#and yet! and yet!!! i am forced to do it!!!!! stop it!!!!!!!!!!

[oreo-creampies]

𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Daddy/mama/brat etc…., overstimulation, breeding/creampie, riding, wall sex, full Nelson, mirror sex, praise/degradation, some mind break/dumbification, mention of a belly bulge (from satoru’s cum and cock), begging, possessive, size kink, squirting, knife play (no blood or cutting)

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 my pussy ✨

𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨

Lining Kento up with your sensitive wet little hole. Losing your mind over how thick he is. Too big for your fingers to touch. “My hungry little cock sleeve missed me this much? Barely letting me take my clothes off before your licking the sweat off my cock and trying to take me in your soaking wet cunt.” Messaging your cheeks with his large rough warm hand. Holding your hip, slowly swiping his thumb in small circles.

You can’t get enough of how it feels to be touched by Kento Nanami. His touch is firm, gentle, warm, comforting and exhilarating. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout you non stop daddy!” The pinch in his brow smoothes, a lazy smirk tugging on his slips.

Tightening his grasp on your hip, his thick fingers sinking in your hip’s squishy crease. Kento roughly sliding you down on his fat, veiny cock. “Who am I?” Roughly smacking your ass, once, twice, your cunt clenching on the third.

Firmly grabbing your hips, guiding your tight hot cunt on his cock. Sliding your hand down his rock hard, cheilsted chest. Sinking your nails into his abs when he flexes, the lines deepening. “Tell me or I'm stopping, who’s fucking your tight cunt into a sloppy mess?”

You whine, “Daaaadddy isss! Daddy’s fat cock is stretching my cunt out, reaching so deep. I can feel your veins pulse, the shape of your head, nnnn you’re so deep! Right there daddy please keep bouncing me on your cock! You’re so strong!” Wrapping your arms around Kento when he stands.

Softly tugging on his soft blond hair, scratching his freckled backside. “You’ve been such a beautiful house wife, it due time I make you a mama.” Your cunt throbs, fluttering around him at the thought.

Needing one arm to hold you up, he wraps grabs a handful of your hair. Pulling your head back, looking up into his beautiful face, relaxed in pussy drunken bliss. He croon, “Am I your big strong daddy? Does my beautiful mama love it when I fuck her like a slut?”

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

You’re helpless in his firm grasp, your legs pinned by your sides by his muscular arms. Toji’s large hands are clasped behind your head forcing you to look into the vanity mirror. “Look at ya sloppy little cunt, it was so small now it's taking my monster cock like it’s made for it.”

His cock always looks too big to fit, yet your soft squishy cunt takes him perfectly every time. You’re split open in a perfect circle, your puffy lips dragging along his cock when he pulls out. His heavy balls bouncing with each thrusts memorizing.

He gruffily demands, “Who’s slut are are you?” Your cunt flutters around his cock, spasming, gushing thick cum. Squirting all over his bed, some of your slick trickling down soaking his cum filled balls.

His cock head hitting your already aching bruised cervix threatening to do deeper. Could he? Loudly moaning, “Daddy’s! I'm daddy’s slut! Please! Please cum!” He groans, his fat cock’s veins throbbing.

He glides his cock out, “Fuck! Ya daddy’s little slut huh? Keep talkin’ like that and ya gonna make me cum too quickly. N’ after I made sure to jerk off with your panties so I can last longer in your lil super soaker.” Effortlessly sitting up, easing you out of the full Nelson. Holding you up, lining his cock up, gliding himself into your soft, squishy cunt.

Curling your toes, eyes rolling back, jaw dropping. “Too much! Please don't stop wanna be a good girl for Daddy! Please! Cum! Daddy! Please! Cum daaaaadddy!” Attempting to wiggle off Toji’s thick cock, your attempts are a pathetic shifting of your hips.

Toji stands up, fucking his thick, veiny cock into you harder. “Damanding little brat, after I cum I’m taping a vibator to your clit so I can smoke n’ have a drink watchin’ you whine and cum till your lil cunt breaks.” Tightening his grasp on your thigh, grabbing your hair holding your head still.

“Watch daddy fuck his cunt into a gapping cum filled mess.” He groans, looking handsome balls deep in your cunt. His thick arms, broad chest, and muscular thighs, Toji is a massive beautiful man having his way with your cunt.

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

Tightening his grasp on your neck, pinning your thigh to the wall. Your other leg hooked around Satoru’s waist. “Dont even need to listen to you beg, your cunt is doing it for you. Hear how wet she is? Your little cunt keeps on cumming, soaking n’ gripping my cock.” Your cunt loudly squelches when he glides his long veiny cock in.

“Seems like no matter how much I cum my cock is keeping getting hard again. It’s all your fault. Sending me those sexy pictures and videos of you playing with yourself making my cock and balls ache.” Some of his thick cum is dripping out, your stomach’s bulge grows when he stuffs you with his cock.

Loosening his firm grasp on your neck, grabbing your other thigh. Pinning it and leaning back looking down watching slowly his thrusts down. He croons, “Aw I filled my your little cunt is too full of my cum, it's all dripping out no matter much I fucked it deeper!” He groans, it’s breathy ending in a needy whine.

Barely catching your breath, whimpering “Daddy please! I can't cum anymore!” Rapidly picking up speed with each hard thrust, till he’s moving faster than than the machine he’s gotten to watch you get fucked with.

Leaning in close, grabbing your chin, tilting your head back. His messy white hair falling into his beautiful sky blue eyes you swear have clouds in them. “Oh you can't? That’s too bad my poor little princess will have to keep taking Daddy’s cock in her broken little cunt anyway.” Roughly kissing you, slipping his tongue into your mouth, tasting of sweets and your cunt.

Biting your lip, stopping when you cry, your cunt clenching his sensitive cock. You can feel his veins throbbings, he’s close but that doesn't mean he’s done. Tilting his head back, his beautiful neck covered in lipstick and red hickies he won’t cover.

His jaw drops, he drops his head, pressing his forehead to your’s. “Fuck, fuck fuck fuck! You’re getting so tight! Mmmm you’re daddy’s little slut, my beautiful whore. Tell me who I am when I’m fucking your cunt into a sloppy mess.” Leaning back, stroking your clit with his thumb.

“You’re my-my! Nnnn!” You’re too cock drunk to get the words out. Whining, your cunt spamsing the intensity of your sore, sensitive cunt cumming for an unknownth time too much for you.

Satoru croons, “My my what? You said it? Whined it so beautifully it almost made me cum. You’re so fucking adorable, sexy, beautiful and needy, who else better to make me a daddy?”

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

Holding a knife to your neck, fucking your your sloppy cunt like he hates you. Suguru’s harsh, quick thrust too intense for your poor sensitive cunt to take. Closing your eyes, “Daaaady nnnn you feelsooogood! You’re cock! Nnnnn you’re!! Ahh!! Daddy!!” He fucks you harder with every word you utter till you’re a whimpering mess.

Dragging the sharp knife’s tip down your neck, between your breasts. Slowly sliding it closer towards your nipple, grabbing your jaw. “I need you to look your daddy in the eyes beautiful, it gets me off seeing the sexy look on your pretty face when you cum, let me see you cum for the tenth time.” You’re so close.

His pierced tongue, his thick fingers and his beautiful fat cock have spoiled you. Swiping the cool knife over your sensitive nipple. “Ahhhnnn dadddy.” You can feel the strong vibrations of your butt plug in your cunt.

His thick, being cock stroking all the right spots. “Squirt on Daddy’s cock.” Gushing on Suguru’s thick cock, soaking his balls hitting your ass. Slick trickling down to the toy pulsing in your other hole. He relentlessly, fucking you through your intense high.

Your mind shattering, eyes rolling back. Suguru groans, “That’s it! Good lil’ cock slut!” His smirking, groaning he knows how beautiful he is.

Holding his long, luscious hair back, thick longs framing his beautiful, angular face. A hungry, cocky smirk on his parted lips, the pink flush of his cheeks. And the loving passion in his warm honey brown eyes.

Tightening his grasp on your hip, stopping your pitiful attempt to run away from Suguru’s cock. “Where you going? Daddy isn't done with you yet, you got me hard for another round now ya gotta be a good girl n’ take it.” Setting the knife aside, grabbing your hair leaning down.

He’s too tall forcing you to look up. Using his weight and his firm grasp on your hip to keep you pinned beneath him. Legs spread for him to beat up your sloppy cunt with his hard cock. You can't believe he is all your’s.

“Nnn I can take it, wanna take daddy’s fat cock, wanna be filled with your warm cum. Please daddy, you didn't fill me up last time. N’ I've been good! Wanna! Wanna feel you cum, please!” Letting his hair go, swiping it to one side to make a thick curtain.

“That’s why you’re daddy’s good girl huh? Nnnnfuckmamafuck tell me who’s gonna make a beautiful mama.” His thick veins pulsing he’s so close.

[lascvitae]

❦ — the beginning of an era

synopsis. after landing a main role in an upcoming kdrama, y/n moves away from home to fulfill her dreams. upon arrival, it seems that her co-star has taken a newfound interest in her.

pairing. actress!minjeong x actress fem!reader genre. fluff(?) warning(s). none.

word count: 1.3k

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ katty ᥫ᭡: okay so i wanna make this a mini series and i have a few ideas in mind but if you guys have any scenarios or ideas then please don’t hesitate to send an ask!!



series masterlist.

it was around twelve pm once y/n finally landed in the heart of south korea, miles away from home for one of the first times ever.

almost a month earlier she received a call that changed her life. she had been casted the main role of an upcoming kdrama and while she had to move to a serviced apartment in the city, it was everything that the girl dreamed of doing since the age of five.

ever since that point she had starred in musicals, as background extras, side characters and even the younger version of main characters. yet with all of that experience, it felt like something was missing. something that she had just found.

the countless billboards gave her a glimpse of the bright future ahead— there were tons of famous celebrities, some who she couldn’t even name. but there were definitely a few that stood out the most.

there was jun jihyun, who owned numerous awards for her talent and not too far away was song hyekyo. everyone that y/n laid her eyes upon had a high level of fame and it filled her heart with hope for what was to come.

today was the day she would meet her co-stars and the place that she would be calling ‘home’ for the next few months.

leaning against her luggage as she patiently waited for the vehicle to arrive, a few buses passed by to pick up the other pedestrians. only one bus caught her attention.

plastered onto the side of the bus was one of the most well-known actresses in the industry — kim minjeong. y/n studied the advertisement for a lip balm with an intrigued smile. she could already see her own face on the side of a limousine bus.

minjeong wasn’t only known for her amazing performance on camera but also due to her kind-hearted nature. there probably wasn’t a single/ bad video of that girl on the internet. even if you hated some of her characters, it was impossible to hate her. though, most co-stars would mention that she is ‘slow to warm up’ and can even come off as rude or bratty at times.

a black suburban parked in front of y/n, snapping her out of her out of the mini-daydream, reminding her that it was now her turn to leave her mark on the world.

while y/n strolled her luggage towards the trunk, a man dressed in a black suit and tie cane around to grab everything for her. “let me grab this for you.” the man extended a hand, carefully taking the luggage with ease and securing it into the back. “thank you.” y/n muttered.

once he assured that his precious cargo was settled, the vehicle began to move and y/n let out a breath she had no idea that she was even holding.

all of the buildings that seoul fostered allowed a crumb of homesickness to sink in, wiping the smile clean off of her face. she looked down at her phone, seeing the message from her mother and best friend, aurora.

rory 💓

‘i miss u already 🥺🥺 u better text me everyday!!’

Sent 9:37 AM

my queen bee ❤️‍🔥

‘Don’t overwork yourself, honey. i’m always one call away if you need me. -Mom’

Sent 6:17 AM

my queen bee ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

‘I’m here to support you in any way you need.’

Sent 6:17 AM

the messages resulted in a pout and y/n decided to put her phone away before a tear could form, forcing herself to look outside of the window.

to her surprise, the car came to a stop a while ago and she hadn’t even realized it. the driver was already working at her luggage, opening up the door for her.

“thank you.” she held her purse as she eagerly stepped out of the vehicle, mouth agape from the tall building that stood before her. while y/n had achievements of her own this felt like a new key to stardom, there were even intimidating bodyguards standing at the entrance. there were paparazzi surrounding the building but it didn’t seem like they could get in.

y/n felt a rush of relief at the security system implemented.

with a singular look they granted the two of them access and they were on the way to the elevator.

the interior of the lobby was gorgeous, decorated with long chandeliers and colors along with gold that were visually perceived as expensive. almost every single intricate detail caught y/n’s eye as they settled into the spacious elevator.

“is this your first big role?” the driver, or what he seemed more like, the assistant asked y/n. she smiled nervously. “could you tell?”

he shrugged, not wanting to offend the girl. “a little bit. don’t worry, you’ll love park seonho. he’s a great director.”

her eyes nearly popped out of her skull.

she had only met the casting director so this was news to her — park seonho was one of the directors that y/n had respected the most. it gave her so much motivation for the show that she had to hold back a squeal.

once the elevator ding indicated that they had made it to her floor, y/n followed the man to her new apartment.

“um, how do these work?” she sheepishly asked as the door swung open, her mouth following quickly behind.

the apartment was huge — and it wasn’t short of how luxurious the lobby was decorated. there were more seats in the living area than y/n could have imagined herself needing, she had just moved away from her hometown after all. the only person she knew was the mother of the baby that couldn’t keep quiet in the plane seat next to hers. all she could do was gasp as they walked further inside.

“i don’t have much information on that part. your neighbor arrived about an hour ago. she’s your co-star.” he set down all of y/n’s luggage before heading for the door.

“by the way, you can call me mr. kim. i’ll be your driver for the next six months, miss y/n.” the girl bowed as he introduced himself, and just as quickly as he arrived, he had departed.

the spacious apartment building left y/n speechless and so that she couldn’t procrastinate about it later, she began to unpack all of her bags. her mystery neighbor proved to be a powerful distraction, though.

to fulfill the never ending curiosity, y/n swiftly traversed to the door adjacent to her own. with three knocks, she put on the brightest smile managable.

after a few seconds passed the door finally swung ajar and y/n wasn’t sure of what she recognized first. the short blonde hair, the rosy pink lips or the shirt that revealed a sliver of the girl’s infamous abs.

“hello.” she greeted with a bow, instantly recognizing her co-star. at this moment y/n realized that she was staring, or even gawking at this point. but how could she not? it was none other than kim minjeong.

“h-hello.” she returned the bow, blinking to confirm the girl before her eyes.

curiosity piqued, minjeong’s lips curled into an interested smile. “i’m looking forward to working with you…” she trailed off, raising an eyebrow.

“y/n.”

“y/n. perfect. i’m min—“

“i know who you are, it’s okay! i’m — um, i’m looking forward to working with you too.” the smile on her face widened. “of course.”

y/n chewed at her lower lip. “so, uh, how do these work exactly?” minjeong seemed slightly confused before she understood the question and why you were asking it. “it’s like a hotel. housekeeping will stop by every wednesday and it should already be fully furnished. at least, i hope that was the case.”

y/n wasn’t sure if she was nervous or if she genuinely found her words funny but a light hearted chuckle escaped the lips she had been nibbling at. “it was. thank you, minjeong.”

“no need.” she offered another kind smile. “you know where to find me. you should settle down.” the door closed shortly after that and y/n could feel her heart trying to escape the restraints of her chest, hitting herself in the head a few times.

“why did i stutter like that?” the whispered sentence was only audible to her as she glanced at the end of the empty hallway before hiding inside of her apartment. y/n had just made her first friend in korea. kim minjeong. one of the most talented women in the country.

and they were neighbors.

the next six months were going to be a roller coaster.

perm taglist — @saysirhc @aedollie @prologue-ae

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dearly Beloved 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, arranged marriage, allusions to abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After spurning one too many suitors, you wind up with the worst person you've ever met.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: inspired by the ask about a reader that wears skirts all the time but Lloyd discovers she wears shorts too and it challenged to get past them.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You swipe the wand against your lashes one last time and shove it back into the tube. You sit up as you check the overall effect. Nothing too much. You like a dewy look, natural but glowing. You have to at least look like you care about today. 

The knock at the door is like clockwork. You’ve done this too many times. You expected your parents to give up by now. All the men did. 

You yawn and set the mascara back in your makeup case. “Come in,” you call dully. 

You watch your mother enter in the mirror. She’s in one of her stiff tweed jackets and a matching skirt. If she took a few inches off the skirt, it might be cute. 

“Waiting on you,” she tuts and crosses her arms. 

“Oh, are you?” You shut the case and stand. “I must’ve lost track of time.” 

You stand and smooth your dress. The little bow accoutrements long the shallow slit of the short skirt add a touch of sparkly to the navy blue. You’ve paired the dress with beige heels and thick gold hoop earrings. You look exactly to her standards and yet there’s disappointment in her eyes. 

“He will not like you being late,” she girds as she crosses the room and reaches for you. You stop her from touching your hair. She always has to fix what doesn’t need to be fixed. 

“Mother, it’s not on purpose. I only want to look my best. As you said,” you tilt your head coyly. 

“Don’t,” she frees herself from your grasp and points at you. “I need you to start taking this seriously. You are twenty-five.” 

“An old spinster,” you sigh dramatically, “how many is this now? Eighteen? You think this one will bite?” 

“If you would try, perhaps. Don't think you are so clever,” she bristles. 

“Mother, I’ve done everything you’ve asked me too. I’ve been on my best behaviour but you simply can’t force love,” you insist. 

“Dear, I do not know why you do this. Your father will blow an aneurysm if you keep this up,” she hisses. 

“Oh yes, the steam came out of his ears last time,” you chuckle. 

“It isn’t funny. This is our legacy. You are our legacy.” 

Your smile falls. Why you? It was her choice not to have any more heirs. If they are so important, she should have, right? Why must it be you? 

“Mother, can it not wait longer? A few years?” 

“This is not a seller’s market.” 

“And I’m not property. I’m a person. Your daughter.” 

“Mm, well, a few more years and there would be concern. For... fertility,” she sniffs. 

“Yes, I am cattle. Forgive my mistake.” 

“Please, I am not—if you tried to get along, you might find a good match,” she snips. 

“They are all snobs and terribly boring. I’ve tried.” 

“You are late. You are catty. And you roll your eyes,” she sneers. “How about a smile and a ‘yes, mother’.” 

You hold back your agitation. You get your stubbornness from her but that only seems to irk her. She didn’t raise you to be a pushover but that’s exactly what she’s telling you to be. 

“Yes, mother,” you smile and flutter your lashes, “I will try to increase my price so that you and father can go on your....” you count silently on your fingers, “twentieth honeymoon?” 

“You--” she begins and makes a fist. You lean away. She glares at you. “Rein it in.” 

She spins and stomps to the door. You exhale as your cheeks pinch painfully. At least she thought not to mess up your makeup. 

You follow her into the hallway. You’re silent. You know better than to keep on when she gets to this point. You tell that crying little girl to go back to her corner and once more paint on a smile. 

You follow her down the curling stairs and your heels echo through the foyer. She takes you to the sitting room and steps back to let your through first. You barely look at the man sat in the centre of the settee. 

“She’s here. Apologies for the wait, she was having a bad hair day,” she preens. There’s silence. “Well, then I should leave you to introduce yourselves.” 

She pulls the sliding wood doors from another era. You huff, “as if. My hair is perfect.” 

The man laughs. His sole scuffs as he stands. He says your name. 

“Mm, let’s not pretend here. We both know what this is.” 

“Straight to the point,” he remarks with a snort. “Should we exchange measurements and decide?” 

It takes you a moment to get his meaning. That’s disgusting. You face him with lip curled. “I think I can guess pretty easily,” you look him up and down. You arch a brow. “Oh, well...” 

His lips thin and he squints. The crinkles around his eyes deepen. You want to wipe off that silly mustache above his lip. 

“You’re a bit older than I expected.” You shrug. 

He puts a hand on his hip, “experience. Means I know what I’m doing.” 

You smile again, only to keep from laughing. You dig a heel into the floor and check your nails. “Sure, well, we should waste about half an hour and then we can send for my mother.” 

He clucks. You look at him, your elbow against your side as you keep your hand up. His brows knit then lift. “Lloyd Hansen.” He offers his hand, “billionaire, with a whole lot more coming to me.” 

“Right,” you look at his hand and turn away. You strut around him, “look, I’m really not looking to get married. I’m just doing what they tell me so I wouldn’t bother. Save your energy.” 

You flop onto the settee and hook one knee over the other. You rock your foot as you cross your arms. He slithers after you, stopping by the arm rest. 

“Oh, I got lots of energy,” he scoffs. “Well, half-an-hour, I can think of a few ways to pass the time. I’m not really the sort to wait until marriage.” 

You grimace at him, “no thank you.” 

“Well, aren’t you a treat? I heard about you but I thought all those guys were cucks,” he snorts. 

“Heard about me?” You repeat. 

“Sure, frigid bitch it what they’re saying,” he snickers and turns to sit beside you, “but they didn’t say anything about those legs.” 

He stretches his arm across the back of the couch above you. He tries to drop it onto your shoulders and you catch his wrist and shove him away. He chuckles again and tugs on your hair. You swat him. 

“Hey, no touching,” you snarl. 

“I like this,” he pinches the little ribbon button along the skirt, “it’s cute. Nice little peek of thigh.” 

Before you can stop him, he shoves his hand through slit of the skirt and squeezes our thigh. You yipe and you grab his other arm. He pushes up against your shorts. He frowns. 

“What?” He pinches the edge along your thigh. 

“Chafing,” you push him off of you. “What the hell are you doing?” 

“I’m here to buy. I wanna know what I’m paying for,” he sneers. 

“Ew, ew,” you shove him again and stand, storming away as you shiver in repulsion. “Ew. Firstly, you’re too old. Second, your pervy little mustache is gross. Third, you’re nasty.” 

“You haven’t really given me a chance. One, I might have a few extra years under my belt but that means I know what I’m doing,” you face him as he holds up a thumb. “Two, this mustache is there for her pleasure. Yours, if you play your cards right. Three,” his other hand rests on his thigh as you glimpse the twitching in his cream coloured pants, “tell me how nasty to be and I’ll gladly fuck that rod out of your ass.” 

“Wow, you are repugnant,” you scoff. 

“I got some extra flavour,” he leans forward, his elbows on his legs as he clasps his hands together. “Those other guys, I know they came in here like simps in their bowties, tryna lube you up with those puppy dog eyes. Well, I’m here for business. I don’t have time to waste on games and you don’t seem to like playing. It’s perfect.” 

“It couldn’t be less awful,” you assure him. 

“Right, I’m sure you’re having the time of your life with Mommy Dearest there. Does she have wire hangers? Don’t answer that,” he laughs and sits back, leaning his arm on the cushioned rest. “At least I’m honest. I’m not gonna sit here and lick your asshole. Not figuratively. I got shit to get done, namely, getting married, and you seem, well, to put it in your language ‘so over it’,” he puts on a trite voice. 

“I’m over you,” you insist. 

“I don’t mind a girl on top,” he winks. 

“Ugh, maybe you should meet a few divorcees. They might just be desperate enough.” 

“Tried that game. She cried after. Was really awkward.” 

You glare at him. He really is gross. You’re not a prude by any measure but this is supposed to be an introduction. He’s supposed to at least pretend to be gentleman. 

“I’m done with this conversation, so you can entertain yourself,” you dismiss with a flick of your fingers. 

He chortles as you turn your back to him. You clomp over to the window and distract yourself with the hedges and the sparrows rustling within. Your mother will be upset but he’s the last of the...however many men you’d choose. 

“No wonder you got them lined up, sweet cheeks, you fill out that dress real nice,” his soles scuff on the floor. “It’s cute but I’d suggest something with a bit less at the top. I’m sure you got a nice balance.” 

You ignore him and shake your head at the panes. You listen to his slow approach. You tense as you sense him right behind you. 

“You’re not the first I’ve met either, you know? The rest of them are so... flighty. The last one had a list of demands. A fucking bride price. Chanel everything. Boring,” he says. 

You wince as he touches your back. He drags his fingers up your dress and you snarl as you go rigid. He gets even closer and hums. 

“Let me pet the kitty and then you can decide. You really can’t make a clear decision if you don’t know how a man--” he snakes his hand around your neck and you dip your chin. You bite down on the webbing between his thumb and index. 

He yowls as you clamp down on him. You let him go and he staggers away. You face him and watch him with a smug smirk as he shakes his hand. He cradles it and hisses. 

“You little...” he snarls through his teeth as his eyes blaze at you. 

“I warned you already not to touch me,” you insist. “The next time, they’ll be blood.” 

He holds up his hand and examines the red bite mark. He scowls and lowers it. His glare meets yours hotly. He squares his shoulders and narrows his eyes. 

“Oh, baby girl, you don’t know what you’ve done,” he spits. 

He turns and strides to the door. You cackle as he tries to pull them inward first, then figures to slide them apart. You stay as you are as you hear his footsteps reverberate around the foyer. You turn to face the window again. 

He marches down the long stone walk toward the arched driveway. You’ve never chased one out before. To be honest, all the others were too shy to get that close. He waves at Carmen, the valet. You tisk between your teeth and shrug as you spin back. 

Your mom will probably let her fists fly now but it will be worth it, so long as you never have to see that man again. 

[quesocheeso]

A sharp laugh rang over the crashing waves, Macaque's ears pinned back to muffle the laugh as its owner's double over in a fit.

"That's the best joke yet! C'mon, bud, you know I'm smarter than that", Wukong's voice may be cheerful but his eyes, his eyes showed a building annoyance. If it had been a joke, it would not have landed at all, unfortunately for the two celestial primates it was not a joke at all.

I wish it was, Macaque thought, no, I wish it happened in better circumstances

"It's not, I'm being serious here Wukong—"

"Yeah as if! You? Pregnant? You don't have a single parental bone inside of you!" his laughter cut off, and his temper was rearing its head once again.

"I don't know what type of vile scheming you think you are doing, but this? This is a new low, even for you—"

"Wukong—"

"No that's not right, this is exactly the type of crap you'd try!"

"Oh please like you're such a saint! You may try to lie to everyone, but I know you! And you're just as rotten as I am, two peas in a pod!"

"At least I am trying to change, you've just become worse! And now you're even lying about cubs!"

"I've already told—"

why are you arguing with him? wouldn't it be better if he doesn't believe you?

Macaque shut his mouth with a click.

do you want him to be around your cub? he'd probably want to take them away from you, and if he does you know you wouldn't be able to stop him. you'll never see your cub ever again.

Macaque stared back at Wukong, the only noise was the waves crashing and the sounds of the jungle behind them. He hadn't even made it two steps into the island before the Monkey King was before him.

that's right. i have no power here. never did.

Instead Macaque plastered a smirk on his face.

make him relinquish his rights before he figures it out. he'll be forced out of the picture and you won't have to worry about him ever again. you can leave. just you and your cub.

"Alright smart guy, guess that means you wouldn't want a cub with little old me, huh? How kingly of you~" Macaque leaned forwards taunting the king, laying it on thick, hoping the king's temper would cloud his judgement.

he's smart. you need to be smarter.

"With a guy like you? Never. I'd have better luck with a random mortal off the streets" Wukong sneered back, eyes flashing red briefly before turning back to their false gold.

"Well then why don't you say it loud and clear, tough guy. How Sun Wukong doesn't want anything to do with this cub, if it's such a joke!"

don't call my bluff, fall for it. just one dismissal and you won't ever have rights over this cub. just one more time fall for it.

"Don't mind if I do! I, Sun Wukong, the Great Sage Above Heaven want—"

Macaque willed it to happened, he hoped, and yet why was he shaking?

"—want nothing to do with your scheming right now so I'm leaving", the sage turned around manifesting his somersault cloud, and climbing on it.

what.

"What?! We're not done here! You have to say it, Wukong!"

"I'm done playing games with you Macaque, so I'm leaving before I say something we'll both regret"

that's what I need you to do!

"Wuko—!" but the sage was gone before Macaque could finish.

Leaving Macaque with even more problems than he began with.

——

Lore explanation:

In demon society, the one who carries the child has primary rights over the child when neither of the parents are together. That doesn't mean the other parent doesn't have any rights, they're just secondary guardians.

But that right can be revoked if they announce it so, it's like magically binding.

So if Wukong had fallen for Macaque's trap, he would have revoked his rights over Xiaoxing before he even realized he was real lmaooo.

3am Au

[saltwaterburns]

Hi:)!! I love your writing, but just wondering if ya'd do some dick Grayson smut, like with the sex pollen stuff just making him all needy,

Fem reader? Even nb reader o_O?

Like ur real good at writing man^_^.

And I mean if you'd add some of your own kinks? I'd love to see him acting like an lil whiner it's cute in a way, feels so odd to ask lmfao please laugh LMFAO 💔..

pretty bird

Summary: Dick gets hit by a new Poison Ivy pollen, and there's only one way, or rather one person, to get it out of his system.

Pairing: Dick Grayson x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ SMUT - sex pollen but explicit consent is given, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, thigh riding, praise/degradation, sub!dick, biting (lmk if i missed any)

Author's note: The fact that this took me over 3 months to finish is embarrassing and I'm sorry and please don't hate me and fuck how I love bottom Dick. I also fear that you can kind of see my kind of worryingly high ao3 screen time in between the lines, because I am not ashamed to admit it that omegaverse is one of man's best creations. Enjoy !!!!! No beta we die like Jason (Todd and/or Grace)

Word count: 2,4k

You wake up with a jolt. Somewhere, a door slams shut, but the noise comes from someplace a lot closer than you'd like when living in Blüdhaven. A string of soft curses float through your apartment, something falls and breaks, and by then you’re sat up atop your mattress, reaching for the knife Dick always insists you keep nearby. It could be him, it probably is, but since when does your acrobat make this much noise when coming back home in the middle of the night?

Dick stumbles through the doorway, one of his hands resting on the wall, seemingly to keep him upright. The lights of the city that bleed in through your bedroom window illuminate his face, and you know instantly that he’s been hit with something, whether that's a gas or some pollen, you’re not sure. His skin is glowing under a sheen of sweat, his cheeks flushed pink. He growls in frustration when a strand of inky black hair falls on his face and he pushes it away with a bit more force than necessary, chest heaving up and down with short and shallow breaths. 

You push the blanket off your legs, ready to stand up and walk over to inspect him for any injuries, possibly force him to take a bath with you when a throaty whine makes you stop in your tracks. He shakes his head and you look at him with furrowed brows, tilting your head in confusion.

“Ivy hit us with a.. ah, a pollen. Bruce sent me home right after, but that was before…before the effects showed up.” He rests his head against the doorframe, eyes squeezed shut. He swipes his tongue over his lips, the pink muscle heavy in his mouth which went dry the second he spotted you on that bed, waiting for him.

“What effects, exactly?” You ask him, the little crease of displeasure between your brows that Dick has a habit of soothing over with his thumb making an appearance. You cross your arms on your chest, both to show off your worry and to protect your body from the chill of the bedroom. “Are you in pain?”

As if on cue, another wave of something hits him and he lets his head fall back, his Adam's apple bobbing before he lets out another one of his drawn out whines. The sight of him like that makes something turn inside your gut, a dull ache in between your legs making itself known. “In pain, yes. Just not in the way you might, fuck!..think.” He claws at his Nightwing suit, seemingly desperate to get it off his heated skin and that's when it clicks. Ivy, pollen, not letting you come near him, sweaty and flushed as if…

Dick Grayson is currently standing in the doorway to your room, desperate to get his dick inside you and fuck his brains out. 

The sheer absurdity of the situation almost has you barking out a laugh, but it dies down in your throat when a soft plea leaves his lips, now slick with spit, reddish pink from his teeth abusing the soft flesh.

"There isn't an antidote for this. Not yet, anyway. 'N I was wondering if you'd maybe, shit, help me uh, get it out of my system? If you'd want, of course. 'S all good if not, sweetheart. Not really sure it'd be safe for you if I can't really, ngh, control myself."

His eyes stay locked on you, the usually light hues of blue tinted dark as the flush on his skin deepens, the worst of the pollen only starting to take effect. You don't say anything, but instead take a few quick steps towards him and before he has a chance to open his mouth to protest, you cup his cheek with your hand, other one laying flat on his chest. His heart is practically vibrating inside his ribcage from the sheer speed of it beating but that quickly leaves your mind at the absolutely obscene sound that leaves Dicks mouth at the feeling of your skin against his. It's a sob of pure relief mixed with agony because somehow even more blood pools at his groin, making him harder than he has ever been in his life. He turns his head and nuzzles his face into the palm of your hand, his heated lips nipping at your skin like flames of fire.

You coo at him, moving your hand up so you can run your fingers through his hair, now curly from the moisture of his skin. You grab a handful and gently pull his head back, letting your lips leave a trail of open mouthed kisses all over his jaw. His mouth has fallen open, spewing out soft pants and incoherent sounds.

"Wait, wait, baby," he hiccups softly, pulling away from you. "Don't know if m'gonna be able to control myself. Promise me that you'll tell me to stop if it gets too much 'n if I don't listen you'll punch me in the face?"

"Promise, Dickie." You nod, letting your other hand fall down to rest on his waist. You can feel the muscles of his core flex at your touch, and you gently drag the tips of your fingers through the divots of them. His eyes never leave yours and he's looking at you so earnestly, so devotedly it makes you feel sick for a moment. It's as if you are a god, a divine creature who has seized his ability to think, to breathe, and who he needs to guide him, tell him how to do the simplest things in case he even dares to think about doing them in a way you dislike.

You pull him down into a kiss, one slow, sweet and earnest. He has your face cradled in his hands, not daring to let them wonder in case it gets him punished later on. You gently guide him backwards with you, pulling him along by his hip, until the back of your legs meet the edge of the bed, and you fall back on it, pulling him with you. It's as if a switch has been flicked - the once languid and adoring kiss now turned messy, needy, desperate. His mouth is hot as it parts against your lips, tongues brushing against each other in an erotic dance. He tastes sweet, he always has, like honey and mint from the gum he seems to chew at any given moment.

He pulls away to catch his breath but somehow his hands have wandered under your shirt and are now tugging it over your head, throwing it over his shoulder. Your chest is bare in front of him, skin glinting under the light of the night, and he mewls, desperate. He brings his mouth down on your collarbone, leaving open mouthed kisses down until he reaches your breast, and before you can react, his sharp teeth have pressed down into the supple flesh. It hurts, and you keen off the bed with a soft cry.

He slides his tongue over the bite in a soothing manner, pressing a kiss on it as well. Despite the initial pain, by the fifth bite (which has your breasts positively red), your back is arching off the mattress for a different reason, and you're sure that if he'd try to slide your panties off, they'd stick to your cunt in the most obscene way possible.

Your insides are aching by now, desperate to be filled to the brim by his cock. You let him know by tugging on the top half of his Nightwing suit, pulling it over his shoulders. His hair is sticking up in every direction after that and you can't help but giggle, his lips silencing you with a playful kiss. He gets the lower half off by himself and is left just in his boxers, the visible tent in them making you unconsciously part your legs further.

Dick, however, decides that he needs something and he needs it now because another wave of pollen is tugging on his insides and the pain of it makes his stomach cramp up. He starts to slowly rut against your thigh, riding it like he has many times before as a punishment for being bratty. Each movement of his hips has him panting out soft ah! ah! ah! 's and his face is pressed against the crook of your neck, where he's desperately mouthing at the skin, drool soaking it up. You coo at him, masking the degrading terms of endearment under the guise of your sweet tone, but it's still just egging him on, and before he can realise that he's close, he's already come inside his boxers with a high pitched whine. His whole body shakes as the orgasm crashes over him in waves, and his arms give up, making him fall on top of you. You slide your arms over his bare back, pressing small kisses around his hairline.

"You did good, baby. So good for me, aren't you? Gonna fuck me now, pretty bird? Get your cock inside me, fuck yourself stupid 'til all the pollen is gone?"

He keens again, baring his neck to you in an act of submission. His head is fuzzy and he can't really understand what you're saying, but he heard "pretty bird" and "fuck" and suddenly his cock is all hard and leaky again, desperate to be surrounded by something warm and wet and tight. The pollen is making his skin itch unbearably and he needs you to bite him just like he bit you, marking you with pretty shapes and colours. You lean down and do just that, digging your canines right above his pulse point, sucking on the flesh until its angry and purple and so, so pretty, just like the man in front of you.

His body goes seemingly more lax at that, though his hips are still squirming. Somehow, you manage to tug your panties down and off your legs and you slide your fingers into his curls, harshly tugging on them to bring him back to the real world.

"Fuck me, Dickie." You purr, bringing him into a kiss. He can't seem to catch up with your pace, but his instincts speak for themselves, and although the kiss is way sloppier than it should be, all the happy noises he's making makes it worth it.

He cages you between his arms and you help him guide his tip to your opening, clenching around nothing but air. You hadn't noticed when exactly he'd gotten rid of his now soiled boxers but there's nothing exactly to complain about. Your arousal mixed with the cum thats covering the length of him make it easy for him to slide fully inside you with a single thrust, the feeling of so suddenly being filled to the brim punching all the air out of your lungs.

He starts fucking into you like a madman, incoherent whines and pleas and moans spilling from his swollen lips like wildfire. You can't understand anything, but you hold him close, pressing kisses on top of any strip of skin you can reach. "Good, birdie, just like- fuck! that. Fucking me so good, you're the best boy."

You wrap your legs around his, digging your heels into his thick thighs, letting your head fall back in bliss. You can feel a few droplets fall onto your skin and then trail down, and you can't help but giggle e. "Is my pussy so good that it's making you cry, baby? You're so pathetic, Dickie, it's embarrassing. Just look at you."

Your voice is sickly sweet in his ear and he just cries harder, cheeks burning red from embarrassment, but it's as if his body has a mind of its own, continuing to fuck into you like a dog, a dog in heat. He doesn't want to feel stupid and incompetent, and he hates the fact that you're laughing at him, making him feel like he isn't doing a job good enough, but despite your cruel jokes, you're choking on moans of your own, and he also knows by the wet sounds of your cunt that he's fucking you better than anyone ever has and anyone ever will.

He brings one of his hands between your two slick bodies and starts to rub aggressive and tight circles on your clit, eyes locked on you as your face scrunches up, mouth falling apart at the mind numbing pleasure. He knows you better than anyone, so when your muscles start to tense and the pitch of your moans is getting higher and higher, he knows you're close. He picks up the pace of his hips, the sound of skin slapping echoing all around the bedroom. One, two, three snaps and you're coming on his cock with a loud cry, body convulsing painfully. He follows you not even a moment later, coming in the tight heat of your stomach with a loud whine, his whole body shuddering. Despite your vision swimming, you let your hands wander all over his skin, pulling his shaky body to your chest, where you shower him with kisses, touches and soft praises.

"Good, good boy, birdie. You did good, fucked me so good. How are you feeling?"

He just, whines softly on your chest, looking up at you with glassy eyes, blinking owlishly. You pepper his face with tiny kisses until he comes back, and when you feel his nose scrunch up under your lips, you know he's with you once more.

"Talk to me, baby. Are you good? Do we need to go again?" You run your fingers through his hair, letting your nails scratch over his scalp. He leans into your touch and you're pretty sure that if he could, he'd be purring.

"M'okay, I think. At least for now. I feel good, but I can tell that it's not completely gone from my system. Might need to do another round later." His voice is scratchy, and you reach for the water bottle on your bedside table, making him drink half of it. He thanks you with a soft kiss and settles back down on your chest, arms curled around your body.

You can't help but smile at him, heart overflowing with affection. "We should take a shower, pretty bird. You're sticky and I'm sticky, and we could do another round there. That sound good?"

He perks up at the mention of showering together and you laugh, pulling him up with you.

"Come on, then. If you're good then I'll use my mouth on you."

[cawslew]

BSD: SUNRISE NAVIGATION POST

About: This is a role and age reversal AU, Atsushi, a former Mafia assassin, saves a suicidal young adult, Dazai, from drowning. Now, not only must he juggle mentoring Dazai, but also keeping his other mentee, Kunikida, safe as the Mafia grows more dangerous than ever.

CHUUYA

Chuuya used to be Atsushi’s mentee back when the older was in the Mafia. But unlike Atsushi, who was groomed into obedience, Chuuya was strong-willed, defiant, and never wanted to be a Mafia tool. However, despite his resistance, he was ultimately forced into the organization, largely because of Atsushi.

For years, Chuuya believed Akutagawa killed him. As the man hated Atsushi enough, and he even claimed being responsible. So Chuuya never doubted it. Until he runs into Atsushi again, alive, working for the ADA, and mentoring not one, but two damn students.

That leaves Chuuya reeling. The betrayal still lingers, but so does the bitter realization that Atsushi got to leave while he stayed trapped in the dark. And the fact that Dazai and Kunikida (Especially Dazai. He hates Dazai), Atsushi’s newest student, exists at all? That just makes his resentment burn even stronger.

AKUTAGAWA

Akutagawa and Gin were orphans, just like in the original. They had a small group of friends, barely scraping by until one night, the Mafia tore it all away. His friends were slaughtered. And Akutagawa, in a desperate, rage-fueled retaliation, barely managed to kill the men responsible before collapsing from exhaustion.

That’s when Kyouka and Atsushi found him.

For some reason, Kyouka took him in. And where Akutagawa went, Gin followed.

At first, he hated the Mafia. He hated everything about it. They took everything from him. But somewhere along the line, in a twisted way, he found his reason there.

One thing, though. He never got along with Atsushi.

Mori kept pairing them up, but they were like oil and water. Atsushi was too soft, too merciful, too weak, and Akutagawa refused to be second to someone like him. The competition was fierce, their clashes constant. No matter how strong Akutagawa got, Atsushi was always in his way.

Then Kyouka died. And Atsushi left.

Akutagawa caught him in the act. Tried to stop him. Failed.

And yet, in a moment he still doesn’t fully understand, he covered for him. Let everyone believe he killed Atsushi with his own two hands.

He told himself it didn’t matter. That it was for the best.

Then he sees him again.

And everything he buried? That ugly, seething resentment? Yeah, it comes back full force.

NOTES:

When it comes to Chuuya’s design, I wanted to keep it somewhat close to the novel's appearance while also making sure it felt unique to this AU. Because of that, in the end, I settled on a more strawberry-blond-leaning ginger hair and brown eyes (like in the covers of the novels), with blue specks that give him a dark greenish eye color overall. I took a lot of inspiration from both age 15 Chuuya and his Dragon’s Head Conflict design, which resulted in the red hoodie and dark green jacket.

I especially wanted to make sure Chuuya looks good and fashionable while incorporating more of his tough looks. His haircut was also a recent addition, as he cut it after the death of his close friends about a month ago (for reference, this is about a month before the "start" of the story, where Atsushi meets Dazai).

When it comes to Akutagawa, he stayed somewhat the same? Still rocking that Victorian orphan style. Sadly, I am always unable to do my man justice </3.

In this AU, he wears more layered clothes, a white classic shirt, a black vest, and on top of that, something like a frilly shrug blouse or shrug bolero. Plus a huge black coat. So, like always, he's fancy as fuck.

I also wanted to make sure he looks much more frail and sickly, so he's really pale, has bags under his eyes, and overall looks lanky and a bit sunken.

[n0tamused]

Hello! Congrats on 1.5k! That’s so awesome! 👏

Would it be okay to request romantic Action prompt 11 “Person A and B are sparring when one of them pins the other to the floor/wall” for Mydei? Would be cute if Reader pinned Mydei and surprised him lol 😈

I��m in shambles after 3.1–

I also request you have a lovely week heheh ❤️

︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹Mydei x Reader

A/n: EYY ANON THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REQUESTING FOR MYDEI ILY, I WAS WAITING FOR A MYDEI REQUEEST UGDTZJUKJHHIFI<3 Also thank you!!! 3.1 left me in some(a lot) denial, thus I shall be taking charge of writing how Mydei's story ends <3. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy this, thank you for partaking in the event and helping me celebrate this milestone! <3

Contents: Mydei x Reader, no gender specified(GN, you/yours) but written with a fem reader in mind, fluff

Words: 580

Ko-Fi |  1.5K followers event

His next swing came from the left, swift and powerful, leaving you just enough time for you to raise your arm in defense. The blow still sent you back, and Mydei did not stop his assault there. Several more blows came, left and right, above and under, some you parried and others you dodged well enough. At one point you caught sight of his face, all twisted in focus, so amusing in the moment that it made you chortle. 

“You’re growing frustrated” you noted through a huff, just before seeing an opening to repay him with your own strike. Mydeimos caught your wrist, but could not hold it for a moment longer as you jumped back out of his grasp. Swift as a snake.

“I am not” 

“Tired then” 

He scoffed at you and shook his head, the corners of his lips giving a small tug upwards, showing faintest traces of a smirk. “You can wish” He launched at you, but something caught in his step and more of his body came forward, and with that his balance as well. For a moment you thought you’d miss your chance, as not often did Mydeimos lose his balance, but you caught the moment just in time, your body going down as your foot went under his own, successfully tripping him.

Mydei went tumbling and the breath he let out sounded as if the air got kicked out of him. You wasted no time, hopping onto him and pinning him down with a gleeful expression, perhaps one too smug, yet it couldn’t be helped.

“You are done, Mydeimos” you threw at him, chest heaving and your hand clinging onto him to hold him down - no matter how much enjoyment you took from seeing his eyes widen at you in surprise, you knew better than to let victory blind you. It goes without saying that you may have had some experiences with Mydeimos when triumph was quickly followed by your failure.  “I take victory today”.

“Victory based on luck is no victory to boast about” he shot back at you, gaze narrowing in that catish way of his, fire burning in his eyes.

“You would not be able to complain about that in a real battle” you began, already seeing him roll his eyes, having heard the same words from his mentor, “if your enemy relied on chance to reign triumph over you, it means you, also, relied in part on luck to win” 

“That means - I won, fair and square” you concluded, sparing you both any further philosophical talk that usually came with such topics.

“Fair and square, you won’t be saying that once I get up off the ground-”

“Then I will not let you rise from the ground at all”

“Why, are you scared you might just fail, that your run has run out?”

You scoffed, feeling the big ball of light and fire inside your chest burn brighter at the thought that entered your mind swiftly. 

“No, in fact, it is because I rather like this sight before me. I’d like to commit it to memory”

Mydeimos gawked at you, his lips falling ajar to say something only to find sounds of protest in place of words he wanted. He felt even more frustrated when you began to giggle and laugh, your arms leaving his frame and arms where you had him pinned down - it seems your words were enough force to keep him nailed down until he recovers. 

Ⓒ n0tamused/jarttavia_. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[carlonsos]

Lights Off, Hands On.

Pairings: Carlos Sainz Jr x female!reader

Synopsis: in which the reader and Carlos were once the heartthrob of the paddock, have broken up a few months back. Tonight, you wanted a time to lose yourself. Put a distance to reality. And to put distance to reality, you did.

CW: +18, smut, mature themes, hate-sex, breeding, can't get enough of one another.

The bass thrums beneath your skin, the pulse of the club syncing with your heartbeat as you tilt your head back, swallowing the last sip of your drink. It burns, but not as much as the sight of Carlos across the room.

You don’t expect to see him here. Not in this city, not tonight, not with her.

She’s tucked against his side, a brunette in red, her laughter bright even in the dim haze of the neon-lit lounge. His hand rests at her waist—low, easy, familiar. You shouldn’t be looking. You should turn away.

But Carlos sees you first.

His smile fades. His fingers twitch against her dress. And for a split second, it’s just you and him, standing on the edge of something neither of you ever learned how to escape.

You move before you think, weaving through bodies, ignoring the clawing ache in your chest. There’s no plan, no hesitation, just the need to get close enough to remind yourself why you left in the first place.

Carlos shifts, murmuring something to her. She doesn’t notice his distraction, but you do. You see the way his fingers twitch at his sides, the way his chest rises and falls just a little too sharply, the way his jaw clenches like he’s trying to bite back a reaction he has no right to feel anymore.

It’s not fair.

You spent months learning how to live without him, how to move through the world without looking for him in every crowd, without aching every time you heard his name. See it on TV every race weekend. Where you see images of him in the paddock, where you once linked arms and walked through it with ease.

And yet—

One glance, and it all unravels.

You don’t think. You move. Your feet carry you to the bar, to the one place you know he’ll follow.

And he does.

By the time you reach the bar, he’s already there.

He stops just behind you. Close enough that you can feel the heat of him, too close for people who are supposed to be strangers now.

You don’t turn around.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is low, rough.

You look ahead, lifting your drink to your lips. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Carlos exhales sharply. “Don’t play games with me.”

You swallow down your drink, gaze dropping as you set your glass down with a soft clink. “I thought that’s all we ever did.” A hint of bitterness.

His silence is heavy, weighted with things neither of you have the courage to say.

Then—softly, bitterly—he murmurs, almost a hiss, “I hate seeing you.”

You blinked ahead, ignoring the sting in your throat. “I hate seeing you, too.”

It’s a lie. You both know it.

Your fingers curl around the edge of the bar as you finally slowly turn to face him. His eyes are dark, unreadable, but there’s something in them that makes it hard to breathe.

“You’re happy,” you say, forcing the words out, testing them, seeing if they break you the way you think they might.

Carlos doesn’t answer right away. His jaw tenses. His gaze flickers—down to your lips, to your throat, to your hands gripping the bar like you need it to keep you upright.

Then he shakes his head, his Spanish accent thick. “Am I?”

Your chest tightens. “She seems nice.”

“She is.”

You nod, ignoring the nausea curling in your stomach. “Good.”

Carlos exhales, running a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding into every movement. “Why are we doing this?”

You tilt your head, smiling in a way that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Doing what?”

“Lying to each other.” His voice is hoarse.

“Pretending like this doesn’t hurt."

The words knock the air from your lungs.

You want to tell him it doesn’t. That you’re fine. That you don’t still wake up expecting to feel his warmth beside you, that you don’t still hear his voice in the quiet spaces of your day.

But what’s the point in lying when he already knows the truth?

Your silence says enough.

Carlos sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Come with me.”

You blink. “What?"

He steps closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just—five minutes. That’s all I need.”

Your pulse pounds in your ears. You should say no. You should walk away.

But you never could tell him no.

So you let him take your wrist, let him pull you into the dark hallway behind the bar, let him press you against the wall like he’s seconds away from falling apart.

Then, he kisses you.

And it’s devastating.

It’s months of longing, of regret, of wanting something you both know you shouldn’t have. His lips are desperate, his hands frantic, like he’s trying to commit you to memory before the moment is gone.

You kiss him back just as fiercely, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, pouring every unsaid word into the way your mouths move together.

It’s fire and ruin. It’s love and destruction. It's harrowing but so fucking good.

It’s everything you swore you’d never let happen again.

His forehead drops to yours, the two of you gasping for air, as though meeting each other's lips again is your oxygen. “Tell me you don’t still feel it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Carlos…”

“Tell me.”

You exhale shakily. “I can’t.”

A sharp breath. His hands tighten on your waist, like he’s trying to hold onto something that’s already slipping through his fingers.

“Neither can I,” he whispers.

And then, he's kissing you again. Like starved man, you meeting that intensity, arching your hip to hip. Fingers tangling in his hair, tugging just to hear that familiar groan rumble in his chest. His hands are everywhere—gripping your waist, pressing you closer, as if he’s trying to erase the time apart.

But time hasn’t changed anything.

Not the way he fits against you. Not the way your body responds to his touch. Not the way your heart still stumbles in his presence.

It’s dangerous. Addictive. A losing game you both should’ve quit a long time ago.

And yet—

“Tell me to stop.” His breath is hot against your skin, his voice rough, strained.

You could. You should.

But instead, you whisper, “I don’t want you to.”

And so he doesn’t.

He slots his thigh between yours. Your core instantly chasing that heat at his thigh. A moan escapes you to which he happily drinks with lust.

The cold air outside bites at your skin, but the heat between you and Carlos is unbearable. His hands are everywhere—gripping, pulling, claiming. The moment you press against the wall, the world around you vanishes. There is no club, no noise, no one else but him, his body, his lips, the way he moves like he’s trying to erase the space between you.

You gasp into him, and it only fuels his urgency. His hands are under your jacket, fingertips grazing the bare skin of your waist, sending a shiver of electricity through your body. You can feel the heat radiating from him, feel his chest rise and fall against yours, his breath uneven and ragged.

Your hands roam—fingers threading into his hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss, urging him closer as your bodies align, fitting together in a way that feels too familiar, too right.

Carlos growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips, and you feel his fingers slip under the hem of your shirt, warm and insistent. The moment his fingertips brush the soft skin of your stomach, a jolt of need shoots through you, and you press yourself harder against him, as if the friction might be the only thing that keeps you both tethered to reality.

His hands move with purpose—sliding down your body, over your hips, gripping you like he’s never going to let go. He pushes his body into yours, the hard press of him sending a wave of heat crashing through you.

The feeling of him—of him—is intoxicating. You’ve forgotten how well he fits against you, how perfectly his body matches yours. His chest presses against yours, the beat of his heart wild, and you can feel the tension building between you like a slow-burning fuse.

His hands slip lower, teasing the waistband of your jeans, his fingers grazing the soft skin of your stomach, and it makes you ache. You want him, you need him. No more games, no more pretending this is just a fleeting moment.

His hand slides under your shirt, warm fingers splayed across your back, before slowly making its way up, pushing the fabric higher. You let him. There’s no stopping him now, no stopping either of you.

His thumb grazes the side of your breast, a touch so light it almost makes you ache with need. Eliciting goosebumps across your skin. You arch into him, unable to stop yourself, and he groans, deep and low. “You’re fucking killing me.”

You couldn't help but moan against him, cursing out against his lips to which he responds with his own curse in his mother tongue. "Joder."

You pull at the fabric of his shirt, trying to get it off, and he helps, lifting his arms just enough for you to tug it over his head.

The moment his bare chest presses against yours, a shudder runs through you. He’s solid, warm, real. And you want every inch of him.

Carlos groans, his hands trembling slightly as they slide up your sides, pushing your shirt higher, revealing your bare skin. His eyes darken as he takes you in, every inch of you like he’s afraid you might slip away.

There was no going back. Reality was thrown out the window. A single meeting of heated gazes and the two of you were hurriedly removing each others' jeans.

As soon as you slid the zipper down, pushing the jeans and boxers down his hips, you couldn't help but moan out in absolute, shameless lust as you traced the lines of his hips, the dips, to his length that sprung up as soon as it was free.

You couldn't waste any more time.

Your core pulsed with insane need. Both of you exposed to the cool air, keeping one another warm at the proximity. Easily, as ever familiar, as though you were never months apart, you hooked your leg around his waist. His forehead rests on yours, both of you gasping at the light touch of his length meeting your core with the slightest of touches.

With a hand around your waist, his lower jaw slightly jutting out in concentration, his other hand stroking himself momentarily before slowly guiding himself toward your entrance.

A guttural moan escaped him as he slid into your tight walls, eliciting a choked moan from you. Your head fell back against the cold wall. His lips found your neck to ground himself as he began to slowly move into you.

His thrusts were slow at first, but it wasn't soft whatsoever. Each was slow, deliberate, strong. Knees slightly arched so that he could push himself all the way to the hilt, his balls touching your core. The depth of it had your mouth falling open, eyes wide as you drank in the feeling of the familiar stretch, the pleasurable pain.

It wasn't long before he was pounding into you. Thrusts slowly growing in pace. The rustle of his belt hitting the floor was a mere background noise, much like the club that grew awfully distant. Your hooked around his shoulders, fingers tugging at his dark, long strands. His strong hands, evident from his lifestyle as a Formula One driver held you expertly, shielding what he could from the wall from scraping against your back.

You began to lose clarity - since his eyes landed on yours. All reality was out the window as the two of you drank each other in in the way you touched each other.

Of how you missed him, how he held you so fucking gently when he's still pounding into you, enough to have you wanting to melt into him. To fuck you senseless. Like he did all those months ago.

Your nails fell down his neck to his back, feeling a build up in your lower abdomen. Nails scraping up his back as a knot was forming, your toes beginning to curl against him. His breathing became more shallow - he was nearing too.

"Y/N—" he grunted, his breathing frantic, eyes closed shut, licking stripes across your neck as you took him in with every hit inside.

"Do it. Give it to me." You whispered hoarsely, voice shaking with his thrusts. The upward motion thrusting his length's head reach the deepest inside of you with so much ease. Beads of sweat from the both of you, breathing each other in.

He couldn't contain his moans. Deep. Vocal in those short moments. Dragging it out as he finally stilled, his length pulsing and spilling into your walls. Your breathing hitched as you came, eyes closing shut as your opened your mouth to a silent scream, riding into your orgasm which evidently squeezed him to pump out what was left into you. The warmth filled you up. And he filled you up good.

He kept himself there. The two of you riding your highs down. Faces flushed. Lust falling. Catching breaths.

Your eyes fluttered open to meet his own doe ones. Boring into you. Where your heart jolts. You couldn't help it. "I fucking hate you. I fucking missed you."

A dry chuckle escaped him. His lower lip jutting out. You feel his semen drip down your inner thigh, leaving you shuddering at the warmth of it distinctly different from his skin against you.

"Me too, cariño." He breathes against your jaw. Your heart swells for all the wrong reasons.

And then—his phone buzzes on the floor with his jeans pooled at his ankles.

Carlos freezes.

The sound shatters whatever spell was holding you together.

His phone vibrates again, and you both know who it is.

Reality crashes over you like a tidal wave.

Carlos steps back slowly, his arms holding you as he gently, almost regrettably, shifting himself out of you. You feel more of him drip down you now, your core twitching. God, that was so fucking deliciously filthy. He curses lowly. Your neck now exposed making you shiver.

Your throat tightens. “You should probably get that.” You unhook your leg from him, shuddering as you braced yourself against the wall and reached for your jeans as he reached for his shirt next.

As he buttons his shirt, he cleared his throat, gaze shifting away as he finally answered the call. "¿Sí, mi vida?" He outwardly flinched.

Your heart shattered. It shouldn't. Why the fuck–?

"Took a while in the toilet. I'm on my way now."

What a fucking lie. An easy one at that.

His lips part, like he wants to say something. Apologize. Explain. Promise you something you know he won’t keep.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he swallows hard, shoves his hands in his pockets, and nods.

You force a smile, ignoring the way your heart aches. “Take care, Carlos.” You whisper.

His eyes darken. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like this is the last time.”

You hesitate. Then, softly, “Isn’t it?”

Carlos looks at you, really looks at you, like he’s trying to carve the image of you into his mind.

Then, without another word, he turns and walks away. His jaw tensed. His doe eyes intense. Drinking you in all over. As though it was the last time. Perhaps it truly is. Is it?

Without another word, he spun around and walked away, raking his hand over his hair to tame it - removing any telltale signs of his endeavor.

You crossed your arms, hugging yourself. You couldn't think. Not right now. But you knew you couldn't go back in anymore. Instead, you walked out of the alleyway towards the car park and headed towards your car.

[starving-mimi]

copies

and now as a sidenote, it's time for mimi rambling/ PSA ! (which might sounds dickish here and there)

I've seen an absolute sudden increase in "daily [characters] blog"[which consist, for those who don't know, of drawing a certain character or thing everyday (or trying to)] and as somebody who's been posting daily for over 2 years (if you ignore small breaks i took on rarer occasion here and there) I feel like I'm in a position where I can say things about these kinds of blogs.

if you're the owner of one of these kind blogs or think about making one, this message's for you

to current owners of such blogs:

do not FORCE yourself to draw/post everyday, much less MULTIPLE TIMES a day

even though it's the goal of these kinds of blogs, do not tell yourself that just because it has DAILY in the name, you NEED to post everyday. Use queue if needed, don't post if you don't feel like it.

You're going to burnout sooo quickly if you just draw slop because you don't want to skip a day, no one LIKES slop posts made just to fill in the day, trust me, i have many! No one is going to hunt you down for forgetting a day or even mention it to you or anything! (or at worse if you know you'll have a period of innactivity, make a post about it to your followers that you can later delete if you really want)

Don't try answering requests as soon as possible just because you don't want to "disappoint" people or whatever! you owe people nothing, and especially not a "quick reply", again, you'll burn out if you force yourself into doing people's request

also this might be more of a personal opinion, but, please keep it to posting once a day (or like twice if absolutely needed), if you're just going to post a ton a day, might as well just post to a main where you just so happen to also post daily (also lazier posts made only because you want to rush multiple drawings every day are just bruh.)

to people considering making one of these blogs:

honestly, don't. You want to challenge yourself into drawing everyday? Do that on your main blog! You have too many doodles/art and want to post it all? Post it on your main! Don't put yourself under the limitations of having a blog specifically for DAILY posting, especially for a SINGLE character. Even if you love a character, you WILL get bored/burned out/just out of ideas for what to even draw with only ONE character

Sure it's cool and everyone else is doing it, but you're also putting yourself under unnecessary stress and limits. Not only your art, but yourself will suffer of these limits eventually

You trust and know yourself enough to know you WILL post daily on that blog? AND won't let it take so much over your life and schedule that you feel terrible when you don't post/decide to abandon it? Then make one, who am i to stop you ig

You wanna make one on a whim because everyone else is doing it and it looks fun? But you don't know if you're going to actually hold up to posting everyday? Yet again, don't. Don't make one. Just post on your account, let people know you by your username, not because of some gimmick (like I mean, ppl know me as (starving-)mimi, not as "daily dst funny" or whatever, do you really want to be only known as "that person who draws [character] everyday" and not as yourself? If you do then ig go make one, but I think it's much nicer to be recognised for who you are than to be just known as "that person who draws a character daily")

tl;dr: don't put yourself under the curse of silly daily posting on a whim just because everyone else is doing it and it's the current trend, and don't post slop art just because you don't want to skip a day POST SLOP BECAUSE YOU WANNA TORTURE PEOPLE WITH IT BHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA cough, i mean. cough.

this might all seems very obvious, but i think people don't realise that daily posting isn't always as fun as it seems :')

TL;DR FOR THE TL;DR post daily cuz you got too much stuff to post that is just too good to all dump in a single post, not just because everyone else is doing it and you find the people daily posting cool and want to get in on the trend

[sanccharine]

02 | first sight

single parent au, neighbours au 

pairing: single parent!san x reader   genre:  word count: 2.3k

warnings: swearing, parents could be pushy, also mentions of the cheating

summary: 

status: ongoing  a/n: really wanted to get this out so here it is. that being said, to any new people to this account, i suck at schedules so please do not expect timely posts on this series, love and peace on planet earth <3

masterlist | chapter 1 | chapter 3

“Hey.”

“Hey, hey—oh, sweetheart, we can’t see your face?” 

Well, yeah. You had your phone facing the ground. 

Biting down the groan, you looked around to locate the switch to turn on the living room lights. “Just give me a second, I’m doing something, I’ll just—” 

Fingers barely scraping the edge of the light switch, you turned on your knees, almost standing up at full height when you turned on the switch. The perks of earning money and designing the home you wanted was the fact that you installed dimmer lights. A warm welcoming amber slowly washed over the room, lighting up everything you hoped you wouldn’t see until tomorrow’s sunlight reminded you.

Moving boxes. Lone boxcutter. Discarded clothes. 

With a sigh, you took your place back on the floor and reached for your phone. 

“There you are!” your dad basically screamed, forcing you to push your phone far away from you and spam the volume button to lower the noise. 

“Here I am,” you groaned as you brought the phone back to show your face. 

You look like shit. 

“You look like shit,” your dad said, only to receive a smack from your mother. “What, it's true! Are you not eating? You look like you’ve lost weight. Is that husband of yours not feeding you—!”

His face blurred as the phone was yanked away from him and instead replaced by your mother’s face. 

“Not husband,” you joked as usual, though now more sardonic than ever before. 

“Yet,” your father added as he shoved himself back into the screen. 

For a man who could barely tell the difference between granulated sugar and powdered salt, you’re not surprised his poor observational skills extended to being unable to read the room. Or just identify emotions, for that matter. 

“That’s enough,” your mother said, standing up and moving away to another room but not before throwing your father a pointed glare. Your father protested, but he was far too lazy to actually follow your mother, so his voice died out when the door closed. With a similar sigh to you, your mother seated herself on your childhood bed. “Why are you on the floor, sweetheart?” 

If your father was as perceptive as a distracted toddler, then your mother was the exact opposite. 

Attempting to steer away from her question would be futile. 

With another sigh, you admitted. “I’m just tired I guess.” 

She pursed her lips. You could guess what she would say, but was stopping herself as you had asked her to do. At least one of your parents attempted to understand your boundaries and requests. 

Why don’t you buy a car?

“Why don’t you lie down on your bed?” 

That’s not a better question but you couldn’t fault her, she didn’t know your situation. Mentally shaking away your desire to whine, you answered truthfully. Or at least as truthfully as you could without revealing what just happened. 

“I don’t know, I just find the floor comforting I guess,” you attempted a small chuckle. It felt forced even to your ears. 

“You still haven’t set up the bed, have you,” she angled her question as a statement, if only to attempt to join in on your poor excuse. 

“No, I haven’t,” your words trailed off at the end, you couldn’t carry the light tone. Should you have said ‘we’?

“Did your fiancé not help?” 

You couldn’t look your mother in the eye. Instead, you stared past your phone and at the gray slacks on the floor. 

Your mother hummed a note of question before moving on. “Please set it up over the weekend, sweetheart.”

“I will.” You will. 

“I’ll let you go now. Eat dinner please before you go to sleep, order something if you have to,” she said, reading you as easily as a children’s tale. “Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you.”

Mumbling your ‘I love you’ back, you cut the call and dropped your phone to the floor. 

Dinner. Sleep. Work. Then the weekend. 

One more day before you could let yourself shatter into a million unidentifiable pieces that could never be put back together. One more day. 

You barely slept. The couch wasn’t exactly made for sleeping. And breakfast was a cereal bar you found at the back of your cupboard. It will have to do. 

Making sure you were somewhat presentable for a nine-hour shift, you exited your apartment. 

Just as you stepped out, you caught a glimpse of the person living opposite you. The briefest of images since he was turned away from you. The most striking feature being his broad back nearly covering the width of the door. His hair was a black tousled mess and matchingly he was dressed head to toe in black. Though, what startled you was his greeting. 

“Good morning,” his voice was low, soft, still groggy from sleep. And with that, he was in his apartment and locking his door. 

You stood at your door for a second, a hand on your door handle, the door waiting to be closed so it can automatically lock your apartment. Darting your gaze up and down the corridor, you come to the conclusion he was talking to you. So you did what anyone would do.

“Uh, morning,” although your greeting was to an empty door. 

Well, at least now you couldn’t say you never interacted with your neighbour. 

Shaking away your confusion, you made your way to the elevator and walked to the bus stop near your block. It was a short walk so the interaction was fresh in your mind. Though not for long. 

“Good morning!” a cheery tone greeted you, as you came to a stop by the bus station. You knew that voice.

In an instant, you were looking to your left. It was the young girl from last night!

“Nice to see you again,” she smiled at you, all wide and chipper. 

This time around her hair was in two braids on the other side of her face, tied up with carefully crafted purple ribbons. You doubted the bows would last the school day, though they did look adorable. Her school bag was almost more than half her size and you noticed the patterns of dinosaurs. They were hand-drawn, cartoon-like, so the dinosaurs looked a bit goofy, you supposed, but identifiable nonetheless. And the colours… were colourful, for sure, but the only thing that matters was that she likes it. So purple and dinosaurs are a favourite. Cute. 

The young girl was also holding a carry bag with containers of… cupcakes.  

“Uh, yeah, morning, kid,” you stammered much like you did with your neighbour. “Nice to see you too.”

“Did you sleep well?” she asked without missing a beat and you couldn't help but look around to check if she was still talking to you. 

No, not at all.

“Yeah, decent. You?” you asked out of politeness, still facing the road. 

“Could’ve been better, to be honest,” she chuckled to herself. “I think my father is more exhausted though.” 

“Oh, is that so?” What were you doing?

“Yeah, we were up all night making cupcakes! He stayed up much later though,” She shook the bag in her hands. Alright, they were cupcakes. 

“Oh,” you repeated as you stalled for a way to converse with a child. “Nice.” 

“Would you like to try one?” She was already reaching into her bag and opening the container. 

“Oh, no! No, it’s okay, you don’t have to—”

“Here you go, I designed this one!” 

Extending her hand, you saw the beautiful cupcake she picked out. The icing was a harmony of delicate purples, pinks, and blues. They were piped to a precision that only a steady hand could bring, the design formed a flower… the name of which slipped your mind. 

“They’re hydrangea cupcakes, because, you know,” the girl said, wiggling the cupcake in front of you like some bait. “Do they look like them?” 

You stared at the cupcake, then at her and nodded. Hydrangeas, yeah, those. 

“That’s good, I worked really hard to learn how to pipe them,” she giggled before pushing the cupcake closer to you. 

Now, would you be an asshole to reject her? 

Thinking of how to navigate this social situation, you were reminded of last night. That same smile of hers and her near-perfect manners. 

“Listen, kid, about last night,” you started, still only looking at the treat. “I hope I didn’t freak you out or—”

“No worries, I know you were only concerned for me,” she nodded, urging you to take the cupcake. “Please take it, as a thank you. My father also appreciated it.”

“Alright,” you shifted your laptop bag in your hand before taking the cupcake with an awkward smile. 

The girl just stared at you, waiting… right.

With another brief smile, you peeled the cupcake sheet to take a bite. 

Maybe it was the fact that you craved sugar from all your stress. Or perhaps the fact that you had a questionable breakfast. But the cupcake was absolutely divine. It took all of your strength not to shove the cupcake into your mouth and gulp it down. The icing was a bit too sweet for your taste, but the sponge cake balanced it out.

Gulping down a bite, you nodded. “So good.” 

Her smile widened, that sparkle in her eyes returning again and you couldn’t help but share that smile with her. Something about her carefreeness alleviated the burning in your chest. A brief reprieve from the shitshow that is your life, but a reprieve nonetheless. 

“What are you making cupcakes for?” you asked, a genuine curiosity laced in your small voice before taking another bite.

“We have a bake sale today, so,” she shuffled her bag in her hand, though only slightly so as to not mess up the treats. 

You frowned, reaching into your pocket as you asked, “hold on, should I be paying you?”

“Oh, no! No, like I said, this is a gift,” she shook her head when she saw you pull out your wallet. 

“You sure? I don’t mind,” you said, rooting to pull out some notes. “How much?”

“Seriously, it’s alright,” she grinned, pink tinting her round cheeks. She was so adorable that you felt bad for getting a free cupcake, but you doubted she’d take your money. 

Nodding, you put away your wallet before turning back to the road, both of you patiently waiting by the bus stop for your respective buses. It was so early in the morning, that the sky had barely lightened. You travelled early to beat the rush of the trains. The last thing you needed was being smushed next to other people and tolerating their presence first thing in the morning. 

Pausing your internal grumbling, you turned to the little girl and frowned. “Kid.”

She craned her neck to look up at you, a hum as her response. 

“Why are you up this early?” you asked, it was a fair question considering there were only two other students at the bus stop. A young boy and a girl, though they wore different uniforms. Surely, these buses can’t be arriving so early for these kids. 

“My school is quite far,” she said, her demeanour dimming just slightly. “So I’m the first to be picked up and last to be dropped.” 

Well, that was some terrible luck. 

“When does school start?”

“We have to be in the homeroom by seven forty-five.”

It was just about six-thirty.

“That is…” Fucked is the word you’d like to use, but you doubt that's appropriate language to use with a child. “That—That sounds awful.”

“It really is,” she agreed but then shrugged, easily shaking off her fleeting somberness. “But it gives me time to catch up on my sleep!” 

Well, that’s a positive spin. And it works considering she didn’t need to be concerned about missing her stop. 

“Fair enough,” you nodded and turned back to the road. Your bus should be here soon. 

Another silence banketed the pair of you, before your bus pulled into a stop. 

“Good luck with your sale, kid,” you mumble, before adding, “and thanks for the cupcake.” 

Her grin widened, pushing up her rosy cheeks further. It was almost cherub-like. Were kids always this adorable? That can’t be. 

“Thanks, have a good day!” she waved as you climbed in and took a seat. 

She was still waving when the bus pulled away from the stop. 

Of course, you were aware that this would happen but unfortunately, you did not see the young girl later that day. Probably because she returned home way earlier than you did. You hoped her sale went well, and considering her delicious goodies, you were sure she had no problems raking in the cash. 

Somewhat motivated about the weekend, you took a ten-minute break on your couch to ease the pain in your back before starting to clean. The first chore to tackle was the many many bags of take-out that should’ve been discarded a long time ago. Grabbing two bags in each hand to make this a one-time trip, you waddled your way out of your apartment. The garbage chute was only to the right around the corner. 

Just as you were struggling to bring your tired fingers to grab the door handle, the door opened towards you. Stepping back, you shifted your bags to a more comfortable position, waiting for the person to step out. But instead of simply leaving, the person stayed, holding the door for you. 

“Good evening,” they said. Low and delicate. You knew that voice. No longer slow from grogginess anymore. 

And much like in the morning, you fumbled your words. What is with the residents of this building?

“Uh, thanks—and yeah, good evening to you too,” you couldn’t have sounded more reluctant. You stepped into the garbage room as you spoke, pointedly avoiding looking at your neighbour. 

“No problem,” is all he said, before letting the door close after him. You turned in time just to catch his profile, his eyes scrunched shut with a small upward curve at the corner of his lips. 

Was he laughing at you?

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: hey chat realistically how long does it take to get over a breakup HFKJSDF

masterlist | chapter 1 | chapter 3

taglist: @eternallyghosting

[deepinthegroves]

what i've learnt about shifting and manifestation while playing a board game:

disclaimer: i was playing around with reality while playing a board game because i figured that a board game was inconsequential and one of the best places to test things out and analyse them. i apologise if this is really long because it'd have my analysis alongside it.

the one and only thing that i've taken away from this is that shifting and manifestation are easy, and that i shouldn't overcomplicate it. i mean, that's clear. it's told to us again and again on shiftblr. so why am i making this post? i'm going to give examples of how i overcomplicated things and how it affected my manifestation/ shifting, and what to do instead.

exhibit #1: i repeated affirmations again and again in my head and it did NOT manifest. there is nothing wrong with using affirmations to manifest, nor am i saying it doesn't work, but in my case, i was laser focused on affirming again and again and it felt like i was forcing reality to bend. why does that matter? for example, when i was manifesting for the password to be 2, my brain twisted it and assumed that the "original" reality's password was something else, and that i was changing it to 2. so when i tried to open the vault, the password was NOT 2 because i was assuming that it was NOT 2 and i was trying to change it.

exhibit #2: i focused on imagining how it'd be if i got the password right and opened the vault, and yet it did not open. again, not saying this will 100% not work for others, just explaining where i went wrong. when i did that, i was thinking "IF i'm right, this is how it'd feel." which made my assumption that i was indeed wrong about the password, and so reality showed me that assumption.

so what should we do instead to not make the mistakes I made? take a step back (and i know this is difficult, especially when you have a lot riding on your manifestation). instead of trying to force it, entertain the notion. play with it. laugh to yourself at the possibility. wouldn't it be fun and great if it happened? imagine if it happened! take the weight off of it and your brain won't have the need to spiral over it. know that it is easy and that it is yours. that's all. accept that. know that you have it and that it indeed will happen as you say. manifestation done. you have shifted. full stop. that all happens the moment you decide it did, and there's no need for any other overcomplication.

other notes: i was playing monopoly secret vault, if anyone's curious. oh and i won the game. this may be more rambling than anything else...

[fidesvirtusobsession]

Wedding dresses

Yandere Bodyguard x Influencer Reader

Caden would not be ready for this.

Y/N (spinning in front of the camera, the lace of the old wedding dress flowing around her): Okay, guys! So I found a bunch of old wedding dresses at this thrift store, and I thought—why not fix them up and give them a second life? But first, let’s try them on!!

She strikes a dramatic pose before bursting into laughter, adjusting the too-long sleeves. Her team cheers her on from behind the camera, hyping her up.

Caden, who had just walked into the room expecting chaos (as usual), stops dead in his tracks. His usual unimpressed expression falters. He blinks once. Then twice.

What. The. Hell.

His brain short-circuits for a second because Y/N—his annoying, chaotic, impulsive job—is standing there in a wedding dress.

It shouldn’t mean anything. It’s just fabric. A thrifted dress. A silly video.

And yet—his chest tightens.

Y/N notices him standing there, frozen, and grins. “Cade! What do you think? Do I look like a runaway bride?” She lifts the hem of the dress dramatically, pretending to flee. “Quick! Someone cue the dramatic rom-com music!”

Caden clears his throat, forcing himself to snap out of whatever weird trance he was in. “You look ridiculous.”

But his voice is a little rougher than usual.

Y/N pouts, placing her hands on her hips. “Excuse you! I am serving vintage, romantic, elegant—”

“You’re tripping over the skirt.”

“Okay, fair, but—”

She doesn’t notice how he’s still standing there, arms crossed, his jaw tight.

He should walk away. But he doesn’t.

His eyes flicker over her again—at the way the dress, despite being oversized and needing alterations, still makes her look softer. At the way her usual chaotic energy is momentarily replaced by something almost... dreamy.

One of her teammates nudges her. “You should totally try veils next.”

Caden immediately turns on his heel and walks out.

Nope. Absolutely not.

He needs a break. And maybe a cold shower.

@yourhornysister

[eeerrrrewsd]

What Did you Expect?

Bruce Wayne x Reader – Angst, Heartbreak, Hidden Feelings

You should have known better.

You did know better.

But that didn’t stop it from hurting.

Didn’t stop the cold weight settling in your chest, the way your breath felt too shallow, too tight, as Bruce—ever composed, ever unreadable Bruce—looked at you like you were being ridiculous.

Like he hadn’t made you believe in something.

Like he hadn’t let you fall.

You swallowed, hating the way your voice wavered. “Is that really all I am to you?”

Bruce exhaled sharply.

Not irritated. Not angry.

Just tired.

And somehow, that was worse.

“What did you expect?” His voice was flat, unreadable. “This?” He gestured vaguely between you, like it meant nothing. “This was never—” He cut himself off, jaw tightening.

You felt like you’d been punched.

Like something inside you had cracked so deeply it might never heal.

Because you had hoped.

And that was the worst mistake you could’ve made with a man like Bruce Wayne.

Your throat burned, but you refused to let him see. Refused to let him know just how deeply he had gutted you.

You forced a smile, sharp and bitter. “God, you really are a piece of work.”

Bruce’s expression didn’t change.

Didn’t crack.

Of course it didn’t.

Because he was always like this.

Always one step ahead.

Always keeping his distance.

Always hiding.

But you knew better.

Knew that beneath all of that was a man who felt too much—a man who cared too much—but was too much of a coward to admit it.

And that? That made you furious.

“You can’t even say it, can you?” Your voice was trembling now, and you hated it, but you couldn’t stop. “You can’t even admit that you—”

“Don’t.”

Bruce’s voice was sharper now, colder, his eyes dark and warning.

And that—that—was what made you break.

Because he wasn’t lying.

Not really.

Not out loud.

But you had always been good at reading between the lines.

At hearing the things Bruce wouldn’t say.

And this?

This was him begging you not to say it.

Not to force him to confront the truth.

Because the truth would destroy him.

And maybe—just maybe—you weren’t cruel enough to do that.

Not yet.

You inhaled sharply, blinking hard.

And then, with one last look—one last chance for him to fix this—you turned and walked away.

Bruce didn’t stop you.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Not until you were gone.

And only then—only then—did his hands curl into fists, his throat tightening around words he could never say.

[nanamineedstherapy]

Ooga Booga Toji gets Hunted

Previous Chapter: Ooga Booga Sukuna gets Reverse Bonked (Tumblr/Ao3)

Summary: Prehistoric, period-accurate Neanderthal JJK daddies courting you with grunts, rocks, & zero verbal communication. Just prehistoric buffoonery. A/N: BRO. LISTEN. You ever just wake up & think, what if Toji was a little cavewife? What if he was bonked over the head like a prehistoric Looney Tunes character & dragged into domestic life against his will? What if a woman looked at him & went yes, I will be taking this like she was picking out a melon at the market? I am here to answer these questions. This fic is 90% brain damage & 10% actual words. Please enjoy Himbo Toji Arc. As usual, => This is a different reader, but the same Toji—unfortunately for you. => No suggestive bits in this one. => This is Toji’s chapter, but Gojo, Sukuna & Nanami are also here. Next chapter will be for Suguru, hopefully in a day or two. The other guys are getting their solo stories, with guest appearances in each other’s on a regular. So I recommend reading all of them, but I can’t force you to make good life choices.

Fushiguro Toji is used to chasing.

He chases mammoths.

He chases sabertooths.

He chases Gojo (his natural prey).

He is not used to being chased.

And yet, here he is.

Being hunted.

By you.

It’s been days. Everywhere he goes, you appear.

At first, he thinks he’s imagining things.

Shadows in the trees. Strange footprints in the mud.

A weird feeling of being watched.

But then—

He sees you.

Crouched behind a bush. Unblinking. Staring.

The next day? You are closer.

The next night? He wakes up to find you squatting near his fire.

Watching.

No blink. No sound.

Just raw, feral focus.

Toji feels fear for the first time in his life.

He grunts. (What want?)

You stay unmoving, unanswering.

Toji’s heart stops.

It’s terrifying.

It’s confusing.

It’s starting to do things to him.

(Things he doesn’t want to think about. Things that make him grunt angrily and punch rocks to feel manly again.)

---

At dawn, he sneaks away from the tribe. Takes only his spear.

Travels far.

Through forest. Over rivers. Past rival tribe (he still punches Gojo on way).

At some point in the night, Toji stops to drink water.

Then he hears it.

Twig snap!!!

He looks up.

You.

Squatting. Staring. Again.

Like a cursed cave goblin.

Toji almost chokes on his own spit.

You have been tracking him. Following his scent. Watching him from the trees like some squirrel.

Toji doesn’t know why.

Doesn’t know if you want to mate him or murder him.

(Both are possibilities.)

You grin.

Then you jump.

Toji dodges. Fast. He’s the best hunter in the tribe.

But you’re faster.

Rock swings. Toji barely avoids it.

You grunt. (Tsk. Fast.)

Toji tries to fight back.

Tries to assert dominance.

You only grin wider.

Toji’s heart beats wrong.

Then—

BONK!!!

Rock hits skull.

World goes dark.

---

When he wakes up—head throbbing, vision blurry—he is in a cave.

Not his cave.

Your cave.

He is not tied up, but he might as well be.

You are blocking the exit.

And watching him.

Like a feral animal guarding its prize.

Toji grunts. (Let me go.)

You grunt back. (No.)

Toji try push past.

You grab his jaw. Inspect.

Toji freezes.

Oh.

Oh no.

This is how he inspects meat.

You are checking his quality.

Like he is a fucking rabbit.

Toji snarl. (I NOT RABBIT.)

You pat his cheek. (Good strong mate.)

Toji’s instincts scream.

He is prey now.

---

Toji tries to leave.

You drag him back.

Toji refuses to eat food.

You shove it in his mouth.

Toji chokes. Gags. Tries spit it out.

You glare.

Toji chews.

You pat his head. (Good boy.)

Toji stares at wall. Existential crisis.

---

Toji wakes up to the worst thing imaginable.

He is being scrubbed.

Like some mangy, flea-infested stray.

In the river.

By you.

Toji snarls. Fights. Thrashes like a cornered beast.

Bites your arm.

You bonk him.

Toji goes limp.

You do not care.

You hold him down. Scrub harder.

At some point, he stops fighting. Sits there. Pouting.

You click your tongue. (Stinky mate.)

Toji glares. Growls. Does his best to look scary. (He is not scary. He is wet.)

Then—

Laughter.

Toji turns.

Gojo.

That damn bastard is sitting right next to him—also being scrubbed by his own mate.

Grinning at Toji.

Mocking.

Enjoying his suffering.

Toji sees red.

He lunges.

You grab his face.

Shove him back. Push him underwater.

Toji comes up, sputtering. Furious. Drenched.

Gojo?

Cackling.

It is horrible.

It is humiliating.

It is—

Effective.

Because one day?

Toji just... stops fighting.

---

Now, he sits by fire.

Eats willingly.

Watches you.

Eyes narrowed.

You grunt. (Good mate.)

Toji exhales. Defeated.

But when you leave the cave to hunt?

He does not run.

Not because he is weak.

Not because you broke him.

But because...

The food is good.

The furs are warm.

And you are kind of hot.

Oh.

Oh no.

HE LIKES THIS.

Toji sighs. Stares at his hands.

Instead of running—

He sharpens your spear.

---

One day, you return to the cave.

Toji is... rearranging the furs.

You grunt. (What doing?)

He grunts back. (Making cave better. You live like animal.)

You tilt head. (Good mate.)

Toji grumbles.

But does not deny it.

---

Later, he carves mammoth figurine.

Leaves it by your sleeping spot.

You find it. Grin.

Toji pretends not to notice.

That night?

You return from hunt.

Drop fresh kill at his feet.

Toji smirks.

(Good hunter,) he grunts.

You nod.

And just like that—

The best hunter in the tribe becomes the best house-husband in the valley.

---

The next day, Sukuna is also suffering.

He sits by river.

Scowling. Wet.

Across from him, Toji and Gojo. Also wet.

They exchange knowing looks.

They understand now.

There is no escaping this fate.

Sukuna growls. Crosses arms. Refuses to look at his own mate.

She clicks her tongue.

Sukuna bares teeth. Hisses.

She grabs his face. Scrubs harder.

Gojo snickers.

Sukuna swings.

Gets grabbed. Dunked underwater.

Emerges. Coughing. Furious. Betrayed by gods.

Toji shakes head. (Stop fighting. No win.)

Sukuna glares.

Will never stop fighting.

Will never—

---

Later.

Nanami passed by, smugly carring his laughing mate on his back like a monkey.

Sukuna sits by the tribe fire. Pouting.

He has been fed.

Dried.

His hair braided.

His mate hums.

He grumbles.

Sharpens her spear.

Toji and Gojo sigh in solidarity.

They all stare into the flames.

The fire of their lost freedom.

The era of wild, untamed men is over.

Now they are simply... husbands.

---

Toji wakes up to the smell of smoke.

This is not unusual. Caves are smoky. Fire is life.

What is unusual?

He is hanging upside down.

Like a slaughtered deer in a butcher’s hut.

Like some offering to gods.

Like some sacrificial goat.

Feet tied together with vines.

Dangling from a tree branch.

Swaying gently.

Toji blinks.

Toji processes.

Toji sees you.

Crouched by fire.

Sharpening a flint knife. Humming.

Toji’s entire soul malfunctions.

He howls. (What the—)

Thrashes. Swings like an overgrown fruit.

Branch creaks.

You look up. Squint. Grunt. (Squirmy meat.)

Toji freezes.

Meat?

Did you just say meat?

Have you been grunting ‘meat’ instead of ‘mate’ this whole time and it got lost in translation???

NO. NO NO NO.

He needs to leave. Now.

You stand. Walk over.

Sniff him.

You poke his bicep.

Squeeze his asscheeks.

Punch his thigh. (OW.)

You nod. Satisfied.

Give an approving grunt. (Good meat. Strong. Juicy.)

Had you been raring him like cattle this whole time, feeding him, bathing him? Just to cut him down.

Toji’s survival instincts start playing the drums. ( WAIT. STOP. NO MEAT. AM MATE. )

You pause. (Mate?)

(YES. MATE.)

You frown.

(But... meat.)

(NO. MATE.)

You tilt your head, considering.

(Mate... better than meat?)

(YES. MATE BETTER.)

Silence.

You stare at him. Deep in thought.

Too much thought.

Toji doesn't have time for contemplation.

His ass is burning.

His entire back is roasting over the fire.

With a snarl, he flexes, yanks, snaps the branch clean in half, and lands—

Right on his ass.

He groans. Grumbles. Rubs his tailbone.

(Crazy mate,) he grunts.

You squat next to him.

Poke his cheek and grunt.

(Mate strong. Mate fast. Mate... pretty.)

Toji bluescreens. (Pretty???)

You nod. (Pretty.)

Toji stares into the void, grits teeth. Refuses to blush.

Fails.

This is not how he expected his day to go.

---

Now Toji is in charge.

He builds a bigger fire.

Skins the boar.

Roasts the meat perfectly.

You watch.

Silently.

Eyes narrowed.

Toji feels the weight of your stare.

The burning intensity.

Toji has been watched many ways before.

Never like this.

Not with the focused hunger of a woman planning long-term investment.

You grunt. (Good hunter.)

Toji smirks. Hands you food.

You accept.

Chew. Nodding.

You grunt. (Mate strong. Mate smart. Mate... good cook.)

Toji leans closer. (Yes. Good mate.)

Your gaze flicks to his jawline.

To his biceps.

Back to the meat in his hands.

Something about seeing him like this—half-naked, covered in soot, feeding you—

You grunt. (Very pretty mate.)

Toji coughs.

Adjusts his sitting position.

Avoids your very direct gaze.

Keeps his eyes on the fire.

For the first time in his life—

Toji does not know if he is the hunter or the hunted.

---

Toji is happy.

He was hunted. He was bonked. He was stolen.

But now? Now he loves it.

At first, Toji resisted. He was a man of instinct, survival, and brute strength. But then he saw you—wild, unhinged, terrifying. You cracked him over the head with a rock, dragged him back to your cave, and called it mating.

He adapted. Now he thrives.

Because Toji is a smug bastard.

And you? You are insane.

When Toji walks through the tribe, he is unbearable.

Every time some poor excuse of a man dares to look his way, he flashes his big, sharp teeth like a trophy display.

"Yes. My mate chose me."

"Yes. My mate strong."

"Yes. My mate will birth strong cubs."

And if any of those weaklings so much as glance at you for too long?

Toji growls. Deep. Menacing. (She is mine. You weak. I kill you.)

This is a problem.

Not because of the men.

But because of the women.

The first time a woman dared look at Toji for too long, you did not hesitate.

You picked up a rock.

And launched it.

The woman barely dodged. Screamed. Ran.

Toji blinked. Then tilted his head, watching you with interest. Your eyes were wild. He grinned.

This happens again. And again.

Woman look? You grunt. (No.)

You pick rock.

You throw rock.

Woman scream. Dodge. Run.

Toji watches, deeply amused.

He looks at you. Sees the crazy in your eyes.

His grin widens.

It keeps happening.

Woman look? You throw rock.

Woman talk near Toji? You chase with stick.

One woman touches his arm?

Oh.

Oh, you tackle.

You growl. Show teeth.

The woman cries.

Toji loves this.

Whenever you chase women away, he puffs out his chest. Stands taller. Grunts at the other men with smug satisfaction. "My mate insane. Yours could never."

Nanami, watching this unfold daily, finally mutters, “You need to control mate.”

Toji, watching you prepare another rock-throwing attack: “Why would I do that?”

You throw rock at Nanami.

Nanami dodges.

Then notices his mate doing the exact same thing—chasing Toji’s mate around with a burning stick.

Nanami tries to hide his smile.

Fails miserably.

---

Eventually, the chief steps in.

Because too many women have fled.

Because you have almost killed three.

Because everyone is terrified.

The chief grunts. (No more. No more crazy mate.)

Toji grunts back. (Why?)

Chief grunts harder. (Too many women cry.)

Toji, picking his teeth lazily, grunts back. (No.)

The chief’s brow twitches, he howls. (If she does it again, you both leave the tribe.)

Toji shrugs. Looks at you.

You grin.

And throw another rock.

Directly at chief Yaga.

The chief glares.

Picks up his spear to chase you both.

Toji smirks, grabs your waist, lifts you onto his shoulder.

And runs back to your cave with record speed.

And that is how Toji and his insane mate almost got kicked out of the tribe.

Toji, grinning the entire time. (My mate best.)

Toji happy.

---

A/N: Alright, tell me the truth.

Choose wisely. History will judge you. (Drop your answer in the comments or I will throw a rock at you.)

Next Chapter: Ooga Booga Suguwu gets mated to Female Mowgli after Neanderthal BL Betrayal (Tumblr/Ao3)

All Works Masterlist

[luvst4rc0r3]

Ambessa and reader having a fight?

PT.2

The argument had started small—just a disagreement, a difference in approach. But now, it was something else entirely. Something uglier, something raw.

The room was silent except for your heavy breathing, the lingering echoes of raised voices still thick in the air. Ambessa stood before you, imposing as ever, but there was something in her eyes—a warning, a challenge. And beneath it, something else, something you weren’t sure you wanted to name.

“You are being reckless,” she said, voice low but sharp, like a blade against your throat. “Charging into things without thinking. It will get you killed.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “And what, you think you get to decide what’s too dangerous for me? That’s rich, coming from you.”

Ambessa’s expression didn’t change, but her shoulders squared slightly, her fingers flexing at her sides. A warrior preparing for battle.

“War and foolishness are not the same thing,” she said.

You let out a bitter laugh, but it came out more like a breathless, exhausted sound. “Oh, but I’m the fool here, right?” Your voice cracked, and you hated it. Hated how small you felt next to her, how your words felt like they were hitting a wall, like she had already decided she was right and that was the end of it.

“I did not say that,” she replied, measured, calm—too calm.

You stepped closer, heart pounding. “You don’t have to.”

Ambessa exhaled slowly, as if trying to keep control of herself. “This is not about control,” she said. “This is about keeping you alive.”

Your lips parted, but the words wouldn’t come at first. Because you knew what you wanted to say, but the weight of it was suffocating.

Then, finally—

“And what if I don’t need you to protect me?”

Silence.

Ambessa stared at you, unreadable, immovable. Then, after a long pause, she said, “Then I suppose I have overestimated your intelligence.”

The words hit harder than any wound she could have given you.

Your breath caught, and you felt it, the sharp sting in your chest, the way something inside you cracked.

Ambessa must have realized it, too, because for a brief second, her mask slipped. Just a fraction, just long enough for regret to flicker across her face.

But she didn’t take it back.

You swallowed hard, looking down for a moment before forcing yourself to meet her gaze again. “I get it now.” Your voice was quiet, but it carried.

Ambessa tilted her head slightly, the closest thing to a question she would allow herself.

You huffed out something that was meant to be a laugh but wasn’t. “You don’t trust me.”

Her jaw tightened.

You inhaled sharply, blinking fast. “I’ve done everything to prove myself to you. I’ve stood by you, I’ve fought beside you, I’ve loved you—and still, you don’t think I can take care of myself.”

Ambessa was silent.

She was always so good at winning. Always so good at knowing exactly what to say, at breaking people down, at turning weakness into strategy. But now, she said nothing.

Because she knew you were right.

You let out a shaky breath, nodding. “You know what? Maybe I am stupid.” You gave her a small, bitter smile. “Because I actually thought this was real. That I was more than just someone you had to manage.”

That made her flinch. Barely. But you saw it.

You turned before you could change your mind, before you could do something pathetic like ask her to say something, to give you a reason to stay.

Ambessa did not stop you.

And somehow, that hurt the most.

You didn’t cry, not yet. But as the door closed behind you, leaving her alone in that cold, quiet room—she did.

I WILL MAKE A PT.2

I WANT FOOD

[tornoleander]

Finally Ironed out some ninja designs! I Usually don’t share references but with the behind the scenes stuff I’m doing on my Skybound project I don’t have much else I can share yet.

There is a few headcanon/ Fic stuff in references and powers and the all ninja shot is for first part of Skybound project.

I can share Skybound project Updates! I’m making lots of progress! Trying to focus on p1 stuff so I can put full force into the p2 stuff!

|

V

P1 may be ready Summer? 2025

My Skybound talk Video:

* God I have so much to ramble about just when I think I covered something a new angle gets me

* How TF am I supposed to sanely transition from the wholesome reasons I love this season into the horribly problem stuff. Sigh*

* Actually studying videos covering serious topics to navigate how to word things.

* I have to stop drawing so much art for everything or no one will ever see this video.

* The desire to animate my character lipsinking to me is an evolutionary disadvantage I will resist.

Cannon compliant Animatic:

* Song is Ironed out fought a while adding voice lines and I’m way more excited than I thought I’d be for this animatic because I thought it would be overshadowed by how strongly I feel about the other 2. But damn.

* I’m storyboarding after like my life depends on it rn

* Really trying to capture Nya’s character Ark which sent me right back to the video script because I remembered that one reddit post calling her a bitch and rage wrote for 2 hours.

* I am determined to make people see how good her character arc actually is.

* Throwing Jay shade in this one lol he was kinda awful even with being manipulated.

* Trying to convey clear Ideas and story through art is pain but also addicting.

* This is meant as a leading to both part two animatics, but bbnb Kai is shorter than wytyaa Kai. The difference is significant everything else pre dinner with Nadakhan is the same. The other head cannons are almost aligned as far as I know. It’s JUST Kai. What do I do with him?!? Lmao Might just distance him from the other ninja so you can’t tell how tall he is. Thank goodness he is the most gullible and first to wish it all away

P2 out like December if I’M lucky TT

Even though I should focus on first things first, I can’t help myself. these fics have lived rent free in my brain for like 2 years and despite plans shifting the excitement of drawing the story I read and put to music in my head is a force of nature. Thanks Adhd

Wytyaa:

* I storyboarded about half the scenes I want to. Songs are decided but a few parts I’m waiting for the rest of the story for.

* I think I’m going to mess with color palette. I really want to capture the emotion and intensity. I’m learning the full potential of my art and

* I need Final ch released for maping out the second half.

* BUT I AM NOT READY TO READ IT @mondothebombo And from what you told me I don’t think I’ll be able to finish P1 by then. cries*

* I wanna capture the feeling reading wytyaa.

* May make my wytyaa specific refs so I can make animatic art I can post early.

Bbnb

* It’s all storyboarded and half animated

* Thinking about redoing most the earlier stuff, consistency has been a problem

* Also was to mess with colors, dark backgrounds and intense colors.

* I fought with my ref forever to find good enough lightning scar colors cause figuring out the right amount of contrast is pain.

* So now I want to redraw my bbnb scar references a third time.

* May draw other bbnb specific refs so I can make some art for the animatic I can post here early or on on my old A03 book

If you have Any questions feel free to leave an ask! I answer all eventually sometimes I do save em up though so if I didn’t answer something yet, Sorry I will get to you.