hurt, from pressure, from the leaking rivulets staining your sheets, a bright, new-found freedom from being so overfull that it makes you want to sob, and it's that mind-wiping alleviation which makes you so pliant for him, so ready and willing to spread your legs just a little wider, love, so he can feed his prick deep into your sacred, sacral center; that throbbing, shining, nearly-opalescent shell which welcomes his girthy offering.

As you feed him, he feeds you. Your milk in his mouth, his dick in your cunt. Your keening, his grunting. Your gushing, his pounding. There is a war between you; an infinite entropy of gain and loss and take and give - a roiling, tumbling, undulating wave of pleasure and pressure, rocking you like a ship with slackening sails, soaking at the mercy of the tide.

As you feed him, he heals you. With every crave-wild swallow of your milk, he revels in your satisfaction. Price listens to the timbre of your moans morph from troubled and weary - the hiss of a breath - to sonorant and needy - the hum of a moan - and he hunts that relaxation for you like a lion on a gazelle, dragging it towards you in offering: your protector, your provider.

And yet... there is something else. There's a second shadow, a double exposure. There is something lurking beneath the surface of all of his heroism. Something dark and unmanaged, like a forest and its fire, the flames of his desire licking for you and glowing ever-closer.

You are his to eat. His. Like a snapping mutt with a fresh bone, he subsumes you. You are not just a fleeting fancy, a sneaky kink to enjoy and destroy; no, you are his obsession. His belly is full of you, his cheeks are full of you, his balls are full for you. You. You. You. Just you. Only you. There is nothing else but to suck and to fuck and to drink and to love and to breathe in the breaths that you scream out, gulping them in sharp gasps when he comes up for air, quickly to return to his plush, writhing meal, eating you until he is drunk on your creamy vintage.

Your breasts hang for him like fruit on the vine, heavy and ready to be plucked, and he drowns in the wine of your body. He is wet from you; your pussy's frothy come coating his cock, your sugary cream coating his throat, all of it innocent and white and sacred like an offering. And it is. Your body is his sacrament. He is on his knees as he bends over you, praying for your release, for your blessing, for that twisting clench of your trembling temple. Every thrust is a sin-stained reminder that his work brings about your joy. His effort delivers your delight. His feasting is your fulfillment. John is devout.

And when you're empty, when he continues to drag weak, lax lips over your devoured flesh, mourning the loss of his delicious font, he fills you back up. Price fucks his length into you with complete, shameless abandon, his body arching and sweating and tensing and laboring for you, bending like a bow to shoot rope after rope of sticky come into the deepest part of your shuddering, stretched quim. His mind races with lurid visions of your womb flooding with his seed, of planting a bountiful garden of life with you there, helping you cradle his gift inside of you by sheathing himself fully, letting not one drop escape.

It's the bath and the bubbles afterwards that make him hard again because there you are: sleepy, sated, and sighing so sweetly for him. He tries and fails to hide his flagging erection as he washes your body, covered in temporary tattoos of his teeth and fingers, massaging the muscles that held him so close during his feeding, the arms that cradled his head and hugged his shoulders, the legs that squeezed his hips and wrapped around his broad back, holding onto him and refusing to let go. It's the balms and the lotions, all to keep your skin soft and comforted, and he applies them liberally, rubbing you in soporific circles until you are as far from suffering as you have ever been, floating in a peaceful Eden of his own foddering.

Price admires you as he lays you beside him in his bed, tucking you close to him, letting his belly press against the small of your back, clutching your hip just so that he can rest his cock against your folds, reminding you, even in your sleep, that he is your safety and your source of mindless bliss.

And when you wake up in the middle of the night aching and full again, leaking from your heavy tits? Don't worry. He's always hungry.

[puckinghischier]

thinking about how luke hughes is probably the best hugger known to man. like he is so large i just know his hugs would be like a big warm blanket around you making you forget anything that had you worried

“baby, what’s wrong?” Luke asked as you walked through the front door, shoulders rounded and a frown on your face.

“bad day, L” you responded, dropping your bag at the door and walking straight over to him, needing to feel one of his all encompassing hugs.

“hug, please?” you asked him, looking up at him.

he didn’t respond, but walked forward and wrapped his long arms around you, squeezing your body to his so tightly you felt like you would melt into him.

work had been rough lately, your duties increasing and your patience decreasing. you hadn’t had a day off in over a week, and you were so tired all you wanted to do was cry and then sleep. luke knew you’d been struggling lately. your coworkers were getting on your last nerve, management was making you madder by the day, and you just wanted time away from work, but despite your requests, they kept giving everyone else time off, but not you.

he wanted to be there for you, always trying to make sure the apartment was clean, the dishes were done, and dinner was either cooked and ready or a take out order was placed when you got home. on especially hard days, he even had a glass of your favorite wine waiting on you. but he couldn’t always be there.

with the new season quickly approaching, his training hours were increasing tremendously in anticipation of training camp starting. he was being pulled in a million different directions right now, not always there when you come home from a long day. those days were especially bad, because you had no relief from the shitty day when you got home, going and sulking on the couch instead.

luckily he was today, because all you wanted was him from the second your least favorite coworker started bitching at you today.

he rubs his hand up and down your back gently, the soothing motion causing you to close your eyes, somehow squishing yourself even further into him.

“i just don’t know how much longer i can do this, luke. i shouldn’t be feeling like this at the end of every day. i should be able to have at least one day to get away from that place and decompress, but they just won’t give me a day off,” you speak into his chest, not wanting to leave his warm embrace.

“you know i’ve told you i can take care of you, that you don’t have to keep working this job that’s killing you,” he responded, turning his head and laying his cheek on the top your head.

“and you know i’ve told you i can’t not work. you already pay for the apartment, i can’t let you pay for everything else by yourself too,” you remind him, having had this conversation several times in the last few months.

luke knows how you feel about him taking the biggest percentage of your shared bills, but he wishes you would just give in. he wants to provide for you, to give you the break that you so desperately need and deserve.

“i know, but it doesn’t have to be forever. quit this job and take a few months off before searching for another one. come to a bunch of my games this season and take some time to go back home and visit your family,” he suggests, knowing it’s been nearly a year since you last saw your them, not being able to get enough time off of work to make the trip home. “better yet, wait until next summer, then come spend it with us at the lake. or let me take you somewhere, just the two of us.”

he places a kiss to the hair on the top of your head, pulling back ever so slightly so you can lift your eyes up to meet his.

“i’ll think about it,” you appease him for the time being, not wanting to get into the full discussion right now. “right now i just wanna stay in this position for a little bit longer,” you move your head to bring your cheek to rest against his chest again, inhaling the comforting scent of his cologne.

you feel the rumble of his small chuckle in his chest, squeezing you before whispering a small “jump” while sliding his hands down to grasp under your ass, picking you up and carrying you over to couch as you cling to him like a koala.

he lays his back on the couch, bringing your body down with his so you’re laying on top of him while his arms pin you to his torso. you relax yourself into him, wiggling around just slightly to make yourself comfortable.

luke brings a hand up to play with you hair, caressing the back of your head. you bring your own hands to rest behind his neck, twirling one especially long curl around your finger over and over again, the warmness of his body and the repeated motion of his hand smoothing down your hair lulling you into a half-sleep, half-awake state.

luke says nothing, just laying there and holding you, waiting on you to make the first move to get up. if it was up to you, though, you’d never leave from this position. wanting to live and die in one of luke’s hugs.

after luke feels your breath even out and soft snores start leaving your slightly open mouth, he moves his hand from your hair to rub your back again, wanting to give you time to rest before waking you up to eat dinner.

almost an hour later, you stir, causing luke’s movements to pause.

“how long was i out?” you rasp without moving.

“about an hour. was gonna wait a bit longer before seeing what you wanted for dinner,” he whispered, his lips resting right by one of your ears.

“cuddles,” you tell him, burrowing yourself further into his chest.

luke laughs at you again, stabilizing your head with a large hand, preventing you from shaking all over with his laughter.

“you gotta eat something, baby. not good to go to sleep on an empty stomach,” he scolds you, knowing if he didn’t get food in you soon, you’d wake up tomorrow with an empty belly and a hangry attitude.

“please don’t make me move, L. the longer i lay here the more i forget about why today was so bad in the first place,” you tell him, fisting his shirt to physically ground yourself to him.

luke’s heart swells at your words, face flushing while a grin breaks out on his relaxed face.

“okay, i’ll give you another thirty minutes, but that’s it. then we’re getting up and ordering something to eat. we also need to get your stinky ass in the shower,” he teases, pinching the soft, exposed flesh on your side from where your shirt was slightly raised from all of your wiggling earlier.

you yelp and squirm around on him, brining your legs to hook around both of his, making it to where he can’t stand up without taking you with him.

“we’ll see about that,” you challenge him, nuzzling your face into his chest, focusing on the sound of his heartbeat in his chest to lull you back to sleep.

when you wake up the next morning, in the same position on the couch as last night, your stomach immediately starts to growl, not letting you forget that you didn’t eat dinner last night after convincing luke to stay there with you all night.

you were short and snappy with him, poking his face so he can let go of you so you can go shower and change for work.

knowing you were likely just hungry from last night, he slips out and runs down to your favorite bagel place to grab you some breakfast, making it back before you ever even stepped foot out of the shower.

when you finally came out of the bathroom, half-dressed with tears in your eyes, luke was immediately concerned, walking over to wipe the pooling tears and ask what was wrong.

“i can’t find my favorite blouse and i don’t want to wear another one. i could’ve swore i had washed it and hung it up, but i can’t find it, so now i’m going to look like an idiot at work all day,” you sniffle, still emotional from the previous work day.

luke assured you he’ll help you find it, but when he pulls it out of the dirty laundry hamper you almost go over the edge, mad at yourself that you didn’t wash it.

your tears quickly turn to angry ones, telling him to forget it, you’ll just find something else and then slam the door to your bedroom in his face.

when you come out in a very similar looking blouse to the one you wanted, he can still sense the hostility in your actions and attitude.

he slowly walks over to you as you unwrap your bagel, getting a little too frustrated when the wrapper is stuck to the cheese, this one piece of wax paper refusing to separate from the bagel.

tears start to spill over your eyes, causing luke to rush to your aid, tearing off the stubborn piece of paper.

“thank- thank you,” you speak softly through a hiccup.

“what else can i do to help you?” he asks, not wanting to send you off to work already in a state of unease.

“hug me?” you look at him with a pout, making luke laugh at the never ending cycle, but feeling the same about hugging him as you do, never wanting to step away from the warm blanket of comfort both of you create in these moments.

[little-red-fool]

Can you draw some doodles of true form haarlep? Maybe first meeting Raphael or smth if u want. XD

The real reason Raphael asks Haarlep to take his form.

[reverseisekai-richie]

Aww... Pokey is getting into the weeb spirit of this blog.

[xythlia]

too many fics about mc crying bc the obey me characters' cocks are so big not enough fics of the obey me characters crying bc their human body is so snug and tight and they just can't take it having to go so slow

mhm can't you just picture mammon near tears because god you're so warm, the way your pussy feel like it was made for him with every slow thrust. He wouldn't be able to pick up a rougher pace, too immediately drunk on the way you feel around him and far too afraid it would end too quickly.

Not to mention the noises you make, absolutely filthy moans of his name mixing with the slick noises of your cunt drawing him back in, as if you're refusing to let him go until he's spilled everything he could possibly give to you. It goes to his head, making his chest tighten and his field of vision is completely eclipsed by you: the way you look with your eyes screwed shut, the high pitch of your little whimpers as the head of his cock finds that spot that makes your thigh muscles twitch, the way you thred your fingers with his so tightly.

Any facade is stripped away when you've got your legs hooked around his hips, begging for more, pleading for him not to stop. If he could have his way, you'd stay like this forever. Ragged breaths puff past his lips, tear ducts stinging as you clench around him.

older brothers hcs based off this <3

[citruslullabies]

Can you do one about Anya, like the Daisuke and Curly posts, please?🙏 They're very good!

Of course sweetheart!!

Anya Mouthwashing headcannons

Trigger warnings!! Miscarriage, Jimmy, obviously if you know the game I'm making subtle hints towards rape, etc etc. read with caution.

Romantic

Pre-crash Anya:

Anya is a very sweet girl honestly

She's not very big on affection - the occasional hug and kiss here and there but she's not very big on touch. Quality time is more her style

All she really needs is to sit next to you quietly, as long as you're there, she feels safe

Especially after what happened with Jimmy. She hates to be alone.

But at the same time she wants to distance herself more

And she hates it

Any time you go in for a hug, she'll flinch

It was any day in space, cold and bland like oatmeal left out on the table. But it felt better almost immediately after you saw her.. the love of your life, Anya. You smile like the sun and walk over, arms wide but.. you watch as she suddenly stops and stares at you. As if you had done something wrong.. her breathing even starts to get faster and she quickly brushes you off and leaves. Leaving you worried and confused.

You can try and try to ask her what's wrong but she isn't sure how you'd react

What if you thought she had cheated on you with her assaulter? She knew many people reacted like that sometimes

She loves you and trusts you, but she needs distance

Much to your dismay, she just suddenly keeps away from everyone one day. Even you.

You long for her little rambles about psychology and medicines

Her quiet humming as you two sit together

It hurts.

Post-crash Anya:

You knew how stressed she was

I mean, how couldn't she be? Everything has gone to shit. Their captain was mutilated on all ends.

And she seemed more afraid than ever.

She started to slowly warm back up to you, but still wouldn't tell you any explanation

No matter how much you begged or pleaded for one

But her time around you seemed different

She was more affectionate than ever before

It was almost like it was a goodbye

She'd always do small things like nudge your hand with hers and give you a weak smile every morning

Almost as if it was a silent goodbye in case she didn't make it through the day

And you finally understood why.

Platonic

Pre-crash Anya:

I imagine you two would be a bit more goofy

If she's not busy, you're just goofing around and making funny faces to make her giggle

You two probably talk about psychology a lot together and your hopes for your futures when you return home

Sometimes she'll let the occasional demented comment slip, but you never paid it much mind

She told you what happened and you were livid

But what could you do about it?? It's not like you could

You had no position of power over Jimmy, the one man who did didn't have enough of a spine to do anything to his friend

All you could do was comfort her

But she slowly but surely drifted further and further away from you, from everybody

And every day you could see her eyes more and more empty

You had noticed her feeling more and more nauseous, cramping more

She was paler

But you assumed it was due to the pregnancy. However you quickly discovered that she took enough painkillers to cause a miscarriage

You supported her and tried to comfort her

But she didn't let you

She wanted to be alone

Post-crash Anya:

After the crash, with responsibilities crashing down on her

She was tired. And you could tell

Her body barely had enough time to recover from her miscarriage before she started to take care of their captain

She was slowly killing herself at this rate

And you couldn't be any more correct.

She just got worse and worse

You swore sometimes you could see her eyes were dead but her body just barely moving

She didn't seem to care anymore

It broke your heart to find her with pills surrounding her.

Atleast your heart wouldn't stay broken for long

Thank you for requesting!!

[cosmicwhoreo]

due to the requests of a very SPECIFIC and might I add, MANIPULATIVE Grim Reaper I loathe to call a friend that I will not name- I was asked to doodle my own version of Herobrine for their B day. And I couldn't stop after that-

Tl;Dr- damn you @grimmixxart