#Starry anon

[fromdarzaitoleeza]

the sun will come up

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“I exist.’ In thousands of agonies — I exist.

-Fyodor Dostoyevsky

[theoddest1]

Hello I am starry anon! I am just here to ask out of curiosity, after listening the tiring amount of Viv's drama and I had open my eyes now acknowledging how much of a immature and awful person she is. (Well actually I have been a long time after seeing alerting signs of her behavior and her writing on her show... Which it makes me uncomfortable.)

Sorry for the rambling, back to the question. Is there any tips or guides to not be like Vivziepop? Her shows isn't inspiring, especially the overall characters design and writing but I think sge inspires people to be caution to do and not to do in the indie animation industry (I also don't know many about indie animation industry, you may correct me.), or how they should and shouldn't behave around the internet. It doesn't have to be a whole guide, just tips or list only.

Thats all I hope you have a good day!

■[Howdy✨️Starry✨️]■

When it comes to tips on being NOT like Viv, it boils down to just being a good, hard-working person. When you're in an industry like this mainstream or not, you HAVE to be able to have a strong sense of self cause this sorta job will challenge your work and ideas. So criticism and growth are a must. Not everyone will grow at the same pace or handle the many eyes the same way, but being professional and mentally strong tends to be a useful trait to have when your delve into being a content creator period.

No matter how good a work is or how bad a work is, there will always come criticism. Critical views bring about building blocks or destroy em. How you take them matters. Viv, even when the critical comments are solid, tosses them to the side and refuses to grow. DON'T do that. Don't toss the solid and useful stuff for the sake of one's ego. It does more harm than good. It is almost as harmful as allowing the hateful words made to destroy rather than aid enter the mind as if it were food. It isn't. You have to know when something is good for you and when something is not. Never completely ignore everything and never accept everything. Have a balance.

Vivziepop wishes to only hear what she [wants] to hear. Not what she [needs]. She is like a child who was given everything and was never taught the concept of self-reflection. Never be that. Period. Be down to earth, but never buried. Be confident, but not too hot to handle. Be balanced and aware. Be fair to everyone. Imo, regardless of what occupation you have, being a balanced, adaptable person is a very solid way of living. If anyone has anything they'd like to add to helo the homie Starry out, that'd be epic af though

[I do hope I helped in any capacity. I didn't expect people asking for advice from me on here tbh, I felt like I'd be the last person to ask, but I am honored!]

[solarballs-confessions]

solarballs isn't allowing me to study for my exam- send helpp

-starry anon

go studyyyy solarballs will still be here and exams are more important than solarballs unfortunately

[chaifootsteps]

Hello Starry Anon ✨ here! I would like to give a huge applause to that one anon sharing a Lackahazbin au (If I am correct-) This overall inspired me to write an idea that explodes my head in 1 sec per min, but this only like my au draft idea:

Warning this is whole long paragraph-

Probably would like to see someone making an idea  putting Helluva boss cast into Lackadaisy and making to cats (That has better designs than Viv) And other people writing them interesting and overall many potentials stuffs, and MORE DEPTH TO THEIR PERSONALITY than Viv's writing.

But enough talking about Viv! Cause today I am sending Octavia (And Stella) to Lackadaisy, yep! Cause she deserves better, better parents than that crappy sack pathetic excuse of an owl Stolas!

I would make Octavia a scottish fold mixed with, cause well their folded ears look similar like other owls. I also had an weird idea to make her as Wick's niece, yes she's now half siamese, Idk to me everytime I look at Wick he reminds of dad friend not really but he could be a uncle. (And he does remind me of my uncle who's really nice, well expect the geology thing.)

As her design, not sure yet. But already imaging her wearing some alt goth outfits, formal or like Lolita, cause yes like cmon sprinkle the girl some goth style Viv! Seriously.. But I still needed to follow the 1920s accurate fashion style If I ever tried to reimagined her as a cat.

Also would maybe put Stella in Lackadaisy universe, I were a writer I would maybe give her a bit of a personality rather than one off mean mom. Stella will still have anger issues, but atleast not screaming all the time, and ain't stoopid cause look how they downgraded her to a idiot >:( , maybe sassy but is a caring mother to Octavia. Lmao I can imagine Stella and Wick being sibblings (Or like half sibblings- but I am all for sibblings dynamics, and yes I like the idea of Grumpy/Sassy big Sister and Clamn little brother.).

This is kinda a excuse wanting the urge to write a fanfic Wick being a uncle to Octavia, and maybe Stella reuniting with Wick again after she divorced Stolas (Who by is sucked by the blackhole cause I said so)  , like he would write some letters and sends gifts to her when his too busy. Will visit Octavia and greet her, about the gifts parts since Octavia likes Astronomy stuffs Wick could show her telescope then the two outside star gazing, they could tag Stella along too, the same Stella would bring Wick in a shopping spree with Octavia. He would comfort Octavia when she's crying, or having a bad day and will give her the space she needed. And many more more, ideas.

As much I love to ramble I am afraid I have no idea what to say. But this isn't really my first idea, the first I had was Octavia being tired of living with her stooped owl Dad and founds out a book about reincarnated to another world, so she's like "screw you Dad I am leaving" and Boom she's in Lackadaisy bit doesn't remember her current life and maybe has a better childhood (If crime in there was practically avoided.).

Overall I am happy with this idea, but you'd only have to agree with if you don't like it, it's okay. I just happened to like sharing ideas in a essay paragraph. Well sorry about that, but that's it today and I hope you have a good day/Night!

-By Starry Anon ✨

Thanks for your ideas, Starry Anon! The owl --> Scottish fold concept is my favorite, and I love what you've done with Stella.

[kibbits]

Maybe I’ll call myself Helpy. Cuz I certainly need the help. Or maybe it’s because I’m inside your head wooooo~ I could also be something simple like Starry. Cuz I’m ✨starry-eyed✨ for your boys. (ex health scare anon)

DKDJDID you can be called WHATEVER you want and also I love you sm djdjfjfbf

I'm being threatened (affectionate) with a Moon Canon and an Eclipse so I hav-- 1 minute aaa but im so glad you like them!!!! you really got me to write that answer for like hours djfjfjdfjnf and i am rotating it more now

[zainclaw]

he's literally crying!!! like i am still not over the heartwrenching breakdown in the bedroom scene how am i supposed to be fine coming week! and it's not only eddie but the pain of chim who already has lost a brother en maddie who lost her other brother already and bobby who's already lost a son and aaaaaa (also hey it's been some time but it's me ✨ anon!)

Starry Anon, it's so good to see you again ❤️ I'm sorry for the late response, I've just been busy!! But, yeah, jesus christ, the parallels of Buck/everyone was so beautifully done and haunting, oh my god. This past episode was a fucking masterpiece.

[theinkedfoxsl]

wishing I could hold ur hand

-starry

i have really clammy hands tbh ):

[salamispots]

squid 👀

[coldwayhome]

lover with percy jackson 😋

౨ৎ ⋆˚ DARLING, YOU'RE MY LOVER!

☆ LOVER: send a character and i'll give you a few romantic hcs!

— okay first off you seem silly, which is percy's favorite thing about you

— your energy was what drew percy to you in the first place!

— the two of you like to goof around a lot, lightheartedly making fun of each other.

— of course that's not the entire dynamic though

— you both know how to be serious when the time calls for it

— (it doesn't help that you both laugh when chiron yells at you guys though...)

— you guys are just the perfect pair, and everyone around camp can tell! a lot of campers tend to envy your relationship.

— it's kind of a "you bagged her??" "you bagged him??" situation, with both parties irrevocably happy with the dynamic.

— anyways

— you guys are the IT COUPLE. heads turn when you walk by, walking separately or together. any news about your relationship is the hottest gossip at camp half blood. everybody wants to be in the know.

— your relationship encompasses the energy of summer. your relationship is fun for both of you, trying new things and laughing everyday.

— you both help each other train, percy giving you pointers with swordsmanship, and you helping percy with your best ability.

— everyone can tell you love each other and it is the cutest thing ever 🤍

ahh i hope this was okay anon!! not my best work but i hope you like it <33 feel free to request more !!

[starmonsterrr]

[ * Hi guys i'm still cringe btw. Me and the boyfriend and husband (gender neutral) (yes he is both at the same time) :3 ]

[fromdarzaitoleeza]

i wonder if they would forgive me for everything i forgave them for

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

I wonder if they ever think about me at all.

[last-starry-sky]

Simon constantly teases you about how short/small you are. It upsets you, makes you feel singled out, weak, incompetent. Turns out he’s just dying to know how well you can fit him, how big his cock would look next to your hands and feet. Won’t shut up about it during sex either. A dash of mean Simon + his untapped size kink

eeeeee im gonnafuckining explode OKAY FOR REAL I WAS DYING WHEN I SAW THIS. thank u, beautiful, patient anon, for blessing me with this prompt!! I hope I did it justice!

ghost x petite!f!military!reader

(MDNI - NSFW uhhhh grossly inaccurate military stuff, creeper, bully simon :), i’m using “petite” as in “shorter and smaller than the average woman” trying to keep everything as open and vague as possible, oral, deep throating, ghost has a raging size kink, unprotected piv, also this is LONG (5.6k) 💀 i'm sorry!!! skip to the end for smut if that's all you want!❤️) 

It’s been the same fucking comments from your lieutenant all week. Day in, day out and it’s starting to wear a sore spot into your hardened skin. 

“Muzzle up. Arms tired already? ‘s a big rifle for someone your size to carry.”

“Keep pace with the group. Your short legs aren’t their problem.”

“Shoulders back! Chest out! Some’ve y’ need all the height you can get!”

All you can do is grit out a “yes, sir” or “no, sir” and push yourself even harder to keep up with the taller and stronger men and women around you. The massive Brit in charge is running your training group. While you expected this to be hard (your CO hadn’t been mincing words when he pitched it as “advanced”) but you never expected this. 

First of all, from the very beginning, he seemed to have a problem with you. Only you. There were a handful of women in the group, but you were unfortunately the shortest and smallest. Not that it bothered you. You’d spent your whole life this size. You were used to it. It was everyone else, especially the wanna-be, alpha males that flocked to the military like flies, that gave you grief over it.

The second you all lined up off the transport, you could feel his eyes on you. You tried not to stare back while the other Brit, Captain Price, gave a short introductory talk. You hadn’t heard a word of it. He stood there, flanking the captain, in a black, skin tight t shirt, with his obscenely muscled arms crossed over his ridiculously broad chest. A buzzing filled your ears as his black eyes bored into you. His stare so hot and heavy it made you sweat. His eyes were all of his face that he left uncovered, the rest was hidden by a skull mask and balaclava. You tried to ignore him, but you swore you saw the ink on his arm flexing as the captain introduced him: Lt. Ghost.

From the first training exercise, a simple one on one spar, he pulled you of all people from the women’s group to demonstrate on. What could you do? Refuse? He had at least a foot and close to one hundred pounds of muscle on you. You tried not to shake as you squared up at the opposite end of the mat. 

He told you to rush him, to “show him what you got”. Well, you tried. Once he gave signal to start, all you could do was try to fake him out. You ran at him before quickly darting to the side, trying to get behind him using your short stature to your advantage. Unfortunately for you, he was crazy agile for a large guy. He pivoted on his foot, watching you as you tried to fade to his left. You steeled yourself when he caged you in his arms, sweeping your feet off the mat. Your world was a blur until he slammed you roughly down onto the mat. Your breath was knocked from you, your vision spinning. You heard the crowd around you let out a collective “OH”. It took you a moment to realize he had you pinned. Your legs and hands held painfully down with his own. 

“‘sat all y’ got? Givin’ up already?” he grunted out with a gravely laugh while he stared down at you. He leaned down until his chest was pressed to yours, that stupid mask just grazing your face. “Or y’ got some fight left in y’? 

Hell yeah you still had some fight in you. You managed to slip out one leg from under him, jamming your knee quickly into his side. A kidney hit was dirty, you knew that. You wouldn’t dream of doing it in a normal spar, against an evenly matched partner, but he deserved it for picking on you; for picking a woman when he could have easily dominated any of the men in the room. He reacted exactly as you expected: crumpling forward in pain. You didn’t waste a second pulling your hands and legs from his grip. Another cry rang out from the crowd when you rolled out from under him, ready to jump on his back and make the pin.

“Olright, olright,” he said rubbing at his side, sitting up with a grunt before you could pin him. “I yield, y’ cheatin’ lil’ git. Next up.” 

He pointed at one of the other soldiers to come forward and take your place. The man gave you a fist bump as you left the mat and you told him “good luck”. You knew he would need it. When you turned around you saw that Ghost’s gaze had never left you. 

-

You walked back to base on Friday with your blood boiling, failure weighing heavy on your psyche after a long, hot afternoon of sniper training. You had given all you could; had put up with extra hard, extra long training, with comment after comment about your size and strength. 

Shorty. Shrimp. Rifle looks like it weights more than you. Gonna manage that?

Up early, in late everyday, almost too tired to eat and shower by the end. You had a mind to march right into Price’s office and tell him you were leaving that night. You’d made it a week, that was good enough for you. You would rather face hell from your CO back home than endure another hour of this. The second you sat down on your bunk, however, you passed out.

The exhaustion must have snapped something in your brain. You woke up a few hours later groggy and sweaty, your bunk mate snoring away. You were half on your bed with your feet still in your boots. You rolled onto your back with a groan, wiping the dried tears and dust from your cheeks. 

You let your weak arms fall over your face. You felt pathetic. You honestly wanted to just lay on your thin mattress and cry in the dark until the day started. Another day of enduring that British cunt with a superiority complex calling you short and weak, of singling you out in front of your peers, of making you question your career up to this point. He was eroding the very core of your person at this point, and you didn’t know how much long you could take it. 

You let out a sigh and, with more than a little effort, pull your sore, battered body out of bed. What you really needed was to shower, to think this out, and then find Captain Price to talk. No good would come from rushing into a decision in this state. 

You enjoyed your shower. It was nice to have all of the hot water and the whole communal space to yourself. You took your time getting dressed back into your rumbled clothes in the empty locker room. Nothing but the sound of dripping water echoing off the tile around you. 

Leaving the showers, you looked up and down the bare corridors, only enough of the overhead fluorescents left on to avoid a safety hazard. Your hair dripped onto your shoulders while you stood in the center of the hall. Price’s office had to be somewhere around here.

You wandered out of the barracks, down hall after hall of the same, painted block walls and plain tile floors, until you started seeing name plates posted haphazardly on the wooden doors. Your eyes wandered from door to door until you found what you were looking for: a sheet of 8.5x11 paper taped crookedly outside an office with Cpt. Price scrawled across the middle.

You let out a sigh of relief as you brought up your hand to knock on the door. It was almost over. The captain seemed like a reasonable man. He would surely be willing to listen to you, maybe give you some sound advice on whether you were actually cut out for this level of training. Before your hand could land on the door, a gloved hand came out from the shadows of the hall in front of you to rest above yours.

“What’re you doin’ here?” he whispered harshly.

You didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. You closed your eyes in annoyance, balling your hands at your sides. Of fucking course he was here. Right at the last hurdle. Right before you could seek relief from a superior, his superior too. You let out a long breath through your nose before you opened your eyes to face him.

“I came to talk to Captain-” you started speaking with a wavering voice before he cut you off.

“Not in. Not yet, at least. Had a long night.” 

He leaned against the door, starting down at you again. God, he fucking annoyed you. You’d never had a CO that frayed at your nerves like he did. How dare he come off so cool, gripping his oversized biceps with his stupid skeleton gloves. 

You stepped back from the door. “I’ll come back when he’s in then. Sorry-”

“Can help you if you need somethin’” he interrupted you again, casually canting his hips forward, moving his hand to the door handle. 

You shook you head. While you really wanted to give him a piece of your mind, you would prefer not ending this with a disciplinary, so you bit your tongue. 

“I don’t need anything from you,” you answered with just a bit of venom.

He heard it, you were sure of it. He clicked the door open, letting it fall open to reveal the dark room inside. 

“No. I think you do, small-stuff.” When you didn’t make a move, just let another angry breath out your nose and furrow your brow deeper, he shifted to the side and pointed inside the room. “In. Now. That’s an order.”

You clenched your teeth and did as you were told. Not that you had an option now. 

-

You walked up to the desk at the back of the room. Price sure did keep his office in a state. Papers and folders were piled across his desk. A landline phone and old desktop computer were shoved to either corner of the desk. More folders and binders piled over the keyboard and hid the keypad of the phone. You heard Ghost’s boots squeak lightly on the tile behind you, then the door shut with a click. Another, soft click followed. He flipped the light switch, illuminating the spot right above you with hazy, yellow light. 

You turned to face the man who’d gone out of his way to made himself your nemesis for the past week. He silently sauntered up to you, stopping behind one of the chairs in front of the desk. You crossed your arms defensively over your chest and tried to make your face placid while he pulled the chair out. He took a seat, well, he tried too. He could barely fit his massive fame in the little chair. It groaned underneath him as he mirrored your pose, arms crossed and legs spread. 

You sat silently staring at each other before he asked, “Well?” with a roll of his shoulders. 

You picked over your words, trying to detangle everything you had thought up in the shower. Ghost bouncing his knee pulled you back to reality. It was like the threatening hiss of a rattlesnake's tail. Better to just get it out than keep him waiting.

“Do you have a problem with me?” you squeaked out, eyes on you boots. The direct route it was, then. 

“What?” he asked, confused.

You looked up at him, exhausted, eyes pleading. “Look, I know I’m short and not as strong as the other guys . . . especially the guys, but the way you talk to me-”

“Don’t have a problem with y’,” he said throwing his arm across the back of the chair, readjusting while he raked his eyes up and down your frumpy form. Probably looking for something to complain about. “If’m bein’ honest-” he started before cutting himself off and turning his head. 

You uncrossed your arms, letting them fall to your sides. “What . . .” you questioned, gesturing with your hands in front of you. “Then why do you-”

He jiggled his knee a few more times before turning back to face you. “Little thing like you,” he said darkly, so deep and low you almost didn’t hear it. He clenched his fingers on his pants as he cleared his throat. “You keep up with the rest’ve ‘em well enough. Ain’t got a problem.”

“Little thing,” you whispered, repeating him sarcastically. 

Ghost groaned at that. Honest to god groaned in front of you, sending a shiver up your spine. You froze as his heavy eyes found their way back to you. 

“Yeah. You sure are,” he said scraping his fingers down his pants. “Spunky, too. Used t’ fightin’ for your place. Like that. Makes me wonder-” he trailed off as his large eyes wandered down from your face to your chest. 

You were shocked. No way. You had to be misinterpreting this. Maybe you were still sunstroked from yesterday, because there was no way you were reading him correctly. 

“Wonder what?” you piped, blush pinching at your cheeks.

“Wonder . . .” he said rocking his head back and forth, trying to tie a sentence together. “Wonder if y’ can be sweet, too.” He let you stew in wide-eyed disbelief for a moment as he gestured at you. “Wonder what you look like underneath all that.” Your stomach clenched as he tilted his hips forward, spreading his legs wider, to palm is cock through his pants. “Wonder if it matches what I’ve imagined.”

You would be lying if it was just your stomach clenching after that shameless display.

It was crazy how it all made sense now. The constant attention. The names. You thought he was being overly hard on you, picking at you, trying to get you to drop out. You rubbed a hand over your heated face. He was a grown man (a large one, too) that was acting like a little boy with a worm on a stick, chasing the girl he liked around the playground. You thought he hated you and all this time he was actually getting off to you. You felt like an absolute moron. 

“Doesn’t have t’ leave this room. If you’re interested,” he said in that deep gravel, still trying to keep himself together. 

You let him sit in silence for a long, tortuous, moment. 

“And if I’m not?” you finally asked. 

He nodded to the door behind him with his head. “Then leave. Talk t’ Price in the morning. No harm.”

“No foul,” you finished his phrase, running your fingers over your bottom lip. 

Silence hung between you for a hot moment in the cold, stale air of the office. You had a hard time believing he would just let you go at this point. Not that you planned to, the danger intrigued you too much to walk away. This line of work had made you a wholly different animal, it’s why you were here. You ran into war zones, battlefields, hostage negotiations, the places others couldn’t run out of fast enough. You’d been dealing with the people that most couldn’t stomach, the ones that couldn’t function in civilian society, for so long that they had worn a place under your skin. This lieutenant, Ghost, he had been in this just as long, if not longer, than you. He had to feel the same. Fuck, he had be worse.     

“What . . . what do you want?” you finally managed to ramble out. 

He let out a rough hum of satisfaction. You hated how you responded to it. You rolled your thighs together and, fuck, you were wet. You let out a small, shuddering breath. You’d gone a week with no praise, no kindness, and now here he was, the big, bully Brit who’d made your life hell practically purring over you. 

He trained his hungry eyes on you and motioned up with a flick of his fingers. “Wanna see ‘em. Don’t even have’t take your shirt off.”

A part of you wondered if this was all a trick as you slowly rucked your t shirt up to expose your stomach. That would track with how your week had gone so far. He was so blatant and open though, gripping the chair beneath him like he was about to launch out of it at a moment’s notice. He groaned as you pulled your shirt up to reveal your plain black sports bra. It was nothing special, standard issue, but it kept you strapped down. Not that you really had all that much to contain. 

He ran his hand over (what you assumed) was his mouth under the balaclava. He waited a moment for you to continue before urging you forward. 

“Come on, love. Don’t get shy. Wanna see ‘em.”

You slipped your fingers underneath the wide band at the bottom, hesitating only a moment before you pulled everything, shirt included, up over your head. You stared down at your chest while you balled your clothes in your hands.

“Not much to see,” you whispered, watching your nipples perk and skin pucker under the AC.

“Fuckin’ hell” was all he said. You dared to look up. “Fuck,” he continued, “Fuckin’ . . . get over’ere. Just fuckin’ dyin’ t’ get my hands on you.”

You dropped your clothes on the floor, closing the few steps between you quickly before falling forward into his grasp. You weren’t sure if you were ready for what this desperate, mountain of a man was about to unleash on you, but fuck did it excite you. Once he had you between his legs, gloved hands scraping up your back and around your waist, testing his fingers as he held you, but he didn’t do anything but look. He stared at you like you were made of glass. 

You stared at him, too. You hadn’t been this close since he’d pinned you on the first day, and you were pretty sure you’d been half-concussed then. You could see where he had eye black painted carefully around his eyes to fill the holes in his mask. You could see his long eyelashes, clumped together with that same oily black paint. It made the whites of his eyes stand out vibrantly. His large dark irises darted back and forth over your chest. You wondered what he was planning, what he was thinking. 

He didn’t leave you wondering for long. He pressed you forward, mouthing at your nipple through the mask. You let out a short whine, pussy clenching as his large hands kneaded at your waist. The feeling was like nothing you’d felt before. The fabric between you muted the translation between his actions and your pleasure. You could feel how eagerly he bit and sucked at you, but you were denied half of it. It made you dig your fingers into his shoulders in frustration.

“Want more?” he said haggardly, pulling off of you. He tugged at your belt, not waiting for an answer. “Then get these off.”

You did your best to undo your belt and pants despite your shaking and moaning while he dove back in, working harder at your other nipple. Once you’d dropped your pants down to your ankles he pulled you forward to step out of them, wedging you into the spread of his legs. You toed out of your shoes and then he kicked everything behind you, your boots banging loudly against the steel desk. You heard papers shift and fall, but couldn’t find a reason to care. He held you, running his gloved hands over your exposed skin while you shivered in font of him in nothing but your panties. 

He palmed his cock again before fumbling around to find his belt. You heard him click it open, the metal jangling as it went slack. 

“On your knees,” he ordered breathlessly. “Wan’ see what that little mouth can do with this.” 

You complied immediately, viciously curious as to what he was packing. If the tent in his pants was any indication, you had your work cut out for you. He popped open the button of his fly and then slowly unzipped. You couldn’t see anymore through his briefs than you had in his pants, but still, you leaned forward. You curled your hands on your knees, biting your lip, willing him to give you permission. 

“Go ahead,” he said giving himself one lazy, squeezing pump.

You put your hands on his inner thighs, right above his knees, testing the waters. When he didn’t say anything, you slid your hands up his legs, a soft, swishing sound following. You stopped at his crotch, pulling yourself forward before tentatively, gently, smoothing up his clothed cock. 

He groaned, covering your hand with his, forcing you to grip his girth. Your thumb just barely met your ring finger. 

“Fuckin’-” was all he could get out before pulling your hand off. 

He used his other hand to pull his dick out before pressing your hand to his hard, burning length. You gave him another pump, feeling how the skin stretched beneath your hand, then squeezing to feel how goddamn rigid he was. The tip of his cock made your mouth water. 

It was crazy. On you knees in front of him like this, you weren’t a competent soldier, a woman who held herself with poise and respect in front of her colleagues. He wasn’t an expertly trained, battle-hardened, special operative of the British Army. You were both human. Both hungry. 

You tipped his cock toward you to lap at the underside of the head. You met his eyes just as you closed your mouth around him, sucking the salt from his slit. He shut his eyes with a groan, letting his head fall back for a moment as he reached his hand up to grip at your skull. He opened his eyes to watch as he slowly bobbed your head down his cock. 

He gripped himself at the base, forcing your mouth to take him until you met his fingers. You did. Just barely, gagging as his head slid against the roof of your mouth to the soft palate at the back of your throat. He didn’t let you pull back. Instead, he traced the inside of your lips with his thumb, drool coating his black gloves.

“Lookit’ that,” he groaned as your throat pulsed and burned around him. “Little thing takes it all s’fuckin’ well.”

He let go of your head, letting you pull off of his cock. You stared at it with heavy eyes as your head spun from lack of oxygen, it glistened with your spit in the harsh light. He gave himself another languid stroke, watching you force air into your lungs while you sat practically naked on the floor between his knees. 

“Think you can take it in that little cunt a’yours like that?” he asked, stopping his stroke at the head.

You bit your bottom lip as you looked up at him. You gave him a slow nod. Any fear or paranoia you had before was long evaporated. You were wet, horny, needy. You needed him to give you something, and if he was going to give you a choice, you could do worse than getting railed until you couldn’t remember your name. You clenched, hands clawing at your thighs, as you watched him pump another stroke up that monster cock of his in front of your face before grunting out his order.

“Get up then. Against the desk.”

You scrambled up to your feet. He followed you, rising quickly from his chair to tower over you, pressing you backwards into the steel desk. Your hands reached out for purchase as he roughly gripped your thighs, throwing you on top of Price’s paper-laden desk. Folders and binders clattered to the floor, papers swirling across the tile as he shoved you down, ass right on the edge. 

He stood between your legs, hips flush to yours, his cock laying across your standard issue panties like a weapon. He pressed the weight of it against your skin with a groan, head spreading precum into your stomach. Quicker than you realized, he reached behind his back, coming back with a knife. It was almost invisible palmed in his large hand, only the tip of the blade winked from the tip of his thumb. With two quick flicks, he cut up the side of your underwear. He slid the knife back to wherever he had taken it from, like it was the most normal thing in the world, before pulling the now useless scrap of fabric from between the press of your bodies. 

He held the scrap of fabric in his hand for a minute, investigating it under the light before tossing it to the floor.

“Really are beggin’ for it, eh?” He said sliding his cock up the seam of your pussy. His easy, fluid movements as he rocked against you answered for you. “Fuckin’ wet just from that?”

You nodded, lacing your legs around his hips, trying to pull him closer. He pressed his hand into your stomach in response, squishing you against the desk hard enough to make you squirm. He pulled away enough to notch the head of his cock at your entrance.

“Needy little fuckin’ thing,” he said with a punch of his hips, nails biting into the soft skin of your stomach as his tip danced perilously on the edge of holding inside you. “Want it so fuckin’ bad? Want this inside y’?” 

He took himself in hand and watched as he pushed inside. You both groaned. You let your head fall against the desk with a dull thunk, eyes shut and legs shaking as he pushed deeper and deeper inside your slick hole. 

“Fuck.” He was breathless for the first time since you had met him. “Fuck are y’ tight. So fuckin’ small. Even gonna fit it all?” He rambled to himself as he took hold of your hips and watched himself fuck slowly in and out of you; hypnotized by the clutch of your greedy pussy pulling him in, resisting as he pulled out. 

You let out a small cry of frustration, tears pricking around your eyes. He was big, but that wasn’t the problem. You had taken your share of dick, you could take him. It was killing you how slow he was. He was lost in his own world, watching his cock slid in and out of you as you lay there silently begging for him to just fuck you already. 

“Quiet,” he whispered with a half-hearted harshness, hand trailing down to your pussy. 

You almost jumped as he began to rub a wide circle around your clit. Your slick barely dulled the rough texture of his glove. You shuddered, clenching around him, whining as he found a rhythm with his thumb and cock. Your clench punched the breath out of him. He fell over you, bracing himself with his arm. You could hear the hollow sound of his breaths behind his mask as he gave up trying to pump into your vice of a pussy. 

He nuzzled the cold plastic of his mask against your ear. “Not gonna’ last long doin’ shit like that,” he grumbled. He held himself up, pulling your face to look at him with a hand under your jaw. “Wha’d’y want?” 

You stared back at him with confusion. 

“Where d’y want it?” he clarified.

If you had a brain cell still functioning, you would have told him to pull out. It was the safer of the options he was giving you. 

But you didn’t. You moaned out, “Fuck. Inside me. Please,” like the absolute whore you had become once he’d whipped his cock out. 

Not one to question, apparently, Ghost was back in position the moment he heard you. He pulled your hips back to meet his, cock punching all the way in until you winced as the head hit your cervix. He took hold of one of your legs, hand running up the length of it, positioning it until it lay unfolded up his chest. He gripped his fingers around your ankle, starting at it as his other hand squeezed your waist.

“Lookit, fuck. Lookit that,” he said as he pistoned into you. You cut off the loud moan that he punched out of you. The change in angle was . . god it was like nothing you’d had before.  

“Like that?” he said, letting your foot dangle on his shoulder while he held your waist with both hands, driving into you mercilessly. 

If you could have answered, you would have spoke truthfully. You were sure. You would have moaned about how good it was, how he was so big and filled you so well. As it was, his powerful thrusts jarred you against the cool metal of the desk too much to do anything more than moan and hold on as more papers flooded the floor. 

“Got y’self off at all this week?” he asked, panting breathlessly.

You shook your head, a small whine of anticipation falling form your lips at the thought.

“Gonna nut just thinkin’ about you cummin’ on my cock,” he mumbled, trailing his hand back to your clit.

You let out a sad whine, bucking into his thrust as he touched you. You were close. So fucking close.

He began to circle your clit like before, finding that delicious rhythm with the pound of his hips that pulled you higher and higher, tighter and tighter, until dazzling sparks lit up your core. You reeled back with a cry, clenching his cock, arching as he worked you through your peak. 

His hand ripped away from you sooner than you’d like. He fell over you, both hands biting into the skin of your hips as he pounded into you as your pussy pulsed, any semblance of cadence or love-making gone as he chased his own high. You dug your fingers into his t shirt. The sweat drenched fabric was almost too slippery to hold on to. 

“Fuck! Too fuckin’ hot ‘n, fuck, tight. Fuck, ‘m gonna-” His weak series of sighs and groans, followed by the distinct feeling of his cock flaring inside you told you what he couldn’t.

He lay over you for a moment, panting as you both caught your breaths. You wondered if he was also stewing in the monumental realization of what the fuck you had both just done. You’d just broken so many rules. So much was at stake. He’d just cum inside a subordinate on his bosses desk, and you didn’t work for the same country. This was going to be a mess. You were sure of it. 

He pulled away from you, pulling himself out with a smothered whine. You crossed your hands over your middle as you watch him zip back up and adjust his mask. It was wild how he was back to normal within seconds. You half expected him to walk out the door and just leave you here like this. At least all of your clothes were here, save your sliced up panties. 

But he didn’t leave. He held out a hand to you, only letting you stare at it dumbly for a minute before he flicked his fingers toward himself, urging you to act. You took his hand and he pulled you up easily. He even let you slump against him after you sat up. You’d forgotten how tired a good lay made you.

Again, you expected him to leave you now that you were conscious and able to dress yourself, maybe leave you with a heavy warning (read: threat) to not talk about this. As you tried to shuffle to the side to try and get off the desk, he stopped you. His hands gripped both of your shoulders suddenly.

“The fuck y’ doin’?” he said, forcing you back in front of him.  

“Getting . . . dressed?” you answered with unease. 

“Funny,” he said with a single, dry, laugh. “You’re a funny lil’ thing, too.”

His hands skimmed down your sides before quickly seizing you by the hips, throwing you over his shoulder like a backpack. You gasped as your stomach landed on his solid shoulder, punching the air from your lungs.

“Think we’re done already?” he said, turning around. 

You watched as the desk, and the messy you had made on and around it, including your scattered clothing, circled back into view, then slipped away. He palmed a whole cheek of your ass in one hand, spreading you open enough for cold air to chill your leaking core, as he stalked toward the door. He probed a finger into your pussy, swirling the cum you felt leaking out across your folds. 

“Got a whole day off, y’know,” he said matter-of-factly as he opened the door. Completely ignoring that he had a naked woman slung over his shoulder like a caveman. “Think we should go back to mine. Relax. See what else that little cunt’ve yours can take.”

[solarballs-confessions]

jupitune. that's it. that's the confession

-starry anon

.

[starflungwaddledee]

Oooo starstruck dee has little stars at the bottom of her feet! Are they just aesthetic or would they make imprints into the ground? (like pawprints)

exactly like that! though she's not the only one...

edit: might need to add some additional dialogue to this to make it more clear, but a clarification in the interim; he knows about his own footprints. he's just surprised to see something similar already there when he knows he's only just landed. he lifts his own shoe to confirm that they're not identical (and also to reveal this to the viewer). seems his stoicism beat off the clarity in this one, sorry 😭

[starryiguess]

Dan Heng reacting to you snooping around his book thing cuz he’s such a big nerd

Warning: Possible OOC Dan Heng, very fluffy and delulu, and nerding

Dan Heng x GN!Reader

If Dan Heng found you snooping around in his books, three things might happen:

★ Scolding because why were you snooping?! You could’ve asked him!

★ Flattery because you show interest.

★ And possibly embarrassment depending on what you found.

Or maybe all 3 will happen!

There’s not a lot of people who are interested in his books, so he would definitely explain to you what the topic is and the nitty-gritty details. Seeing him in focus and him being able to geek out is the most beautiful sight to behold.

If you found his journal, uhh well, you weren’t supposed to see that just yet. Or really at all. He would totally write love letters or poems to you secretly because he can’t express his true feelings to you verbally! It needs to be on pen & paper. He does express his love through small, subtle actions.

Dan Heng gently pulls your hair to the side as you work, or maybe he puts a snack or drink on the desk to show his appreciation. Dan Heng would definitely represent acts of service.

Apologies for going off-topic, but that’s what I think he would do if you looked through his books! (≧◡≦)

[starry-night-author]

I just found your blog and I LOVE your writing! Can I request a Hero that gets kidnapped by a yandere Villain???

Teeheee a classic :3 thank you!!!!

Prompt #22

Hero had to try their hardest not to cry as they were the one who had to pay for dinner. Taking the card back from the waiter and picking up their boxed-up leftovers they stood, tucking their chair back beneath the table. Trying to keep their eyes off the chair opposite them, the one that Superhero hadn't even bothered to push in.

Should they push it back in? If they didn't, the restaurant employees would have to.

Sighing, they walked over and pushed Superhero's empty seat back beneath the table.

Hero managed to keep in their tears as they walked through the restaurant, but once they reached the chilly night air, they couldn't cram their sobs down any longer. They let their tears run down their face to drip into their scarf as they pulled out their phone to arrange for someone to come pick them up.

Hero and Superhero had only been dating for a few months, but breakups always hurt. Especially ones that had come out of nowhere. Superhero had been gentle with them, saying they could still be friends and they would be happy to see them at work on Monday- but they'd still left as soon as they were done, leaving Hero halfway through their spaghetti and to pay for both of their meals.

The crime-stopper hadn't had the appetite to finish their dinner, and had only waited until they were sure Superhero was gone before boxing it up and leaving.

Out here in the cold, alone, Hero felt oddly weightless. Detached. Drifting into space.

"Alone on a Friday night? God, you're pathetic."

Hero jumped, looking up. "W-what?"

Someone slipped from the shadows next to the building, cast by the bright streetlights from above. It took Hero a moment to recognize them, but once they did, they were quickly wiping away their tears and hoping the newcomer hadn't noticed. "Villain! What are you doing here?"

The villain grinned, showing startlingly white teeth that almost seemed to glow in the dark night. Their smile looked stretched, forced. "Got stood up."

"Oh," Hero sighed. "Mine at least actually showed up."

"And yet you're alone?"

"And yet I'm alone." They looked back down at their phone. "Superhero was my ride, too."

A hand on their arm, Hero jumped. They hadn't heard Villain get that close.

The criminal's voice was quiet, dangerously smooth. "I've got a car, I can take you home."

Hero offered them a hesitant smile. "I-I'll be alright."

"Oh, come on, Hero! We're both off duty, and you know me. You don't even have to give me your exact address if you don't want to, I'll drop you wherever you need." They pressed closer, breath pluming in the cold night and their voice a purr. "You should really get out of this cold."

Hero sighed. They were miserable, they didn't want to think, to have to take care of themself. They just wanted to get home as soon as possible so they could cry. "Alright."

They let Villain lead them over to their shiny dark car, parked beneath one of the street lamps. Moths and mosquitoes whizzed in front of the light, casting strange moving shadows down on the road. They sat in the passenger's seat, and Villain offered them the GPS as soon as they were settled. "Put your address in there," they prompted.

Hero chose a street a few blocks from theirs, not wanting to let their enemy know exactly where they lived. Villain accepted the GPS back without a word, turning the car on and pulling smoothly out of the parking lot.

"So," Villain started as they turned onto the main highway that ran throughout the city. "How's your week been?"

"Fine," Hero sighed, leaning against the window. "Until today."

"What happened?" The criminal glanced at them. "If you're alright with saying."

Hero gave a brief overview of their relationship with Superhero and of their date tonight, and Villain frowned sympathetically. "I'm sorry. They don't know what they're losing."

Hero smiled faintly, wiping at their freshly wet eyes. "Thanks. What about you?"

"There's tissues in the glove compartment if you need any. Mine at least was a first date, this would've been my first time meeting them in person." Villain shrugged, then cast a sly glance at them. "What are the odds we both ended up ditched by our dates on the same night at the same place?"

Hero had already blown their nose, they were using the tissue to wipe their eyes again when they hesitated. What were the odds of that? "You weren't following me, were you?" It was only half a joke.

"Hm? Oh, no. I've got too many things to do to be following little heroes around." Their tone was teasing. "Don't flatter yourself."

Nerves slightly quelled, Hero leaned back in their seat. "Well, at least I can have the leftovers for lunch tomorrow or something."

Street lamps whizzed by overhead, casting beams of light in the car that sped by quickly. The scenery outside was a blur to Hero, they were too lost in their surprise and sadness to register much of it. Villain seemed to know where they were going though, so they didn't bother themself with it. The criminal hadn't replied to their point, allowing a lull in the conversation to give Hero a moment to zone out. Their earlier odd weightlessness having time to return.

It took them a moment to come back to themself. "Oh, thanks for the ride."

"Of course," Villain smiled, eyes still on the dark road. "It'd be against my morals not to help you out."

It was true, despite their ruthless reputation, Villain had always been quite nice to the hero. Though the most they'd ever interacted before this was once when Hero had been on an assignment to destroy a weapon Villain had made, the criminal had seemed quite understanding about the destruction and had even slipped Hero some bandages for the cut they'd accidentally given them. It was part of why Hero had accepted help from their nemesis, this amount of generosity wasn't unusual from them. They were oddly trustworthy in that regard.

That being said, the rumors circulating about Villain went entirely against that. According to the whispers, they were a terribly malicious, cruel, and downright hurtful. They mistreated their henchmen. They'd killed their last assigned hero. They didn't care about the civilian lives their schemes cost, in fact, they went out of their way to cause them.

But surely, seeing Villain now, those had to be false. Or possibly exaggerations, spread by Villain themself to keep other villain's with messing with them. That wasn't unheard of, in fact, Hero could think of several past villains who had done the same thing.

"So, what will you do without Superhero?" Villain picked up the conversation. "Is it too soon to ask if you will want to start dating again?"

"Why, you asking me out?" Hero joked. Villain's kindness warmed their sadness, already making them feel a little better. "No, not really. I don't want to be single, but I don't want to go through the whole process of meeting someone new."

"I hear that," Villain sighed. "You could always try sparking something with someone you already know."

Hero shook their head. "I feel like all my friends are just that. Friends. And there's not many people outside of that I know very well."

"What about enemies?" Villain teased.

The crime-stopper laughed, going along with the joke. "Oh sure, let me just call up the list of villains I'm supposed to bring in by next week."

"Am I on that list?"

Knowing it was a joke Hero laughed again, shaking their head and sitting back in their chair. Villain really did know how to cheer them up, they were glad they'd gone with them tonight. "Don't know, I'll have to look through it."

"Write mine at the bottom if I'm not there, why don't you?"

Hero snorted, their laughter subsiding as they leaned against the window. "Yeah, well, it's probably too soon anyway. I liked Superhero, I don't know if I can get used to someone else so soon."

"Hm." Villain looked back at the road, letting out a breath.

Hero sat up, tapping the window. "Oh, hey, I think you missed the turn, my place is that way?" Maybe they were taking a different route?

"We're not going back to your place."

"W-what?" Hero blinked.

Villain's gaze was hard set as they glared out the windshield, their expression suddenly much more serious than Hero had seen it all night. "We're not going back to your place." They repeated.

Hero was beginning to panic, their earlier contentedness slipping away like the rushing objects outside. "W-why?"

"Because if no one out there can treat you right, then they don't get to have you."