#anyways ily nonnie

[satoruxx]

are we going to see megumi in toji hybrid au… the dynamic between the three of them would be so cute!! both wolves fighting for readers attention!! baby megumi with small ears and small paws :((

I REFUSE TO SPOIL ANYTHING SO IM IGNORING THE FIRST PART OF YOUR QUESTION BUT ILY :333 (i feel like me ignoring it gives it away tho....rip)

anyways YEAH megumi def inherits toji’s protective ass attitude so you bet he’s taking over when his dad isn’t around.

he's seen his dad walk around with you, the terrifying guard dog on high alert as his green eyes glare at anything that moves near you. megumi has noticed the way people hesitate to approach you bc of toji, and how toji seems to enjoy that. and soon enough megumi understands why—it's a fantastic way to keep you to himself. so absolutely he's gonna follow in his father's footsteps.

except... he's literally too cute to be intimidating <///3 don’t tell him that tho he’s trying so hard to be a big scary wolf like his dad :((

megumi will get grumpy at anyone who has your attention, glaring over your shoulder as you walk through the supermarket if he notices their eyes on you. especially if it’s a man. what can he say, his dad has raised him well. it just…doesn’t usually have the desired effect. most of the time he’s met with soft coos and squeals when he tries to mimic his dad’s aggressive behavior.

(little munchkin with furry ears and pointed teeth.)

it irritates him, because he wants to be like toji in this regard.

but when he’s competing with his dad??? oh all the loyalty is gone. the two of them are always clinging to you, eager for attention like the big puppies they are. megumi has inherited toji's aggresiveness, but he's much more casual about it. even as a lil baby he will find sneaky ways to pull you away from toji, and that just irks the older wolf.

he tries saying anything and you're just like ????? which is exactly what megumi wants LMAO :33

toji just has to sit there and sulk bc obviously gumi is your lil baby and you're gonna show him all the attention he wants. just don't be surprised if your bigger wolf ends up grumpy and brooding—he hates sharing. it's so funny though bc they're both so sneaky so you'll just be caught between their schemes to get you to show them affection.

but whatever. like father like son after all :33

[yandere-yearnings]

happy new years to you too nonnie!! i apologise for being late on the reply myself but thank you for your well wishes, hopefully the new year has started on a good leg for you so far🩷 and thank you for the hugs and kitties, i will treasure them❗️❗️ i love you too🥺💕

i don't think any of them would see it as a test to their masculinity per se, but you'd get varying degrees of push back bc their personalities mean that;

Sun would get flustered. Not only from the close proximity of your face and his when you're trying to get a clean stroke of eyeliner, but just the implication that you think he's pretty enough to doll up. He's standing in front of you and watching your eyes rake over his entire form while figuring out whether you like this outfit or the other better, and he loves the attention as much as it has his stomach in knots from the butterflies.

Depending on how much your envy impacts how you interact with him, you could probably be looking at a breakdown on his end. At your feet, on his knees and apologising — there's tears in his eyes and he's sorry that he has what you want for yourself, he'd give it all to you if he could, pluck out every single eyelash and leave them in your hands with zero hesitation. Sun has this need to be seen that even he doesn't realise, and he'd tear himself apart for it. The minute you start to look at him in the pieces of what he is rather than who he is, an ugly desperation begins to rear its head.

Dice is the type to brush you off if you ever say you want to do something. Asking him if you can put makeup on him, or have him try out clothes for you isn't going to get you any sort of response outside of a three-second deadpan stare. He has a business to run, alcohol to drink, money to gamble — there's no time for you and entertaining your whims.

Not unless you make it.

He's a very big advocate of the concept of taking what you want, so it's only if you wrangle him into a seat and prime his face for some powder, that he'll sit back and let you have your way. Use a little bit of force, throw a dress at him and tell him to wear it and he'll be obedient, he likes to get pushed around. If he catches wind of the fact that you envy him, he'll have the time of his life teasing you about it; he meets your stray glances with a smirk and a 'you just wanna be me so bad, huh?'

Vio would be indifferent to an extent, just because it isn't anything out of the ordinary for him. He's an actor, hair and makeup is his second skin, and he's dressed to the nines on rotation — in fact, if you wanted to quit your job as his manager and switch to a station in his dressing room, he really wouldn't care enough to oppose you. All that being said, since his career has taken the novelty from the activity, it isn't his ideal way to spend quality time with you.

On your envy, honestly, Vio would be more surprised if you weren't jealous of him. You should know better than anyone just how perfect he is, right? It's normal that insecurity will rise if you're around him as frequently as you are, so he doesn't even try to understand its source. It isn't very obvious, and probably comes across conceited like most of the things he says, but he will reassure you in his own way. Just a bit. 'It's stupid. You've got me.' Even if you feel you've got gaps in you, Vio is whole, he can cover all the missing parts.

Laurent never fails to be endeared by the things you propose. When he was younger, his little sisters also employed him as their model, but now he's a thirty-something year old man too roughed up by the world to be considered cute, and there you are with a brush in hand promising to make him prettier. It's amusing, sure, yet more than anything, he is enamoured. There's a peace that washes over him, sitting patiently for you as you gauge what top to make him try on first, all he has to do is follow your lead, and he can't remember the last time he was allowed a luxury like that.

You can be assured that Laurent would never judge you if you told him about feeling envious. If anything, it might just open up the doors for a conversation that he likely needed to have with someone at one point in his life. He's a deeply emotionally-repressed person, the context may differ, but the gnawing of want is more familiar to him than the act of breathing. Looking at someone and thinking, if only I could have what they have... could he be happier? He'd never know. The opportunity to find out was never his to take. Thus, he certainly won't misunderstand you, or think you're coming from a place of mal-intent. If offering up his body for you to take for a spin was an option, he'd have done so in a heartbeat.

[bonnieisaway]

Hi Bonnie, do you have any thoughts about Dai Bo?

do you guys know the sheer dopamine hit i get everytime i'm asked shit like this. like just the fact people want to hear my thoughts enough that people go out of their way to unprompted ask me about it. drugs could not simulate this emotion

i love dai bo :3 certified hardest character to explain to any person i'm introducing to the show fr

ok but fr though i feel like his appearance lets a lot of people forget about how deep his character is and how well written he is. because he's written fucking gloriously and he is shaped by his tramua perfectly. a lot of characters in this show have to confront this sort of cycle of violence and dai bo's is more familial and generational than most other character's. he only fought for his friend's son. and he fought so hard to break the cycle. like he's the most beautiful example of breaking the cycle of violence.

SPECIFICALLY with the scene with king pheasant where he's ready to straight up kill that bitch until he looks over and sees xiao fei. and he realizes that xiao fei does not need to see this. xiao fei will not be shaped the way dai bo was, and the cycle WILL stop with dai bo. and this scene is mirrored when xiao fei and seven are going to hurt king pheasant, where dai bo tells them to leave him alone. where dai bo fights to stop the cycle.

and the way his hatred for humans is shaped by seven. how seven is the perfect person for dai bo to have ever met. the best way to prove to dai bo that humanity has good, has beauty in it; this is a man who remembers NOTHING. not even his own name. if you're watching the show in chinese, he doesn't even speak the same dialect as everybody else around him. and this factory-reset, lump of clay of a person with nothing but his own instincts is so kind and trusting. that's how dai bo learns humans can be good so quickly. not just because seven was so kind and forgiving, but because dai bo realizes seven was inherently BUILT that way. that it was his NATURE itself.

and i love the way he clings to this, too; not even just this version of seven but seven himself. because it's subtle at first, because dai bo is not the kind of person who confronts emotions, but it's noticeable. i have an old post where i pointed it out before he confirmed it in season four; when seven is so amazed and stricken by the view of xuanwu, dai bo instantly dismisses and diminishes it, dai bo is constantly upset when seven leaves without him, dai bo is desperately clinging to the seven he knows and is terrified of seven being forced to return to that cycle of violence that he escaped from.

because like, of course he is! dai bo fought for his friend's son to escape that cycle. so to see this man, who he absolutely sees as his own son, have to return to the cycle of violence, let alone for dai bo's sake, of course it destroys him. of course he wants to cling to him and try and dissuade him; who cares about everybody else, as long as you're home and safe. xuanwu not only symbolizes a home far disconnected from dai bo to seven but in dai bo's eyes it's another massive perpetuator of a violent war. i mean he makes that clear when he explains xuanwu and stan - they are the ones fighting the war, we are the normal, smaller, common folk caught in the middle; shelter yourselves and enjoy your small life here.

but violence is neverending, isn't it? even when dai bo destroyed the chicken farm and the fighting ring, what happened? king pheasant found another perpetuator for his vice in stan. another hamster wheel of violence to spin, a super solider of propoganda and murder. something so much bigger than both of them. but dai bo has to accept that seven is an integral part of this 'bigger than them' bit when it comes to xuanwu. that he has to let go of this idea of an obedient, normal, casual seven. just like accepting your son isn't your little boy anymore, that's a grown man. and aside from the metaphor itself seven is actually at the perfect age for this. seven meets dai bo when he's about 19 and fairly skinny and small, and it's mentioned/implied he's grown a bit since meeting dai bo and we know he's 21 in season four.

anyways i love dai bo. i feel like he's underrated and we need to talk about him more. although sometimes i wanna ask the director like, why specifically dai bo and xiao fei were chickens. was there a meaning or a reason or do you think it was just cause they thought it was funny and also what does this implicate about chickens and pidgeons as a whole in this universe

[ropebunnykant]

to the anon i just got: im not gonna publish your ask because of the last part of it (though i do agree with you), which im sure you can understand. however, i do wanna post the rest of it and respond, so im gonna copy and paste that below. my answer got very long, so i am gonna put that under a cut :)

anonymous asked: idk whether this means anything to you, but your posts on the show are by far my favourite on this website, precisely because of the parallels and interpretations you draw from the play. i guess i'm biased because i'm an english major and love shakespeare, but your posts are so much fun to read. i don't think that you should dwell too much on why not everyone is so on board with the show having a direct link to the shakespeare play itself when it clearly does for me. i mean why throw othello in the mix in ep 6, make book covers with specific quotes and go as far to use direct quotes from the play, which were not in the movie; and these are just very obvious basics, you have already drawn so many more interesting parallels. i think with the particular people dismissing the play it's just the fact that they want their characters to be derivative of heath ledger's patrick and not shakespeare's petruchio, who is, for lack of a better word, less charming. there is also this thing of thinking of shakespeare as unattainable and oh so very different from modern media. it makes sense for people to think that this cheesy silly action romcom bl is much closer to this cheesy romcom movie that everyone has seen than a play written 500 years ago when in fact the play is just as cheesy and silly, it just uses iambic pentameter that's all.

first of all, it does mean A LOT to me that my posts are your favorite, especially because shakespeare and theatre in general is something i'm extremely passionate about. i graduated less than a year ago with a bachelors degree in theatre performance, and while my shakespeare research isn't extensive by any means and i don't claim to be an expert, it is something i'm incredibly interested in and i love getting the chance to share my knowledge and discuss it in this setting because it’s so rarely something i get to put to use in a fandom spaces despite it being a passion of mine.

which, i think the fact that it does mean so much to me is part of why it does upset me so much that people will so easily dismiss that aspect of it. like again, i understand not everyone is knowledgeable on shakespeare or even interested in being, but to completely dismiss something that so clearly inspired a huge part of the show just doesn't make sense to me. it's not like it being a shakespeare adaptation makes 10 things LESS influential, i think they were both big inspirations for jojo when it comes to the show, in fact it's very clear that he took inspiration and is making intentional references and parallels to both.

and look, i understand everyone loved patrick in 10 things and loved 10 things itself, and i even understand the disdain towards petruchio because i absolutely hate him, too. however, there's also nothing wrong with style being based on and around petruchio, either. especially because patrick was as well, and everyone is so fond of him. it's not a dig for style to be based on a character you don't like, if anything i think the fact that petruchio is so detested and style is so lovable adds a very interesting analysis element to the whole thing, which is very much what i was trying to get across in my initial post that started this discussion. and while i don't think there's anything wrong with thinking of style as being also based around patrick, because i very much think elements of him were, it is again just very dismissive to not at all acknowledge the parts of him that ARE petruchio, and even retroactively, the parts of PATRICK that are petruchio as well. because again, patrick was also based off petruchio, and you can't deny that whether or not you think style was.

and i do definitely think the disconnect does exist where people are going to automatically think 10 things is closer because it's a modern adaption, and again, i do think there is merit to that idea. however, like you said, the original play is just as cheesy and silly, it's just written in a way that many people don't fully understand. which, is again, totally fine, and it's also part of why i want more people to ask me questions about the parallels i draw because i recognize the language isn't the easiest thing for everyone to understand.

i just also don't personally know what things people are going to understand vs what they aren't because not only is everyone going to just have a different level of understanding and noticing different things, but i also have read, watched, analyzed, and even performed many shakespeare pieces, so i have genuinely no idea anymore what things people aren't going to understand compared to what i do - i recognize my understanding of it is going to be better than the average person and i've also recently even realized that some of the things i assume people know and understand when it comes to the language aren't actually common knowledge and just the product of me understanding the language and being surrounded by other people that do! so again, i beg, if there is something i post and discuss that anyone sees and doesn't understand, ask me about it! i am more than happy to clarify it for you. i want shakespeare and the shakespeare aspect of the show to be accessible and easy for everyone to understand.

because the thing is, despite these plays having been written hundreds of years ago, they're also still incredibly relevant to the modern day. it's why we keep getting shakespeare adaptations, like the heart killers. no, it's obviously not a one to one translation but that doesn't mean there aren't still things from the play that can fit into a modern context and even the themes and ideas can carry over in all sorts of different ways. and that's what jojo and the team have done with the heart killers!

[theragethatisdesire]

Hiii. How are you? I hope you're doing fine, I read your new addition to the poly relationship thing and it was really cool.

I was wondering if you have more headcannons of them? Maybe what pet names Jean and eren use for each other or the love language they have for each other,do they use physical touch or maybe words of affirmation or anything else? Or how they make out. Also do they cuddle (just the two of them)? Like maybe Eren had a bad day or something and I recall you mentioned that eren stops frowning when Jean touches his brows or smth like that. So what if eren had a bad day and he needs Jean to comfort him,do they cuddle or they just hug?

I'm curious about Jean's mom having a hard time with the poly relationship thing. At this point I'm just rambling,sorry.

I just wanted to see your thought on this cause I have some but I don't know how the others perceive it. Anyways thanks you so much,i love your content 🫶🏻🫶🏻

hellooooo cutie pie nonny :) this has been sitting in my ask box for AGES like since i dropped the last erejean fic i think and i have been so excited to answer it. i'm sorry it took me forever!!! but i am back and ~ ready to chat ~

more poly!erejean headcanons because anon said so

i think it takes them foreverrrrrr to be physically affectionate with each other, and it honestly takes jean awhile to get physical with you too, just bc of the dynamic changing

eren's love language is definitely physical touch, jean's is definitely gift-giving

whenever you or eren texts in your group chat (because of course you have a "y/n's bfs<3" groupchat lol) that you're having the worst day at work, jean's already plotting what store he's running by to pick something up for you as a nice little surprise

maybe it's ingredients for your favorite dinner, your favorite candy, a new pair of fuzzy socks, etc.

eren, on the other hand, just crushes you/jean with the biggest, tightest hug he can manage whenever you're having a bad day. probably offers a massage of some sort.

eren just ...very absentmindedly touches you and jean? like he is always just running a hand over your waist as he passes you in the kitchen, playing with jean's fingers while he scrolls on his phone, kicks his feet up on your lap to watch tv. it feels uncomfortable for him to be in the same room as either of you and not touch you somehow.

jean's favorite thing in the world is to have each of you tucked under his arms cuddling. insists on being in the middle for movie night.

i can't remember if i've mentioned this but eren and jean love sharing clothes. eren's the worst about it- he's literally always snagging jean's stuff and jean, misunderstanding at first, started buying eren a couple of his shirts that he noticed going missing. he got the point when eren never touched his new shirts.

eren 100% nuzzles into jean and you like a dog like noses against your shoulder/neck/tummy

just some little cuddling/physical touch hcs <3 as for jean's mom, i picture her being very traditional, wanting jean to get married and have children. jean has been bi for years in this verse, but very quietly bi, like maybe had a bf in college, told his mom (it took her a minute, but she came around) and his closest friends but keeps it pretty lowkey.

when he told his mom about his relationship with you and eren, the poly dynamic was just completely unlike anything she'd ever heard of and it really caught her by surprise. she wasn't outright unsupportive, but she's very old-fashioned and she just didn't understand how it could function like a legitimate, serious relationship. but when jean just keeps mentioning you both more and more (he knows things like this take her awhile, and she knows her boy is serious by how insistently he keeps bringing it up), she can just hear how happy jean is and wants to see how it works and give it a chance.

she's always adored eren through all the years she's known him, and she's smitten with you the second you shyly cross the threshold into her house, complimenting the decor. she never goes back, just has a few tentative questions for jean here and there, but all that matters to her is that her boy is being made happy by two wonderful people :)

[teddybeartoji]

he helps you put on the helmet and then gently headbutts you after putting his on.

And He clicks on the chin strap for you.

he smooths your hair after you pull the helmet off.

he takes your hand and tugs you to the lonely little food stall.

These small details are fluttering my heart. Sorry I might be crying right now. You are the bigger brained one among us. End. And the bike selection omg basic or not idfc, looks super cool <3 this made me feel so much better!.

One of the nights he'd teach you how to ride btw. I casually came across a video on yt that taught how to ride. I have a feeling, he'd play that and make you watch for some reason😭 And if you already know how to ride, he's behind hugging you close. Calls himself ur backpack. Asks you to go faster. He pulls the brake often!!! and yk why 👀. His stupid ass does the "vroom" sound. He is definitely shouting some song lyrics.

This is stupid but he might borrow https://pin.it/5lI6wsBVI from some kid while you both are out and take you some nearby.

I'M SORRRRYY THIS WENT INTO MY DRAFTS AND THEN IT KINDA GOT LOST IN THERE!!!! BUT I'M HERE I'M HERE I'M HERE!!!!!

OMGGGG HE WOULD LOVE TO BE YOUR BACKPACK THOUGH!!!!! like he would looooooooooooooooooooooooove that shit. c'mon he gets to hold you close while you're being all Sexy and shit whooowee. but srsly i think he'd have so much fun back there. he's tapping on your thighs, he's looking around and he's doing his utmost best to not point out every single thing he sees bc well... you are holding the fucking wheel yk lmao he can't be too big of a distraction.

he's trying to make you sit on the handlebars of the regular bike and then you both fall lmao and he loves it when you act all mad, hitting his shoulder and everything - we could've died, satoru! yeah, yeah, he's just laughing in your face with pink cheeks. he's such a little shit i love him

[seijorhi]

hi i just read oleander and i do y have anything particularly insightful to share but: ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥😩😩💕💕😳😳‼️‼️

once again rhi you have just absolutely knocked it out of the park

tysm!! i was so worried people were gonna hate it fhjdksldjvfdks

[quillium]

hello!!! before i say this i deeply apologize and hope you know that there is no pressure to answer or update overall, i love all your fics and enjoy anything you put out no matter the fandom (ended up joining both batfam and arcane fandoms after you wrote fic for both), but is the perfect future (can you see it?) for tokyo manji abandoned?

again i am v sorry if this was rude to ask, and thank you for all that you have written in general <3 i've enjoyed your fics since around 2020, and your work has never ceased to spark joy.

thank you for your time, hope you hydrated, and again apologies if this was too impolite of an ask !!

I got you bro

Okay but in all seriousness I'm so touched to hear that you've been enjoying my stuff since 2020 and having joy sparked by it??? I hope you continue enjoying it and take care of your health <3

[naenaex0xx]

If you receive this, you make somebody happy! Go on anon and send this to ten of your followers who make you happy or somebody you think needs cheering up. If you get one back, even better! ᓚ₍ ^_ _^₎♡

me when I saw this message

[maladaptivedaydreamsx]

Hi! I saw your request box was open, have always loved reading your writes so i wanted to request one too. Could i request a clavis having to ride into battle leaving behind his wife who is well along in her pregnancy? If it's alright?

Hello lovely! I've finally written up your request, and you can find it over here! I hope it was to your liking, and feel free to request something again if you have any others cooking ^^

[wishmemel]

saw ur post about being nervous to write for skz. i say go for it! i don't write for skz anymore but they were my first real person fic and i do think most people can understand no matter what you write to separate fact from fiction.

if the people im writing for are real i usually think of them as placeholders for other characters, say i end up loving the fic i write and wanted to get it published or something. because you can build off of a personality, visual, and sound. obviously what we write about them doing won't manifest any real things, even if its negative or positive.

i think as long as YOU, the author are able to do it then most of your readers will. just have fun with it. reading the works of other authors can also inspire and teach a lot, so go do that too! good luck! 🩷

hihi nonnie i kinda have zero words, just that this is the sweetest thing ever that you could’ve said — thank you for taking the time to give your feedback and encouragement and know that you gave it at a point where i really did need it! i’ve been reading some skz fanfics and i do want to start writing for them now, ill just have to brush up on the drafts i have already! so yk thank you so much for the boost of confidence, i hope that wherever you are and if you’re still writing (maybe not for skz, maybe not at all), you’re doing well and staying healthy <3

[satoruxx]

um OKAY MADAM ARTIST??? SHOW THE OCS PLEASE 🤨🤨🤨🤨

LMFAO?????? BAE I PROMISE IT’S NOTHING CRAZY I HAVE NOT GOTTEN TO DRAW THEM TOO MUCH YET :(( most of the stuff i have of them are frames from angst videos LMAO so those aren’t too pretty

BUT here are the few lil sketches i have of them

i draw my demon man a lot it’s kinda embarrassing but i really need to draw her more often… i’ll finish coloring those sketches of her at some point

anyways yeah i need to name them this is pathetic

[yandere-yearnings]

yello! I just wanted to ask if your ocs have set ethnicities? For quite a while now I've had this sneaking suspicion that Sun and Dice are greek since their last names are greek in origin and you also mentioned that Sun would make Dice and himself avgolemono soup (which is a greek dish) when they were kids. So since I don't think you've clearly stated any ethnicities (atleast not that I remember?) I just wanted to confirm my suspicions and ask if any other ocs have set ethnicities?

Okay bye bye I will pass out now snorkmimimimi🛌

-🦢

hope you had a good rest swan nonnie🥺🩷 you are right in that sun and dice are greek, and i'm glad that it was deducable enough through the stuff i have up for them!! i've yet to make a post abt it so ig this will be the one🤧 the intention is to explore their backgrounds more in their stories but,, i think it's obvious that will be a long time coming at the rate i write ahahaha😔💔

not all of them are decided yet but of the ones i can confirm:

sun, dice: greek

vio, bear, bea: romanian

laurent: french + hispanic

clover: korean

shura: russian

i probably won't set an ethnicity for ophelia or dia since they're technically dolphins (can dolphins have ethnicity??) you can hc them as you'd like😭 when i figure out the rest of them i will update this

[siamesedreamgirl]

Take it by the horns and devour it!

yeah!!!!!

[wriokitty]

i adore you (can’t you see you’re meant for me?) — ft. sylus

sylus likes to sleep late in the mornings, and you like to admire him. the two are just a series of steps that bring you to where you are now: on top of him

❤︎ word count: 4.7k words — it’s literally all pure filth with no plot idk what to say atp

❤︎ before you read: female reader ; established relationship ; sleepy sylus ; banter and teasing ; reader rides his abs (do not look at me) ; praise kink (it goes both ways tbh) ; blow jobs ; cum eating ; reader has an obsession with his veins (it is her not me okay?) ; sylus wraps his hand around her throat (but no choking) ; body worship + one clit kiss ; nipple play ; morning sex ; unprotected vaginal sex ; creampie ; do not be fooled it is all pretty soft i promise

❤︎ comments: i am new to this game and i haven’t gotten too far go easy on me for this one :( i dedicate this to all my sylus loving nonnies in my inbox thanks for helping me figure out this game LOL. and kass. ily kass

Sylus sleeps more when the sun is out than when it’s not. You don’t mind it so much—not when the view is what it is.

(He’s pretty, and so is the sun. The two combined make for an even prettier picture. You think, if you weigh your options, there are certainly worse things out there than sitting beside your sleeping boyfriend and waiting for him to wake up.)

It’s hard to keep your hands to yourself, though. His hair is too tempting not to brush away from his face. And while your hand is right there, it’s a little impossible not to cup his cheek for a moment. And, well, if you’re already touching him, you might as well let your hand slide down to his chest and rub circles against the skin. He leans into your touch subconsciously anyway—it’s not hurting him. It’s helping.

(You like telling yourself plenty of things to justify your hand and his skin having an early morning rendezvous.)

“Bored, sweetie?” His voice is always deeper when laced with sleep than it usually tends to be. You stiffen, moving to pull your hand away, an apology already prepared on your lips for waking him when he catches your wrist, eyes still closed. “I didn’t say to stop, did I?”

“You’re ridiculous,” you huff, letting him guide your hand back to his bare chest. It rises and falls slowly, so warm and firm under your palm that it’s a little dizzying.

“Am I?” He cracks an eye open, “I was just enjoying a little tenderness. I wonder why I can’t ever seem to receive something so sweet when I’m awake.”

“Precisely this reason,” you say flatly. He raises a smug brow. Just to humor him, you add, “Your ego can’t handle it when you’re awake.”

“What, that you find me too irresistible not to touch?”

“Sylus, go back to sleep,” you grumble, shuffling away from him with a face that feels unbearably hot under his half-lidded gaze. “You’re easier to get along with that way.”

“I don’t know,” he all but purrs. In a swift motion—swift enough that you let out a shrill squeal—his hand tugs at your arm and pulls you close enough that he can hoist your body to sit on his lower belly. “We get along pretty well when we’re wide awake, don’t you think?”

His hand hikes up your (well, technically his) shirt and rests on your hip, nothing but the thin fabric of your panties separating you from him as you’re seated on top of him. You shiver lightly when his thumb caresses your hip bone, a satisfied hum pulling from his throat at the feeling of goosebumps rising against your skin. 

“Sylus,” you breathe, squirming over him—but you can’t say much else because you cut yourself off with a soft gasp when you hear the distinct sound of something tearing. 

Fabric. 

More specifically, your fabric. Your underwear—which was a rather nice pair too, you think woefully—is torn into two pieces, one held in Sylus’s hand like some form of victory, while the other falls against his belly with nothing holding it together around your hips. 

You blink. He gives you a large Cheshire grin.

“Sorry, sweetie,” he says, not so apologetically, “They were just in the way.”

“I liked those!” You hiss, glaring at him, “They were nice!”

“What, you don’t think I can buy you more? I could buy them faster than I could rip them, I’m sure.”

You have your doubts about that last part—but it’s still persuasive enough that you’re no longer as mad as you were just a moment ago. But you’re still petulant, pouting as you huff, “You ruin everything.”

“Mmh,” he hums, closing his eyes, voice still a low drawl from sleep as he says, “Are you sure? Because I can feel you dripping already, sweetheart.”

Shame floods your system quickly, but lust is faster. Stronger, too, perhaps—because you don’t have it in you to be ashamed for too long before you grow impatient. With a deeper pout, you press your hands against his chest, leaning lower until your mouth hovers over his. 

“Can you blame me?” You breathe against his lips. “Just look at you.”

He stiffens. Just barely, of course. Just enough that you can hardly even detect it, but you do. You do because you know him. And you know that when Sylus teases, it’s really just to deflect from his need to shift the attention to yours—like he doesn’t want you just as bad. Like he’s not just as hard as you are wet in his boxers. Like he doesn’t need to feel you just as badly as you need to feel him. 

But he likes to keep the upper hand. It starts with two hands on your hips, firmly squeezing them before slowly rocking them against his abs. Your bare cunt (courtesy of him destroying a perfectly good pair of panties) glides along the ridges and indents of his muscle. Very well-defined ridges and indents of muscle, too. You tense, letting out a shaky gasp as your clit rubs against his hard-planed physique. 

“If you like it so much, why stop at just a look?” He chuckles, “You’re more than welcome to feel, too, sweetheart.”

He’s so sickeningly proud of himself, you can’t help but think bitterly as soon as your hips start grinding against him of their own accord. He’s so pleased and amused and deeply content with the sight of you falling apart over him. His eyes are hungry, and they don’t stray away from you for a single second. They don’t miss a single twist in your expression, nor do they have the decency not to stare shamelessly at the image of where your pussy meets his midsection, where your slick pools and coats his skin and makes it glisten as you make a mess on him. 

He hums, large hands leaving your waist buried in their frames as they guide you at a slow, steady pace. “Bet that feels good, doesn’t it?” He grins—and oh, he’s aggravatingly happy as he laughs breathlessly, “You look like you’re about to fall apart. Don’t worry, I’m right here. You can’t fall far.”

You would say something smart if you could. Maybe even reach back and palm over his crotch that’s rudely tight against his boxers. But you can’t. Not when your clit rubs against his warm, heated skin and leaves jolts along your spine. All you can manage is a pathetic, “S-Sylus, please—”

“Oh? Please what? Please more?” He coos.

Something of a dull ache builds into this deep, throbbing need to feel your walls hug around something. To constrict around and latch onto something warm and big and full—something like him. Something like the way he fucks you into the mattress and makes you feel like he’s so deep in you, you can feel him in your throat. 

That’s what you want—but of course, you’re naive if you think that’s what he’ll give. For now, at least. For now, he’ll tease, and tease, and tease until he can watch you crumble just the way he wants to witness. And you’re close to that, too—you know it, and so does he. He can tell by the way your wetness drips onto him in a messy pool, making your cunt drag against him easier, smoother. He can tell because he can all but feel the quiver of your walls clenching around nothing, empty and desperate for some sort of building friction. And he can especially tell because of your face—that devastating look on your face when you’re so close to the edge you can just practically cling to it with the tips of your fingers as it dangles teasingly in front of you. 

“More,” you plead, “Want you. Want to feel you.”

“Oh, but you’re almost there,” he says in faux sympathy, soothing you with a sleepy, smug little grin. “Surely, you can take it just like this, can’t you? You’re better than that—I know you are.”

His words take you to the edge. You plummet off of it, in fact, practically collapsing against his chest as he holds you upright with a firm, strong grip and guides you through your orgasm. You gush around nothing, making a wet, sticky mess on his skin as you cum against him, grinding your clit as much as you can along every indent along his hard, built muscle. 

“Sylus,” you whimper, “oh—f-fuck.” Your body quivers for a few more moments before you slump against him, burying your nose into his neck. “You’re despicable,” you bite the skin lightly.

He laughs. It’s low from the sleep that’s still clinging to his voice but boyish enough that your heart skips a beat. “Am I? You seemed to enjoy it.”

You shuffle to curl into him more, but your leg brushes against the bulge in his underwear—a small, barely-there sound pulls from his throat. Something caught between a gasp and a moan that makes you pause before you grin against the crook of his neck.

“Guess I should pay you back, hm?” 

He watches, pupils dilated and eyes half-lidded as you pull away and kiss from his collarbone to his pecs. A rise of goosebumps litters his skin, too—just like they did on your skin earlier. You silently revel in that victory, making your way lower, lower, lower. But it’s painfully, obnoxiously, ridiculously slow. 

“Don’t be a tease, sweetie,” he hisses, grunting as you kiss down his torso, the well-defined muscle of his abs flexing under every touch of your lips. 

“Who, me?” You blink, batting your lashes sweetly, “Oh, I’d never, baby.”

Your lips graze over the skin that’s still marked with your essence as you kiss and suck along his torso, a trail of marks left in your wake and declaring him yours. You can taste yourself from just a few moments ago—the moments when you rocked your hips into him and fell apart, when he held you through it with a sleepy smirk. The image of his smug face makes you glance up at him with a flustered look, and almost as if he already knows, his gaze is on you. Waiting. Smug here in person just as much as he was in your memories.

“What a naughty thing,” he drawls, teasing glint in his eyes. “Did you get a taste of yourself? I’m sure now you have an idea of why I find it so…addictive, don’t you?”

He’s filthy. Cocky, too. And more often than not, he’s absurdly prepared with smart comments. Just to even the playing field a little, you decide he could use a little relentless teasing of his own. 

“Oh, I can think of a thing or two just as addictive,” you smile innocently—and just like that, you lean in to kiss against a pale, blue line across his porcelain skin, pulling away to admire the veins that mark his body. Something in you aches for him all over again—something that you don’t like to admit happens from just the sight of something like his veins. But you pay careful attention to them anyway, leaning down and pressing soft, feather-like kisses against his lower belly, feeling him stiffen tightly underneath you as his breath gets labored and slightly erratic.

He’s impatient. You glance down at him, cock hard and strained against his boxers, the beginnings of a wet patch dampening the skin from pre cum dribbling from his tip. You almost feel bad. 

Almost. 

“Don’t you ever get tired of your games?” He grits, involuntarily twitching his hips to chase some friction. 

“I could ask you the same question,” you snort. 

“Yet, it seems I’m always the one spoiling you,” he retorts. 

There’s some bit of merit to that, you suppose. So you give in, humming as you kiss along his v-line, one finger looping under his waistband while giving a small tug downwards. He lifts his hips instantly, letting you pull off the offensive piece of clothing that separates him from your touch. 

It’s flushed, his cock. Swollen, flushed with a pretty rosy shade at the tip, and glistening with leaking pre cum. You lean and give the thick vein along the underside a series of kisses tracing upwards before pressing a delicate one to his tip. He groans, and his cock twitches at the contact, his eyes fluttering closed as he bites his lip. 

“Pretty,” you observe, smiling softly at the sight of him. 

He scoffs, lips almost a pout as they curl into a frown. “Then do something about it,” he insists. 

You think you’ve sufficiently teased him enough, so you do—you take him into your mouth slowly, inch by inch, as your tongue and the wet heat of your mouth envelop him and make him tense for a moment before his body goes slack. A deep, throaty groan rings through the room, the sound making something do a flip in your lower belly. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, breathing heavily. “You…you’re so good at this.”

The praise does something to you that you’re not proud of. Some flash of an ache deep in your core that you don’t want to focus on, so you pay closer attention to him instead. Your tongue swirls over his tip as your head bobs up, tracing down that pretty vein of his as you take him down your throat once more. What you can’t fit in your mouth—because there is enough of him that you can’t fit in your mouth—you pump with your fist, wrapped around the base of his shaft. 

Sylus has a lot of veins. You admire them long enough to know them all by heart. The ones along his hands that you love to trace when you hold them in yours. The ones along his arm that you love to eye when he’s working out. The ones along his abdomen that you trace every once in a while with the tip of your finger when you have him to yourself in private. And the long, pretty one along this inner thigh—the one you see only when you’re like this: between his spread-out legs with your mouth around his cock. 

Your free hand moves to lay over this thigh, gently rubbing into the skin as if to anchor him as he throws his head back and groans. Your eyes are trained on him, staring up at the twists of pleasure in his expression and the crinkles in his eyes as he closes them tightly and moans. But you don’t have to look at your hand to know your thumb is tracing along that vein. You know it better than you know yourself, you think—his body is so easy to memorize. So easy to get to know and keep ingrained in your brain forever. 

His thigh flexes under your touch, and you hum around him, the vibrations around his length making his breath hitch as he curses under his breath. 

You pull away with nothing but a string of saliva connecting you to him, his eyes glancing down at you sharply for the interruption. But you smile, equal parts soft and equal parts smug. Gently, you press a wet kiss to his thigh, right over the same pale blue line you traced just moments ago, as you murmur, “You’re so pretty. You know that?”

“I’m flattered,” he says tightly, warily staring down at you with hungry, desperate eyes. “I’m sure you can save the flattery for later, though, can’t you?”

“But what if you think I’m just using you for your body?” You gasp dramatically, “Can’t have that, you know. I have to appreciate you more.”

“Teasing can easily be reciprocated, you know, sweetheart,” he grits, “Or have you forgotten that so quickly?”

“Oh, I’m aware. I’ll take my chances.” Your lips trail up his thigh until it reaches the base of his cock. You press another kiss against it, murmuring a quiet, “I love you.”

His cock twitches—it’s like it responds to every soft word of affection and every littlest bit of praise. For all the denying and for all the impatience, too, Sylus loves the attention. Thrives under it, even—it does something to his ego that you know you probably shouldn’t help stroke, but you can’t help it. 

You press one more kiss to his swollen tip before murmuring, “Mine,” and then you take him down your throat once more—faster this time. Your head bobs up and down his length, lips wrapped around him as you swallow every now and then. 

His hand flies to his hair, tugging at the soft, silvery strands as he groans deeply, hips pushing up to meet your pace and thrust deeper into your mouth. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” he hisses, “Just like that, sweetheart—shit.”

He spills down your throat not too long after. Warm, sticky ropes of cum that paint your mouth with every twitch of his cock, filling you enough that some spills from the corner of your mouth, dripping along your face and collecting at your chin. You swallow what you can, working him through his orgasm, listening to the sweet, lust-hazed sounds he makes as pleasure burns through every nerve of his body. 

He slumps back when he’s finished, panting with an arm over his eyes while you wipe your chin and swallow before climbing up his body and slumping on top of him. He wraps an arm around your waist instantly, humming lowly as his large, warm hand rubs into your lower back. 

“Had your fun?” He raises a brow. 

You grin cheekily, kissing his jaw as you murmur, “I think you had more fun than me, but what do I know?”

He chuckles. It’s low, and the sound vibrates through his chest so that you can feel it under you. There’s a small bead of sweat along his temple, and his face is flushed a soft shade of scarlet that you admire—it brings out the deep crimson of his eyes even more from here. 

“You’re so pretty,” you whisper. 

“How many times will you remind me of that?” He asks, bringing a hand to your chin, tilting your face up, and inspecting you carefully. “You’re making me feel bad. I haven’t reminded you how stunning you are nearly enough times.”

“You could always start now,” you wink, “It’s never too late.” He laughs again. Deep, genuine, soft. Sylus is a lot of things. You think your favorite is in love. 

“Do I really have to remind you?” He whispers, voice husky as he slowly shifts your body to lay under his, flipping you over as he hovers over you. “You don’t already know how beautiful you are—how you drive me insane?”

“A reminder wouldn’t hurt,” you blink innocently. “What if you’re secretly getting tired of me?”

His eyes flash with something dangerous at that. You only meant it as a joke, of course—he loves deeply. So deeply, you don’t think you’d escape him even if you wanted to. (Not that you do, of course. You’re quite happy knowing your place is beside him.) You know he’s never tired of you—quite the opposite, in fact. 

But you like teasing him. Getting under his skin enough that his hand moves to your throat and wraps around it firmly—not quite tight enough to block your air flow, but enough to serve as a light warning. 

“You think I would get tired of you?” He challenges. Offended. In disbelief. “Tired of this?”

Just like that, the familiar sound of fabric tearing rings through your ears again. It’s a sound you seem to be getting more and more used to the longer you date Sylus. And yet, every time, it pulls the same sound of disbelief from your throat as you gasp at his audacity. But before you can speak, before you can scold him for ripping your (his) favorite shirt straight off of your body, his hands curve around your tits, molding against them perfectly as if they were made to cup them. His thumbs roll over your nipples, humming in approval as you whine softly at the feeling. 

“Sylus,” you pant. (Regretfully, you think that’s the only collection of syllables you can manage anymore on this fine morning.) “W-wait—”

“Wait?” He pretends to gasp in shock, “But we’re just getting started. I was just about to show you all my favorite parts of you—they never get old. Would you like to see?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he leans down, latching his lips around one pebbled nipple, sucking and nipping lightly at it as his thumb rolls over and pinches the other one. Your back arches into his touch, a soft moan spilling from your lips as he grins against your chest. 

“Here’s a favorite, for starters,” he murmurs. “And here—” he kisses along your belly and makes his way to your hip bone, biting lightly at the flesh and making your breath hitch, “—this is certainly a memorable place too, isn’t it? Can’t keep my hands off of it.”

Finally, his hands slowly pull your legs apart, exposing the wet, dripping mess that is your cunt, folds puffy and waiting for him. He presses a soft, lingering kiss to your clit, smiling at the small whimper you let out from the sensitive touch before he says through a low, breathy whisper, “This, however…this has to be my favorite part of all.”

“Okay,” you whine, pulling at his arms with a plea, “I get it, okay? I need it, please.”

“Well then,” he huffs out a soft laugh, “Who am I to deny?”

He’s level with you before you can blink—mouth on yours with a heavy, heated kiss that sends your brain into a fogged state as you kiss back. All you can register is soft flesh, pressure against your mouth, the taste of his tongue on yours, and hot and heavy breath seeping into your lungs while he inhales yours. It’s slow, the way he kisses you—but still undeniably needy. He chases after your mouth as soon as you pull away to breathe, a soft gasp pushing past his throat at the loss of contact. As if it might kill him. As if he might die without your breath down his throat, keeping him alive. 

“Do you want it, sweetheart?” He breathes erratically, “Because I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

“I want it,” you practically beg, “I want you.”

He’s hard again—stiff between his legs and throbbing at your words enough that his cock does a little jerk on its own, like it’s responding to you itself. He drags it along your entrance, rolling slow circles against your folds and coating his tip in your slick, earning a sharp inhale from you as he groans at the teasing friction against the head of his cock.

“I always want you,” he breathes. 

He pushes past your folds as he speaks the words against your mouth, letting you swallow up the low moan he lets out as your walls wrap around him little by little. It’s painstakingly slow. Inch after inch after inch until the blunt head of his length presses deep into you, nudging against a soft, sensitive spot in your walls that makes your whole body react with a quiver. He curves into you perfectly, thick and deep and so, so full. 

“Ready?” He smiles tenderly, gripping the fat of your thighs and hooking them around his waist, leaning to kiss one of your knees as you melt into the mattress and nod. 

“Please,” you whine, “Need it—need you.”

There’s a sharp thrust of his hips at that—he pulls out until he’s almost completely left your warm cunt before slamming back in past your folds, pressing mercilessly against your sensitive spot. It’s partly because he has your body memorized but mainly because his body is practically made to mold into you. It’s like he fits you perfectly, curves into the shape of your body like the shape of his was hand-made to pair with yours. 

When Sylus fucks you is when you see past his exterior the most. When his eyes hold the most emotion, staring at you like he can’t believe you’re his. When his hands shake for once because he doesn’t know if he deserves the weight of you in his hold. When his breath is the most labored and uncontrolled because you steal every breath from his lungs, and selflessly, he gives up air for you. When sweat coats his skin and makes his hair cling to his forehead because when he loves you is when his body is most responsive, most affected. 

When Sylus fucks you is when you love yourself most. Because how could you not when he pays such close attention to you? Thumb finding your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles just the way he knows drives you crazy, watching your face closely for every reaction? How could you not when close is not nearly close enough, when he presses his chest against yours and buries his face into your neck to all but melt under your skin? It makes you feel desirable. Beautiful. Lovable. 

So easy to want.

So easy to lose control to.

So easy to need. 

“You feel that, don’t you?” He mumbles, panting harshly as he grunts when you squeeze around him at the sound of his labored voice. “Feel me? How badly I need you? How crazy you drive me? Feel how hard I am for you? Don’t tell me you think I’d ever get tired of that.”

“I know,” you whine, “I know, I know, baby—I promise.”

You let out a small squeal when he angles your leg higher, thrusting deeper into your cunt, pressing harshly where you need him most with his tip in a dizzyingly punishing pace and a harshly rough deepness that makes your vision blur. Almost go blank, even.

“Tell me you love me,” he demands.

“I love you!”

“Tell me you need me,” he adds, so selfish and needy for your approval. To know you’re nothing without him like he’s nothing without you. 

“N-need…fuck, I need you,” you stumble over your words as your orgasm comes closer and closer, creeping up on you enough that you can’t catch your breath fast enough to keep up with him.

“Tell me you’re mine.” This time, it comes out as almost a plea.

“Yours,” you sob, body on the precipice of breaking all over again, “Yours, yours, yours.”

You cum as soon as you say it. Harder than maybe ever—it’s like being reminded that you’re his makes your body react tenfold. You fall apart with a shrill cry of his name, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a bruising kiss as your nails press indents into his skin. 

He groans in pleasure at the slight pain, melting against your lips, an open-mouthed, wet kiss working him up to his own orgasm. His first one was a slow build-up—but this one happens quickly, coming out of nowhere and hitting him full force, his hips stuttering for a moment and losing rhythm as he sloppily thrusts into you. 

Yours. Yours. Yours. 

Your voice rings in his ears, aiding him through his pleasure as he fucks his thick, sticky release deep into your folds, sharp thrusts that match the harsh twitching of his cock. 

“Ngh,” he grunts, “Sh-shit, sweetheart.”

Finally, when you’re both done, breaths frenzied and harsh as you try to make up for the lost air in your lungs, he slumps over your body and hides his face into the crook of your neck, practically purring as your shaky hand buries into his sweaty locks and strokes the soft, silvery strands. 

It’s quiet, just the sound of your breathing eventually shifting from heavy to slowed as you finally catch it, the quivering of your body dissipating, too. Your fingers journey their way from his scalp to the back of his neck, lightly making a feather-soft trail along his bare back as he shivers from the touch.

“Don’t fall asleep after I showed you a good time,” you pout, “It’s rude.”

“You were the one that woke me for a good time,” he mumbles, amused. “That’s equally as rude.”

“I did not,” you huff, “You were the one who escalated it. I just wanted a peaceful morning.”

“I don’t know,” he grins against your skin, pressing a chaste, warm peck where it's closest to his lips, “I’m feeling pretty at peace, wouldn’t you agree?”

so uh..........basically i got the card where u measured him for clothes and i saw a vein in his abs and lost my mind. so. here is the product of that. i REFUSE to be told this is not a completely totally normal reaction. thank you!

[teddybeartoji]

your post abt being happy for your brother is so real! my older brother and i were incredibly shy growing up and struggled to make friends and have fun in school bc of it so seeing our younger brother make lots of friends and have fun with them in and out of school is great to see :) happy for our younger brothers!!!

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 IT'S SUCH A BEAUTIFUL SIGHT!!!!!! like it really truly makes me so fucking happy to see him thrive!!!! AND WAHHHH I'M SO GLAD THAT YOU AGREE WITH ME THEY'RE DOING SO WELL AND I AM SO INCREDIBLY PROUD OF MY BROTHER AND YOURS<333333333