#digital doesnt look like a real word to me

[dissociativedollcherry]

✮⋆˙ DIGITAL SILENCE ୨୧

YANDERE MR.PUZZLES X READER WHOS IN SMG4'S CREW.

A/N:Yahoo! im back babeyyy,way better now and, btw ik smg4's fandom isnt that famous and this will probably only get 2/3 views, but im doing this anyways, this is NOT PROOFREAD edit: this aged like milk

Type: Headcanons, romantic, fluff/light angst.

Tw/Cw: Yandere topics, he hypnotizes you, obsessive behavior, paranoia, delusion, possessiveness, overprotection, suggestive(?), he literally worships you so much, emotional dependence .

Song recommendation: Creative control - Mr puzzles

୨୧ He got so hooked up on you, and he doesnt know how or why, but he just knew he needed you when he first landed his cameras on you, you were so captivating, he had to understand why.

୨୧ Before he hypnotized everyone, he kept a big eye on you, that were blissfully unaware of his obsession or existence, sometimes he got so excited of looking at you that he almost got to capture you to himself, but he had to control himself, he could do that later.

୨୧ When puzzles finally hypnotized everyone, he needed to see you first than EVERYBODY else and my god, you were so precious and beautiful in person, he couldnt get enough from looking at you, he was so glad he finally got to see your pretty face in person.

୨୧ During the shows, whenever you were on screen, he would display you always as the most perfect character in the story and sometimes he would even insert himself in them just to be more close to you or to be your love interest.

୨୧ He enjoys watching your performances so much, you were just made for the screens! you easily highlighted yourself in every show, even if you were just standing, or staying in the background, he would pay attention to you everytime, every single move you do or word you say, he is paying full attention.

୨୧ He would be extra touchy with you, since he was very lonely when a child, he would take all the years of him wishing there was someone to hug him and etc. On you, he would be soo touch starved.

୨୧ Puzzles would get a bit paranoid and feared when you get your conscience back, he tried to comfort himself with the "they'll never know" mindset, protected by the delusion that he did the right thing of hypnotizing you.

୨୧ Puzzles would panic when you got your conscience and memories back, but relieved that you wouldnt remember the stories where he inserted himself in so he could be creepily more close to you.

୨୧ But when he heard you also wanted to leave, he was furious, how could his own darling try and leave him?! hes the one who can make u a real star, the real deal, and the others are just... second characters, how can you want to stay with such pesky brats?! they were nothing compared to you!

୨୧ But he didnt blame you, you were with those weirdos since the beginning consequently making you not even know half of your potential since you were brainwashed by that pesky crew, so, he had to show you that your place was with him, on the big screens with only him, nobody else.

୨୧ If you wanted to stay with him or not didnt really matter, you were in his reality, he could make you his whenever, he just felt like giving you the illusion of a choice in hopes you would "choose" the right decision. (hes not insane at all! hes just silly!)

୨୧ You were his precious puppet, his puppet, his companion, he couldnt let you leave, no, he couldnt, he needs you and you will need him, he would show you your place, he eventually would.

୨୧ "When i saw you, i instantly knew that you were a natural star, so be good and stay with me, okay?"

[bonny-kookoo]

More someone older smut drabble pls

When he wakes up, he feels somewhat.. anxious?

He slowly sits up in his bed to look around, checking the digital clock next to his bed on the small table twice just to make sure that he's truly not asleep anymore. Because this- just doesn't feel quite real.

There's faint music playing in his home, outside the bedroom. The smell of something cooking fills the room as well, dishes clattering a bit in the sink in the kitchen. He knows it must be you- he's aware that you're staying with him after all. But still.

This feels too much like his mind making things up.

The bedroom door opens slowly, your head poking in, before you realize he's awake. "Oh, you're up." You say, entering more openly now. "I hope I didn't wake you."

"Why did you get up without me?" He wonders, feet meeting the floor as he's moved to sit on the edge of the bed, making you giggle as you sit down on the bed on your knees.

"Cause.. I wasn't tired anymore." You shrug, reaching out to somewhat tame his slightly wild bedhead. "And I thought you might appreciate breakfast?"

"I do appreciate that." He smiles, before he catches you off guard by tugging on your arm and making you lay down, before he positions himself over you. "But you could've also woken me up." He chuckles before pecking your lips once.

"But you were sleeping so tight." You say. "Looked like you were dreaming."

"Hm.. I was." He agrees, kisses moving to your neck. "Of you."

"Oh?" You wonder, stretching your arms above your head for a second. "What were you dreaming of?" You ask.

"Things I'd love to make a reality one day." He purrs against your skin, before he releases you again. 'I'll shower real quick, alright?" He tells you, before he pecks your lips once more and leaves into the bathroom to shower-

And you're honestly not sure what makes you feel so bold.

Maybe it's that feeling of safety you have with him, this odd sense of security here in his home, as if nothing can really harm you in here. So when you move to enter the bathroom as well, shower already running with him inside, you don't feel any sort of hesitation as you shed your clothes and join him beneath the warm water.

It's a sight that easily makes him stir alive, remnants of his dream revived as he watches the water pearl down your skin. The way you easily touch and kiss him is making his head spin, making him forget about your past hesitation in its entirety.

This is how it's supposed to be. Easy, simple. No worries about what might be the best thing to do.

Just existing.

Your hand on him makes him gasp into your mouth, a sound you eagerly swallow, his back hitting the tiled wall of the shower. He manages to turn the steady stream of water up ahead a bit lower as you fall to your knees, the anti slip mat on the shower floor cushioning them quite a bit as you work on him.

It's now what his dream was about- but he's sure he could never come up with a scene as serene as this anyways, imagination not advanced enough to even think of this potentially happening.

Just like back at your place before, this time once more he's a slave to your actions. It's causing his mind to go blank at the way your tongue runs over the head of his cock, beckoning him further and further towards his release. And then your hands join in to hold and touch what you can't fit, effortlessly making the muscles in his thighs spasm as he spills inside your mouth with his head thrown back against the tiles of the shower, a hand in your hair.

He can't let this stand.

And he doesnt- returning the favor shamelessly so with both his hands and mouth, eagerly devouring you as his first breakfast before he later on sits at the table in the kitchen to eat his actual one, conversation innocent enough to mask over the things that went down not even long enough ago to dry your hair fully.

If this is a dream, he doesn't want to wake up. If all the Christmas decor and your words about baking later are lies, he doesn't want to hear the truth.

He wants to stay like this-

And he'll do anything to make it work.

[impishjesters]

Pomni x Reader who doesn't wanna leave

warning(s): implied panic/anxiety attacks, implied Reader's life prior to the Circus might've not been so great A/N: I'm not really good at words of comfort, so hopefully this isn't too bad... request: I have a request for actually pomni instead of jax- a reader x pomni sfw thing where the reader doesnt actually wanna leave the place but understands why pomni wants to leave so they just try to help her with anything and is very comforting to her. (basically a extremely sweet and calm reader with a nervous wreck pomni)

It’s easy to see why one would freak out about being permanently trapped in a digital hellscape in a body that doesn’t require sleep or food.

You feel for Pomni, you really do, but unlike her, you enjoy living here. There’s little to worry about compared to the struggles of living in the real world, the life you had before this was nothing but stress and exhaustion.

Though it’s easy to see why that might be the issue for some people, sure you lose out on all the things the real world can give you, but for every pro, there’s a con. Something you can accept, but not Pomni.

She’s such a sweet girl when she’s not on the verge of a panic attack, even if you don’t want to leave you continue to reassure her that there has to be an exit. “Can’t have an entrance without an exit.”

The best you can do is reassure her verbally and try to bring some sense of normalcy to the place. Just last week the two of you went for a walk outside the tent and did some nature gazing, it’s a little trippy how realistic the ambiance was. Though it seemed to do just the trick to help Pomni, the fake birds flew around and chirped, accompanied by the screams of obnoxious bugs.

Then there was just a few days ago when the two of you sat and listened to music while having a fake little tea date. The tea set was real—or as real as anything in this place could be—similar to a child’s play set it was just decoration as the two of you chatted over empty cups of tea.

It always seemed like talking and acting like everything was normal was a big help to her, you know if you get past the fact that the person across from you doesn’t look remotely normal.

Today, however, Pomni had been a wreck all day—the nature walk and tea time offers weren’t enough to distract her. Instead, you settled down nearby careful not to touch her, and simply took it one step at a time. Pomni disliked physical touch so you made do with talking her through it, through what was currently on her mind all while making sure to steer the mindset from sketchy abstraction territory.

“How are you so okay with this?” She looked over her knees in your general direction, not really looking at you or anything in particular.

“I mean to say I’m okay is an understatement. But it’s an improvement in some departments compared to my life before… I understand not everyone can see it that way though. But for me, I’m pretty okay with the whole situation.”

Nobody had really opened up about their lives prior, whether they could remember or not it just never came up. It felt almost taboo for some reason.

“Like I told you before, every entrance has an exit. And if I find one, you’ll be the first person I tell.”

It’s not an entire lie, you would tell her if you actually found one, but not every entrance had an exit. In some cases, the only “exit” so to speak would be death, but saying that would only make the situation worse.

“H-how do you know that though? Nobody’s seen one except for…well Kaufmo and me..” Pomni bit her lip, squeezing her legs tighter. “And i-it wasn’t even a real exist… Caine said—”

“Sweetie Caine’s about as smart as Jax is nice.” That gets a hesitant little giggle out of her, it’s rude but true. “There’s an exit I know it, that said there’s a chance Caine doesn’t know where it is or how to access it. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”

“I…I guess you are right…”

Pomni relaxes the death grip on her legs, letting them dangle off the couch. She’s still stuck in her head but it’s progress, and you are patient to work with her.

“Wanna go down to the kitchen and make something?”

Her head snaps in your direction so fast you swear she’d get whiplash if she could. “What?”

“You heard me.” You give her a weak shrug and lean on the armrest of your chair. “We can’t eat but that doesn’t mean we can’t cook—it’s not the same but we can still do it, sorta.”

Her expression is pure confusion, did she not know you could still cook or that there was a kitchen? Have those idiots shown her nothing??

“Mhm, maybe we could bake something for everyone. Again, can’t eat it but it’s the thought that counts yeah? I’m sure the others would enjoy that, we can all sit down with a slice and maybe have a nice chat.”

That sounded nice, domestic, and more importantly, normal. She can’t remember the last time she cooked or baked something, and while it would suck to not be able to eat it, enjoying the company of the others would be nice. Well, mostly nice.

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

The two of you stood and you gave her a warm smile before gesturing her to follow. Before you made it to the door she called your name, giving a weak smile as she approached. “Thank you.”

“Any time Pompom.”

[the-s1lly-corner]

Hi! I got a Pomni x reader prompt:

Imagine if the reader and Pomni both have crushes on each other (something that everyone else in the  circus is aware of and doesn’t stop teasing Pomni cause of it) and at some point, the reader gives Pomni a quick kiss on the cheek spontaneously leaving Pomni in an incredibly stunned silence and the reader instantly embarrassed. The two avoiding each other out of fear of possible rejection and losing their friendship with it only taking everyone forcing them together for Pomni to actually saying the words to ask the reader out but they get there

Pomni x reader where theyre both losers!!! in love!!!

no clue what i wanted to name this one so uh uh uh uh !!! last request of this batch, gonna stretch my legs real quick then get right back to writing!! making pretty steady work of the remaining requests, me thinks

the gif above is more or less the face pomni makes when you kiss her on the cheek before running off... except her face is all pink, from blushing... and its not exactly a face of dread or anxiety, rather one of pure shock

i mean she had been crushing on you for how long exactly? it was hard to tell time in the digital world but it had been quite some time... oh jeez was she that obvious about it..? the though that you returned her feelings doesnt even cross her mind for a while, until later that night when ragatha found her still standing in the hallway with that look

ragatha, god bless her heart, manages to snap pomni back to reality and gets her to speak... she has this... look on her face when pomni says that you kissed her cheek

a "about time" look

"so are you two finally together?" or something in that vein, i dont think ragatha would word it like that but! you know?

meanwhile youre in your room cursing yourself for your actions

words gets out about what happened; mostly because jax entered the conversation between ragatha and pomni

and of course, jax told everyone about what happened

that everyone included caine

oh, you two were really in for it now, because caine decides to play match maker!

you guys ever seen the owl house, that one episode in season 2 where hooty makes a tunnel of love to try to get luz to confess her feelings to amity? thats basically what caine does; makes something thats really really lovey dovey and cute under the guise of it being for an in house adventure

except caine is not subtle about it, probably congratulates you for finally spilling your heart out to pomni

except... you didnt...

but hey at least the IHA forces you two to pair up

alone

in a tunnel, while cheesy romance music plays... so.. maybe in another heat of the moment thing, you both spill your guts to each other at the same time

pause

wait

huh

wow you guys have a crush on each other? who would have guessed!

^jax, probably

bonus if the tunnel of love thing has a camera and it takes a few pictures but instead of you two kissing n stuff its just both of you beat red, hands lightly raised as you guys take turn talking lightning fast to try to salvage the friendship out of that whole... fear of rejection thing... only for the shock on both of yalls faces to be captured as you confirm to one another that the feelings are mutual

caine feels... particularly proud of himself after this

[wyvern-of-whimsy]

It depends on which spellcheck youre using but some of the most popular ones like Grammarly are making LLMs that are colloquially known as generative AI that train off of user data. It's not a database of known words since it also takes in the typos and misspellings. If a misspelling/typo is common enough, it'll start trying to correct *to* that incorrect word instead of correcting that word to the original.

My mobile keyboard, for example, trains off of my most commonly typed words. And i misspell "the" as "teh" often, so it has started suggesting "teh".

And to put my own 2 cents in on @emperor-of-the-hill 's questions:

1. Collages take art from various sources and put them together in order to view the whole alongside its composite parts. But collages also highlight each piece of art used in their collection, and so having even one piece of AI art displayed amongst real, human-made art devalued not only the other art in the piece but also the composition as a whole.

2. Yes, using AI for even the background of a work stains the art (but this one is only my opinion). You could've taken a photograph from elsewhere, had someone else draw the background, or done a simple gradient/pattern background if you didnt want to do it yourself. Then, you have the creative choices still: you choose a photo that complements your foreground, someone else has the creative choices in choosing an artstyle and art that best frames the forground, or you get to choose colors/patterns that work with the foreground. With AI, the creativity is drained out of it.

3. Digital tools with gen ai is a broad category. I like to split it up with this qualifier: does it make something new that wasn't there before? If it does, thats generally not ok in my books. If it only repeats what was already on the canvas, it is acceptable. Let me give you a few examples.

A "background maker" that will repeat background patterns in Photoshop, often used to edit objects out of photos: it doesn't make anything new, so its OK!

A filter that will make a person look like an anime character: not OK. It creates something new on the canvas, that being 2D drawing style.

A smart fill tool on an animation software that will attempt to color an object in all selected frames the same color when it detects that object: A-OK! The color is still chosen by the animator, and the object was made by the animator. All the AI is doing is coloring where the animator tells it to. This tool speeds up the animating process, but it doesnt create new material.

AI is a new and confusing subject, and it's important to educate people on the different uses of AI and the different types. Id recommend researching Large Language Models (LLMs) which is what ChatGPT and other "generative" AIs are.

i literally dont care what your excuse for using AI is. if you didnt put your own effort into making it im not putting my own effort into interacting with it.

[bishiglomper]

It's not even 9 and I'm riled up

I woke up to a loud, confident "FUCKIN'-!"

It sounds like the nephew hurt himself. Which didn't actually trigger my anger because of the F word

Its because he said it so adamantly.

Which i then realized started last night.

Before then it would be a scream whisper, going "FAH" or "F'kin". Which irritated the shit out of me, but no, now that i think about it, he blatantly said FUCK several times last night with no shame.

And half the problem isnt even the goddamn F word! He always straight up verbally attacks and abuses us! And when we tell him to go away, he'll come back seemingly calmer and be like

"Hey mom? ...why are so annoying?"

And she'll say something like "I'm trying my best to make you happy."

"You didn't answer my question. I said- why are you so goddamn annoying?

And why is (bishi) so annoying? I just want to play my game, but you, you cant mind your goddamn business! Why can't you just ignore me! I cant believe i have to share the living room with you people!!"

I want to bitchslap him so bad

It's such a shame. He's a very sweet, sensitive boy. He can be so thoughtful. If you're hurting, he asks if he can rub it for you. He asks for cuddles all the time. He likes playing games like I Spy and the alphabet game. He likes doing character voices. He can sing great. He's very good at math and when he realizes he does good in reading he gets so shyly proud of himself. He likes history and all sorts of interesting facts. You do NOT ever make a bet with him over facts he knows. And he's real good with toddlers.

But oh my god. He absolutely cannot deal with any negative emotion. The slightest irritation and he becomes the biggest fucking asshole.

He is not going to make it in the world. At all. Everyone is going to hate him. He's not going to learn to make friends.

Fuck, we're not going to make it. My sister has expressed concern that, when he actually gets bigger than her? He's already like 150. He's a big boy. He could hurt us if he wants to.

When he hits puberty and shit escalates, i dont know what the fuck we're gonna do. He does not listen. He has never had an ounce of respect. We absolutely cant control him.

But the worse he gets, the weaker my sister's guidance gets.

I just. I understand to some extent "i can take it because he feels safe enough to lash out at me without consequences" but that is not turning the flag the color you think it is. And it is giving him the confidence to start treating US that way.

And i don't care if he's autistic. He's not unaware of the world or what's coming out of his mouth, this is not a verbal tic. He can learn some goddamn basic respect and patience for the people around him.

He's not going to learn to brace himself against bad feelings if we don't even bother to teach him how to navigate and deal with those feelings.

He turns 10 in 2 weeks.

Double digits already. And jesus, dont even get me started on the self reliance aspect of his upbringing. I just need him to control his mouth.

You know none of us taught him this. We do not speak to or treat eachother like that at all. He learned it all on youtube and the gaming culture he's exposed to on the oculus.

Ive been warning my sister to limit and control that exposure since he was like 4 and could navigate YouTube on his own. You can see how that turned out.

My sisters childrearing frustrates me so much. Ive shared thoughts, concerns and found all sorts of articles and videos to help provide insight and ideas.

Id been telling her for WEEKS about rejection sensitive dyaphoria. She avoided looking it up because she didnt want to acknowledge another thing wrong with him.

Since then, she read something like. When he feels criticism, he feels like the world is trying to kill him. Not consciously, that's just how his brain chemistry responds. And she doesnt want her squishy widdle baby to suffer. Its just so heartbreaking! That his brain thinks the world is trying to kill him! We must protect his feelings!

Like bitch, no. You need to help him reshape his thinking and reassure him that no, we're not attacking him personally every time he hears anything negative or opositional.

[yourpaleddy]

:)

[introloves]

anon: okay so i just went through (the entirety) of your bokuto tag and lemme just say, boxer! bokuto??? yeah top tier. you just KNOW that every time he wins he wraps that medal round your neck and makes you watch in the mirror as he uses it to choke you and keep your head up and eyes on his while he absolutely rails you. shit after fights you’d look just as bruised as him.

— boxer! bokuto + marking + choking + pain + possessive! bokuto + overstimulation + size kink + bokuto calls reader ‘puppy’ + cream pie + f! reader

— word count; 2k

— boxerverse! bokuto: one shot no. 2

he’s trembling, high strung with the adrenaline that still hasn’t left him. it’s funny seeing him whine for your attention, someone so big and muscular like him looking absolutely destroyed when you give him a stern look against his kisses.

it’s so very apparent in the way he handles you that hes looking at you to help him come down.

“bo, calm down.” you pant, trying to push his hands away, its a futile attempt to keep his wandering fingers away from your pants. its like he’s magnetized to the waistband of them, digits twitch when you slap them down.

he’s big, strong, a finely tuned machine built for taking hits and giving them back like a bullet but your rejection makes him pout.

there’s a twist of pain in your chest when he gets like this, but he needs to rest.

despite everything, he acts like its just been another day, but it hasn’t even been two hours since his last fight. theres a bruise painting his lip, another one against his brow, red splotches litter his sides and stomach but he shakes your prying hands off thick wrists, fingers hooking into your waistband and pulling them down to your thighs. he looks up at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes ever. waiting for the okay he knows is inevitably going to come.

“fine, but if i see you wince, we’re stopping.” you sigh, smiling at the absolute beam of teeth and curled lips he gives you.

he’s so fast, peeling off every bit of clothing you had worn tonight. he had to have you, needed it like he needed that win.

a win that he already has, now he just needs you.

you cant deny that his excitement isn’t making you wet, he’s like a god above you, vying for your attention and body. he was truly glorious tonight, muscles taut and coiled as he bounced along the white canvas. biceps curled and ready for his opening to land one of his signature right hooks. he takes every hit against his body like it’s nothing, completely unfazed by his opponent. at one point during the match he taunted them, dropping his arms and baring his teeth, just waiting for the fight to truly get good. it makes you squirm, he could be so intimidating, watching like a predator for any opening, any hole in the opponents defense.

your body flushes in memory of watching him land that final hit, he sees the way your thighs squish together. groaning at the thought that your body was responding to his advances, surely knowing by memory how good he fucks you.

your bo always looks so strong and powerful. no matter where he is, whether he’s fighting or when he’s trapping you against those strong arms.

it makes you sigh at the pure determination he’s dripping in, rolling your eyes as he gives you a once over, wiggling his eyebrows at you, torso stretching to reach something from the bedside table, canines flashing as he shows you his newest trophy. its a devious look, proud eyes glinting down at you.

you feel that you can read his mind, about to tell him that, no you won’t fuck him while he’s wearing it, but he lowers it over your head, giving you a bigger smile as the heavy and cold metal lands right between your tits.

“that looks real good on you.” he finally says, abs contracting with the pangs of arousal crawling up his neck. he flinches just a bit at the soreness there, he’s a little more beat up than usual, but hides it well. if there’s anything he needs other than rest, its to fuck you dizzy.

he thinks he might be a total meat head with just how much he likes the image of you wearing something he worked so hard to win, a primal heat licking at the arousal also flaring inside him. you’re really truly his, bokuto can see it in your eyes, regarding him like hes strung the moon up in the sky.

you belong to him, just as he does you. just like that shiny medal you’re wearing.

the bed creaks under his weight when he leans down to kiss you, hand grabbing your face, keeping you right where he wants you. tongue immediately slipping past your lips, pulling a cute whine. he’s sloppy with it, teeth bumping against your own, spit trailing down the corner of both your mouths. when he pulls away, your eyes cross to watch the string of spit connecting the both of you.

he swipes his tongue out and catches it, mumbling something when he sees you reach for him.

“sit back.” you realize he says a little late, snapped out of the haze by the gentle tap of his index finger against your cheek.

koutarou makes a show to peel the rash guard he was wearing under his shorts off. his creamy, muscled thighs finally grace your vision. it makes your body temperature rise several degrees at once, the hot flash only encouraged when you see his dick lying pretty against his thigh. you reach for him, but the advance is stopped by his hands, he doesnt say anything but grips your wrists a little tighter.

your gaze moves from his purpled knuckles up to his eyes, the amber there looks just a tad bit cooler and you immediately know it’s going to be a bad day for you tomorrow.

“want you on your tummy.” bokuto states, and you listen.

waiting for his hands to grip your hips, but he lags just a little. turning your head to look at him you ask if everything’s okay,

“you remember our safe word?” he inquires, and you nod, blanching just a little. his words send a prickle of fear down your spine, you suddenly feel very vulnerable and exposed.

“well, what is it?”

bokutos hand comes down to grip your shoulder, huffing against your ear. theres a small pull there, bringing your shoulders back to meet him halfway.

“j-juice.”

he’s right there, waiting for the last syllable to leave your lips, poking the head of his dick against your cunt. it leaves you breathless, smooth, velvet skin leaving a wet trail of precum right on your clit.

it makes you exhale out a high pitched keen, unable to stop it from tumbling out a little louder than expected.

the whine has him purring, humming out a, “good girl.”

there’s nothing in the world that you can compare the way he splits you open. the first stroke is always careful, makes sure youre nice and relaxed, wet enough to take him. you always are of course, how could you not with the way he holds you, pulling you back by your shoulders, making your back bend as much as it can, the twist of your body like that makes for a real tight squeeze, feels like the already limited room inside your cunt is cut back to an absolute zero.

it should hurt, but you’ve taken him enough that hes practically carved the shape of him into your pussy.

he has you nice and compliant under his hands, head thrown back to leave the most fucked out sounds of pure ecstasy rattle through your lungs and into the room.

he can feel the chemistry, something akin to electricity, between the two of you. if he could form into words what its like when you lean agasint him, completely trusting him to take care of you, to make you feel good, he’d fill a book up- and pocket it to reread over and over.

bokuto releases you, letting your shoulders fall forward gently before reaching around and pulling the, now, warm metal from between your body and the bed.

it catches you by surprise when he gives it a tug, the silk cutting into your prominent veins, making you go weak and dizzy.

if you couldn’t think or talk before he was doing this, you definitely weren’t going to be able to while he was.

your hands find the pillows above you for leverage, biting down onto your lip when he begins a brutal pace against your hips. hes pinned you down onto the bed with his mass, not even letting you arch your hips to give him better access to your cunt.

“ghh, kou- kou feels good.” you cry, taking an index finger into your mouth to bite, theres not a spot on your body where you dont feel him, so big above you, you can feel the press of his dick in your throat.

“i know it does puppy.” he grits out, still biting back the pain that each brutal contact against your body brings him. hes got the stamina, the sweat hes broken out thus far isnt too bad, but the position and the way hes taking you- hand still holding onto that precious medal- is taking a toll on him.

he knows he needs to make you cum fast.

and knowing his sweet baby, the way to do that is to rough you up just a bit. it’s real endearing.

the silk burns just a little when he shifts behind you, making sure to keep a good grip on it- you dont connect the dots of what hes preparing to do, not until he pulls back.

you’re mid scream before he cuts you off, tears forming in your eyes against the rasp and wheeze of your breathing. the tension around your throat isnt forceful enough to cut your oxygen off completely, it just leaves you wheezing and gives you a nice haze to your vision.

you’ve tensed up completely, knees locking, hands gripping the pillow above you for dear life.

the reaction from you makes him shake, you can feel the stutter of his hips, hearing the high whine leave his throat, he powers through it. he clashes his teeth together and snarls, blinking back stars when he speeds up.

“c’mon, cum. cum for me, puppy.” bokuto grunts.

its not like you to not listen, as soon as his words leave his mouth, you’re closing your eyes.

you’ve gone limp for a second, and bokuto truly fears that hes overdone it, he drops the grip he has on his trophy, about to stop everything, but then your tremors start.

your legs, still pinned down between his own, shake. he sees your cute little hands slap the pillow and swallows deeply. you’re silent- but he can hear the echoes of moans that want to leave your throat thanks to your open mouth and head that’s thrown back. it takes you two seconds before you seem to flicker back to life,

“ghhhh, hhhh! koutarou, kou!” his name is the first coherent thing that leaves your mouth, and he swears there’s nothing better. he cant compare you to winning a match, knocking out his opponent in a KO- because seeing you like this, hearing you scream his name like that would win every time.

he’d like to comment on how eagerly you’re milking his cock, but the pulsing of your cunt around his fat, big dick does him in.

there’s no time to pull out, wasn’t planning on it anyways, but the squeezing of you againts him, leaking your cum down to the base of him, wetting his pubes with you, also leaves no room for it.

it’s obscene, the squelching sounds of his pistoning, cumming cock, creaming your insides white, all the while pushing it out of your cunt with every thrust.

it splatters against your ass and his thighs, white globs of it stick against the two of you while he rides out the throbbing. there’s nothing more satisfying than filling you up, a deep tingle nipping at the base of his skull when he thinks about his cum kept warm in your cunt.

this is what finally tires him out. the tremor and twitching of his strong arms visible when he reaches down and pulls his limp dick from you, he saves you the pain of his weight crushing against your already fragile body by plopping down beside you, you jump up on the bed with the force of his weight collapsing beside you.

the sticky heat is no match for his eagerness to hold you after it all. you slot against his front easily, almost completely dwarfed by his frame.

“‘re you proud ‘fme.” he slurs against your neck, trapping his thigh between your legs. he shivers when he feels the mess of his own cum smear absolutely everywhere.

your hand comes down to rest over his arms, protectively secured around your torso.

“always. i love you so much.” you whisper back, voice just a tiny bit raspy and sore.

“mm, loveyoumore.”

he’s out before you can count to ten, hearing you say that puts a smile on his face while his breathing evens out behind you.

you take the lightest of touches to the bruises on his knuckles, your koutarou truly was something else. while he sought out your validation, you basked in the glory and security of someone as grand as him holding you tight.

[20cm]

long letter (varying degrees of vulnerability and embarrassment) to someone(s), but probably mostly to myself, because ive felt absent and like a ghost for so long im not even sure where i should start

the concept of writing this feels incredibly silly for many reasons, including but not limited to the fact that ive already started it twice and felt dumb about how im wording everything. its not a unique experience and i find comfort in knowing that theres connection in how people feel emotions. but im also aware that if i never actually talk about it frankly without deflection or downplaying it that no ones going to know. and maybe some of you dont need to know, or dont want to.

you can stop reading this if you want then, genuinely this is selfishly for me needing to feel understood, because right now im not even sure i understand. this is just my little blog with people who follow me who dont know me, and those who do know me.

this letter is for the latter because im not sure how to say it to individuals and make it sound real, and sincere, and like im not just making up excuses for things maybe no one is looking for explanations for in the first place. but i feel each gap of time without saying Something to someone like a deep personal failure. like its my failure that a gap cannot be bridged because someone reached out and the shell of the person theyre talking to doesnt reach back. i struggle with feeling real, i dont blame anyone for leaving the ball in my court, im just sorry that its still sitting there. its not your fault

im sorry for being gone. both physically (digitally?) and mentally...im probably going to continue to be gone a lot. these periods of mental absence come and go but fact of the matter is that theyre becoming more frequent, or maybe just lasting longer

theyre hard to. work around. get over. which sounds like an excuse but im incapable of giving them at this point. its laughable how much im aware that maybe i dont owe the internet my time, but all my friends are online now, and its become increasingly hard to come to terms with how to balance where this intersects

i dont know how to feel healthily removed when the life i live outside my silly little phone+computer is painfully limited by a hundred factors, most of which i do not control, and the loneliness is suffocating

im also unsure how to not feel like im a whining child about all this. or how to not downplay my own feelings when i wouldn't dream of downplaying anothers, because im aware theres worse issues and also that its ok to struggle.

the feeling like ive failed every friend ive ever made haunts me like nothing else and its something im reminded of daily

knowing that one of the base responsibilities in a relationship with any human being is being present, but i have long periods of time where i cannot do that feels like a base failure at the most deep level. i cant and don't expect people to wait around forever. i will go months without being able to hold any real conversation with someone. i just dont want anyone to ever feel less cared for because of it, i think of everyone fondly

i think its also funny that logically i know friendships and acquaintances dont always last forever and that's okay. people are in each others lives for the times they need them and can keep each other. and you can always come back together if its wanted, but sometimes theres a lifespan and its fleeting, and you need to be okay with leaving people behind, and being left behind yourself

i think im just always used to my friendships having timers on them. when friendships last longer than a year those people become like extensions of my heart. i want everyone im friends with even for short times to feel warm and loved, because i know that life finds ways to bring people together and apart when it whims

i think im used to living like im on a timer in general. i dont expect things to last. im never under any assumption something will stay static. life is change. change is guaranteed. change isn't something to be afraid of

but it does scare me. intensely. i know that sometimes i let things go because the fight feels pointless. i know thats not always conducive to keeping relationships itself. i try anyway. im not sure it matters, but i want people to know that i Try. i feel that tug to Keep and Try so intensely

the problem is when i dont feel real, its hard to try. its hard to feel permanent. its hard to feel like anything matters. i get so used to floating as a defense mechanism that ive somewhat lost the ability to hold onto anything. everything feels like its running through my fingers. i tell myself itll all work out eventually

and it sometimes does. i have many lovely people in my life that are patient with me, and care in their own ways, and it makes me feel incredibly grateful and incredibly unworthy. everyone whos ever been patient with me when i disappear on and off for a few months deserves far better than i can give. im aware its not always about giving, but i feel like that by failing one of the core tenets of Being There most of the time im already asking for too much. i just hope that being there when i can is enough.

its harder to feel like any of these fears and issues are worth talking about when theyve plagued me for years. when ive tried to work on and patch the shortcomings and be Better for those i care about when it feels like i keep getting damaged in ways that set me back and make it harder to get back up

its hard to constantly explain myself as just going "through it" again. another week, month, couple months. especially when i know i could blame a lot of it on the last 2 years but that doesnt feel fair anymore. i know it's also my fault

so im sorry. genuinely and wholeheartedly. i know that i hurt people when im not present, when i stop answering and im barely there. i know its potentially uncomfortable for others. or who just worry. im also aware that theres people who probably havent given this a second thought, because theres also a possibility im making Up people who are mad at me out of my own self-loathing. i have no idea, because i know its also incredibly selfish to think im more than a passing thought when someone sees my name in a contacts list or online, but thats very unfortunately not how the brain works huh. im covering my bases at least

i want people to know im trying, that i care deeply, that im sorry, deeper. its hard to give proof of this. its also time i feel silly for having typed 38 paragraphs to post online like im doing a one on one therapy session with my little keyboard. its cathartic to say it out loud though. i spend too much time trying to be quiet. it feels like a waste if everyones time to put words to an experience that is not new to me over and over.

i am not always a perfect friend despite wanting to be desperately. i cant be there sometimes, and its funny (how many times will i say this) that once again im aware that theres no such thing. and trying is all anyone asks, and people will have plenty of friends who serve different social needs they have

absolutely mental to me that it Somehow feels life or death though. it feels ... dramatic to be so worked up about it, for years and years. or why Right Now is the breaking point in which i voice my very dramatic little fears

i dont know anymore, frankly. im trying to be real. im trying to be present. trying to remember what it feels like to feel looser and happier, instead of tightly wound and stuffed with cotton

i have post traumatic stress disorder, the months of september through february are already incredibly difficult for me. the month of march felt like i got my hopes up for nothing and the month of april feels like trying to come up for air

i feel guilty, lonely, and incredibly pathetic. its sad in hindsight and looking inward im aware its not all my fault, and its also not permanent

change is, as always, the only guarantee in life

but it means for the last half a year ive felt incredibly.....inhuman. a shell of someone. i don't know how to explain this to others without it feeling like an excuse. i dont want others to feel burdened by knowing they might have to sacrifice any comfort by being friends with me. its their choice to, its not like there's a single person on earth that doesnt come with baggage, but i feel guilty nonetheless. its hard to get over that sometimes. it used to be easier. it'll get easier again

i don't know what the point of this was. in genuinely do not expect anyone to have read any of this, im posting it and putting it into the wind.

but it felt like i needed to out it somewhere, remind myself that i always try. late last month i felt like giving up for the first time in a long while. needed to remind myself that i try. thats who i am. i keep moving. change is guaranteed. nothing is static, for better or worse

i am more than my illnesses and disabilities and i am worth patience and care, etcetera. if anyone needs me ill be trying to deal with my manic episode and little hallucinations

sorry if i disappear again. thank you for reading if you did. maybe writing this means ill feel better soon

[the-s1lly-corner]

Hope you're having a good day/night!

Hope you don't mind, could we get Caine, ragatha and kinger with a S/O reader who laments they wanted to have kids before getting stuck in the circus, and now worry that might be something they won't get to have now stuck in the circus? Sometimes they hesitantly ask if, if they ever got back to the real world, would it be something they would also want? Thinking about a possible future outside the circus makes them feel just a little better

If that's okay!

Caine, Ragatha, and Kinger w/ a partner who wants kids

Ooooo boy this ones gonna hurt, I havent even started writing but my heart aches

CAINE:

He looks...

Sad

He cant leave the digital world, so the idea of having children with you

Even if you escaped

It just cant happen

For once he goes quiet and you can tell something is wrong

The fact he may not he able to leave, as an AI, never crosses your mind

He seems to become

Sad?

When you grieve over the loss of the children you never got to have

Sure, he could probably make NPC children, but that's not the same nor does it feel right

I think this would also serve as a harsh reminder to him that if you leave the circus, he cannot follow you. It also reminds him just how different the two of you are

RAGATHA:

The question actually gives her pause, when you finally drop it

She never really thought about kids, I mean yeah sure shes thought about the possibility of escape, but kids?

She's not... fully opposed to the idea, I think.. she also doesn't think she'd make the worst mother, with her naturally caring personality

I think this actually gives her hope that one day you guys might be able to escape

Together

Please dont abstract and give up on her, it would break her heart. Both because shes lost you, and because the future you two were planning will now never happen

KINGER:

I like to think that kinger was a father before getting trapped in the circus

And it hurts knowing he doesn't currently remember his kids

Would their memories return if they escaped the circus? Or would they only remember the circus and onwards?

Both hurt, I think. On one hand, the first option will give kinger that guilt and make him feel like he accidentally abandoned his children. On the other hand, these kids now have a father that doesnt recognize him

But onto the actual requests question, I think he would be very open to it! He strikes me as a family man, would love to have at least a few kids with you

When you escaped

When

That word does something to him, and he cant exactly explain why

[mariska]

good morning tiny friends inside of my phone i hope those of u who are awake are having a good day so far and those of u who are not awake i also hope u eventually have a good day as well :-) i've been trying to wake up earlier than i usually do which typically doesnt last longer than a few days for me because of my adhd and the insomnia that goes along with it, BUT! i have a two day streak so far so. thats nice lol.

anyways i am just sharing my morning thoughts with u all......almost every day for the past two and a half years i've made myself write phone notes of song lyrics or concepts or ideas or record little melody snippets in my voice memos whenever they happen to pop up in my head (if im able to in the moment, like if im not busy or at a health appointment or something) so that hopefully i can use at least some of them to make music or poems or art in general....so because of that i now have literally hundreds of fully or partially written songs, a few poems, a lot of slightly incoherent rambles, some snazzy melodies to practice on my guitar or with midi instruments in garageband lol, and a few ideas for entire albums or eps that i think would be really fun to explore.....its nice cuz i've always been super drawn to the idea of keeping a physical journal for myself, which i do try to do also, but because of my forgetfulness from adhd and also because holding a pen/pencil and the journal book and taking the time to write all that kinda stuff on paper can be too physically painful for me pretty often with my chronic pain and autoimmune flareups, the act of typing it all out into a digital notepad where i dont have to erase spelling errors or try to hold a big book steady enough that my writing is legible with my shaky hands is just way more accessible for me and so much faster.....

.....anyways again i just thought i'd share that with u guys! idk if anyone following me here who reads my occasional real life ramble posts is like, also a musician or songwriter or even a writer or artist in general and struggles with getting ideas down quickly like i do so, it's a neat work around for that issue for me at least. i don't always remember to but i like to try and write the date and time at the top whenever i do save songs or thoughts or poems just for my own sake of knowing what i was thinking or processing at a particular time in my life. all of this to say i woke up today and had what i think could be a really fun and creative conceptual songwriting exercise for myself that just popped into my head out of nowhere and i just spent the past hour, which is literally how long i've been awake so far lol, writing a song with that concept in mind and i really like how it turned out and how it looks in word form so i think i might try to play around with chords and stuff on my guitar and see if i can make it into an actual song, even if it's not like, the most dramatic technical groundbreaking thing ever, i'd feel good just being able to put the words to a melody at all. so that is my task for today if i can physically hold my guitar and do that, i haven't been able to much at all lately because i'm in a horrible pain flareup this month so fingers crossed 🥺🤞

[junkworldusa]

on comics

[tl;dr i was worried for most of my life about being a ‘good artist’ but now i just make comics and you should too]

i spent april, may, and half of june 2020 rendering geometric objects in soft charcoal. i threw myself into what’s colloquially known on /ic/ as grinding fundies-- perspective exercises, bargue plates, and figure drawing. my intent was to git gud and finally launch a narrative webcomic-- something visually pleasing, digital, and well-written. i had finished scripts, thumbnails, character designs, etc. i had to take advantage of all this sudden free time from losing my job! this was my chance!

then last month i realized abruptly that i was not that kind of artist, i had never been that kind of artist, and i would never be that kind of artist. i could not go SCRIPT->THUMBNAILS->PENCILS->INK because it would kill me. i had to accept i could not “finish” anything that way. if i thought too much about the work i lost interest; if it took too long i got bored. even now, every comic is a race against my own attention span.

i think there are a couple factors at play here. one is my own brain. but another is a deeper problem inherent to the medium: i believe “writing” a script or words ahead of time sucks the life out of the work. (will eisner talks about this in “Comics and Sequential Art.” ideally the writer and artist should be the same person and it should be done at the same time; if they cannot be the same person, then the artist must have liberty to change the script as they see fit to better suit the pacing/visual storytelling.) comics are the interplay of words and image. the words feed the image, the image feeds the words. the fragmented process of, say, a typical DC comic-- script/pencils/ink/color all done by separate people hundreds of miles apart-- is antithetical to the medium and also why these comics are mostly bad. to go even further, the words and images should be done with the same tool. if i put the brush down to switch to a pen the words are not the same, and the disparate style is jarring on some level. the simultaneous creation of words and images is essential. there’s immediately life. your hands come up with things you didnt expect. what i very recently learned is that i have to work like a rollercoaster: start to finish, without looking back, and without stopping. thinking is not necessary-- “skill” is not necessary. (i still struggle with this last point but the mild popularity of a few of my left-handed comics prove it to me: people will respond to a shaky scribble as long as the scribble is alive.)

i got this practice from lynda barry. who else? when i first read that she just sits down and draws a comic from start to finish, i was horrified and jealous. she writes the words for a panel, draws the image, then moves on to the next. that’s it. it seems straightforward but it haunted me. i thought i was incapable of this and that anything done like this would be TRASH! (unless lynda barry did it, of course.) but that is how i am trying to work now.

it’s not easy. self-consciousness, self-criticism, and the years of thinking art must look a certain way are all against us. it gets easier, though. i think it got easier once i realized how fun it can be. i use crayons, cheap paper, collage, non-dominant hand drawing, anything to help me realize it’s not that serious. the tactile and permanent aspect of traditional art is another aid. some of my favorite cartoonists and inkers work digitally but my brain doesnt grok it-- on some level it doesnt think it’s real.

working this way, i am not making the type of comics i wanted to make. i am not making comics that a lot of people will like to look at or read. but i am making comics, and before this i was not.

everyone can and most importantly SHOULD make comics. i tell everyone i know that they should draw more, that they should make comics. the usual protests: “i can’t do that, i can’t think of anything, i can’t draw.” how do you know? i think the same things and these thoughts are the death of art. everyone has something to say-- if you draw a comic and show it to me i will love it because it’s something new.

i have nothing further to say about art that hasn’t been said by lynda barry, GOAT, whose books on writing and drawing i recommend to everyone. (”What It Is,” “Picture This” and, appropriately, “Making Comics”. i feel like these should be mandatory reading for humanity.) tom hart, one of the greatest living cartoonists in my opinion, has a big free [!] e-book available about cartooning and creativity with lots of exercises-- http://www.tomhart.net/how-to-say-everything.html

finally:

ok thanks for reading my manifesto xxx

[sombreboy]

Tease me⇢kth x jjk

⇢18+ ⇢pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook ⇢genre: Smut, fluff, mxm ⇢word count: 5.4k ⇢warnings: profanity, tae sends jk pics of his cock smh, they skip class to fuck don’t do that educate urself my lovely peeps, dom!kth, sub!jjk, blowjob, fingering, anal, sex in public place, this is fiction pls use lubey lube

A/N: Serves as a oneshot within the Love Maze series AU, however can also be read on it’s own. Co-written with my lovely @velvetwicebang​ <3

Either the clock had been stuck on the same time for over a trillion hours, or Taehyung’s brain was having a blast poking at the boy’s established impatience.

It felt as if he’d been sitting through Mrs. Choi’s lesson for way too long now; his ass had certainly left a permanent imprint on the hard-as-shit chair. The discomfort only irked Taehyung even more, and the latter couldn’t be bothered to mask his see-through disinterest, facial expression resistant— Who the fuck needs calculus, anyways? Calculators exist.

The boy’s leg bounced from underneath the desk, wanting nothing more than to yell out ‘Fuck math!’ and storm out of there. But of course, he couldn’t do that. Not if he wanted to prove Jungkook wrong. The younger was smart as hell, and Taehyung knew how seriously he took his studies. Naturally, being in a relationship with someone so academically-driven also meant Tae couldn’t fall behind. And he was trying to prove to Jungkook that he was capable of getting good grades, when he actually tried..

The elder let out a soft sigh, gaze flickering to the front of the class, acting carefully before he pulled out his phone from the front pocket of his pants. 

To: JK Hey

Taehyung waited a minute, no response.

To: JK I’m boreed 

Jungkook always took forever to reply.

To: JK i know you’re seeing these smh, won’t even reply to your boyfriend

Suddenly, Tae got an idea. The elder flicked through his camera roll, lips slowly curling outwards into a cheeky grin before he attached a very personal picture..

To: JK meant to send this to you the other day I was soo fucking hard, can you see?? you like the view?

It was an image of his cock, the tip pink and swollen, veins running alongside the smooth edges. 

If this didn’t get Jungkook’s attention, Taehyung would be surprised.

Jungkook feels the incoming texts in the form of a series of vibrations against his leg, and normally he would ignore it completely... but he knows it's his boyfriend, so it was getting incredibly difficult to ignore. His lecture was boring anyway, the teacher blabbering about a topic he already excelled in, so he didn't feel as bad about sneaking his phone out underneath the desk…

Kook's breath hitched when he swiped the conversation open, only to be greeted by Taehyung's fat cock staring right back at him, so hard and--- it had the younger's thighs pressing together just thinking about the way it felt in his mouth. Heavy, smooth... fuck.

He glanced around, thankful he didn't have anybody sitting close to him for once. Tapping in his reply, his cheeks are hot, his lower lip caught by his bunny like upper teeth.

To: Tae I'm in class babe...

Jungkook sighed when he took another look at the picture, suddenly class was the last thing he cared about.

To: Tae ... I really love the view... I can't focus now

At first glance, Taehyung was a bit surprised Jungkook actually rolled along with it, but oh was he pleased.. He hadn’t intended for the conversation to turn sexual... not from the beginning, at least. The elder played his cards right, an unexpected dick-pic granted him his boyfriend’s undivided attention. Taehyung loved being the only one running through Jungkook’s mind..

To: JK oh yeah? thinking hard about my cock now? ooo naughtyyy 

He also fuckin’ loved to tease the hell out of Koo. 

To: JK i get really hard just thinking about you you and your cute ass

The elder comfortably leaned back in his chair, typing with one hand whilst the other lingered close to his crotch, itching to slip it past the band of his trousers..

To: JK that ass is tight as fuck too didn’t even need to jerk off to porn, i got off to the picture of you on my phone came so much, fuuck

Jungkook had to bite down on his lip to prevent himself from embarrassing himself, the natural urge to whine because of what Tae tells him through text was astonishing. The power this man had over the younger... one sentence and Kook is already uncomfortably adjusting his length that is resting against his thigh.

To: Tae Tae, seriously! you can't say things like this... I almost moaned out loud I can't focus!!!!

Jungkook stared at the picture for the umpteenth time, bit swollen lips parting lightly to exhale a longing sigh. His gaze flickered between the lecture and his phone again as he kept typing.

To: Tae fuck... and I'm getting hard. Want you in my mouth.

Kook blushed a bit as he sent the last two messages. However, two could play a game of tease during class... Tae might just be better at it. But that doesnt mean Kook won't at least try.. maybe he has a higher effect than he thinks.

Either way, Taehyung was a master of seduction, whether it be a quick fuck, or a sensual evening in bed--- it's undeniable that his sex appeal is off the roof. Hence why Jungkook is sitting in fucking class with his cock pulsating underneath the table. Shit.

The elder’s lean fingers curled inwards into a tightly-knotted fist, blunt nails sunk deep into the clammy flesh of his palm. All the while, Taehyung’s beast of a boner prodded at the fabric of his pants, the striking outline a cherry in a basket of strawberries. Anyone with a working eye could see Taehyung was worked up about something..

To: JK such a tease, baby so sudden? bet you were thinking about me fucking the shit out of your pretty mouth for a long time i know you like it real rough

The light film of sweat collected on his hand seeped onto the fabric of Taehyung’s jeans whilst he slowly smoothed his palm over his erection, the corner of his lip twitching in aggravation. He wanted to stuff Jungkook’s stretchable mouth full through the screen, fuck it hard until his dick turned limp.

To: JK naughty boy, you probably touched yourself to the thought of my fat cock before we were even together

He angled the phone down, pressing record before rubbing at his clothed cock, thumb swirling around the bulging head.

“Fuck..” Taehyung grunted softly, flipping the camera around to selfie-mode so Jungkook would have a different perspective. He kept it low, pretending the camera’s lens was Kook’s doe eyes, picturing his boyfriend on his knees— Taehyung staring down at him.

Even from such an angle, Tae managed to look intimidating. His raven fringe running past his hooded eyes, jaw clenching as he held in his moans, cheekbones prominent.. He had it all.

He tapped on the red dot once more, attaching the newly-made video before pressing send.

To: JK this the cock you’re thirsting for?? see how hard it is? it’s even harder when i fuck it real deep in you

Jungkook hovered over the video, swallowing tightly before pressed play. It was a dangerous game that his boyfriend played, and Kook knows he already lost. Taehyung's fat cock, his piercing gaze, even through a fucking phone screen had the younger mans insides clenching around nothing, his mouth salivating. He couldn't even hold back the quiet groan that rumbled in his chest, passing it off as an awkward cough to avoid attention.

To: Tae Yeah.. love when you're rough..

Koo blushes, ignoring the obvious statement of him touching himself to the thought of Tae prior to their relationship...

Although Jungkook knows he's already a puddle for the elder, he knows Tae does have a thing for the digital aspect of things... whether it be porn, nudes, or videos. Even when sending a simple recording of his cock, he made it look great... he was a natural with the lens.

Kook angled his own phone camera to snap a picture, squeezing his thick length through his sweatpants to show the prominent outline. Then he snaps a second one, very quickly of his bit swollen lips, sending both in one go.

To: Tae I want it so bad... See how hard you made me too...  I keep biting my lip or I'll whine out loud... you asshole

Koo smiles through the haze of lust, the endearing cursing between them still something they both just do-- and love.

A small, barely-noticeable smile pulled at the corners of Taehyung’s wet lips.

To: JK shut up... asshole you’re liking this

Then it was back to internally groaning over the pictures Jungkook had sent, lust-crazed pupils dilating at the mere image of those swollen lips wrapped snug around the velvety skin of his cock.

To: JK excuse yourself and meet me in the same spot don’t take forever

It was the last nudge; Taehyung had to act on his urges before he went crazy.

He excused himself from the lesson, lying saying he had to go to the restroom. Taehyung did need to get something out of his system, but it wasn’t what everyone else thought.

Jungkook licked his lips at the commanding invitation, swiftly putting his phone back into his pocket as he excused himself, also lying about his whereabouts. Luckily, he was easily let off without much questioning, being one of the teacher's favorites. Piece. of. cake.

He shoved his books into his backpack before hurrying towards their secret spot, internally competing whether he would possibly make it there before Taehyung this time-- just to rub it off in his face.

As Jungkook made it there, he looked around, not yet seeing the male... He glanced down at his phone, a small smile tugging on his lips. Did he make it first?

Turns out whenever Taehyung was horny, the boy could run a marathon. If there was something worth claiming at the finish line, Tae was there. This time, the prize just so happened to be his lovely boyfriend.. It was no surprise when he’d gotten there first, too impatient to miss a longing beat to his steps. But, being the cheeky bastard Taehyung was best known for, he hid from Jungkook.

When he made out the younger male’s figure, that was when he tip-toed out of hiding, pressing his chest to Kook’s back as his arms circled around his torso.

“Hey—“ Taehyung laughed at Jungkook’s startled jump, angling his neck to press a chaste kiss to the younger’s cheek.

“Relax, it’s me. Slow ass..” The elder joked, swiftly turning Koo around on his feet by a quick twist of the younger’s waist.

"Ah! Tae... shit, I've told you not to scare me like that..." Jungkook's annoyance quickly morphed into a grin, unable to stay mad as he twirled to face his boyfriend. His hands immediately find the elders soft, dark curls, itching to run his fingers through them.

"I wasn't slow, you must be sonic or some shit...." he chuckles, drawing Tae in for a kiss, unable to hold his bit swollen lips away for a second longer.

Taehyung acceptingly immersed himself in the warm, summery feeling of Jungkook’s lips, dipping his toe in the latter-infected waters. 

He breathed in Jungkook; he felt Jungkook’s presence all around. Every curve and dip of the younger’s body was a place Taehyung knew all too well.

He squeezed at Kook’s delicate waist. Taehyung’s lost count of how many times his needy hands would hold onto the flesh. It was the most familiar spot..

“Don’t think I forgot all about the, ‘want you in my mouth’ shit you pulled..” The elder practically muttered, tracing daring kisses along Jungkook’s jawline, down his neck, on his collarbones..

Anywhere that would allow the sudden intrusion.

“That got me so hard. You knew it’d faze me, huh?” Taehyung gently drove Jungkook’s back against the concrete wall, shuffling a leg between the younger’s, sensually rubbing at his boyfriend’s awakened crotch.

“You knew it’d make me wanna push you down to your knees and fuck your throat swollen, didn’t you?”

"Y-yeah-- fuck..." Jungkook immediately feels like he melts into the wall behind him, the cool surface juxtaposing the fire in his body. His cheeks are flushed red, snapping his chin to the side as he blushes, whining quietly when Taes knee massages his length. It was almost embarrassing how quickly he was brought to a full hard on, but then again; Kook being absolutely whipped for Tae is no news.

“Baby likes it rough, tsk. You know which buttons to push, alright..”

Taehyung tilted his head and aimed for the side of Jungkook’s neck, where he sucked greedily on the discolored patch whilst his hands snaked past the loose band of Kook’s sweatpants.

Fondling and jiggling a handful of Jungkook’s bare ass in his bigger hands, Tae purposely pressed their bodies closer together, leaving little room to the imagination.

He groped and squeezed at the plump skin, pulling Jungkook’s lower body away from the wall, grunting against his boyfriend’s neck as he left dark hickeys to linger on for days.

“So fucking gorgeous, my pretty boy..” 

Taehyung pulled away, seemingly pleased with his colorful creations.

“Now, get down on your knees, pretty.”

Jungkook didn't need to be told twice, abruptly dropping down on his knees in front of Taehyung, his strong hands smoothing down his torso to his thighs on the way down. His doe eyes stare back up at the elder with a mix of submission, admiration, and greed, licking his lightly chapped lips.

"You think I'm pretty?" Kook tilts his head like a curious puppy, his coyly cocked eyebrow morphing with his small smile that couldn't be helped. He always felt a bit giddy whenever Tae praised him in various ways.

He keeps his hands on Tae's thighs, slowly inching back to tug at the zipper, greedy to see and feel the weight of his boyfriend's cock on his tongue.

"Fuck my mouth, I'll look even prettier.." He whispers out his words, a bit flustered to utter them.

“Shit, I don’t doubt it for a fucking second..” Taehyung felt strapping as he confidently towered over Jungkook, one hand pressed against the wall whilst the other glided through Kook’s silky hair, caressing the younger’s scalp with gentle fingers.

“Always hungry for my big cock, who would’ve thought the prettiest boys would be so dirty..”

His thumb faintly brushed over Jungkook’s cheekbone, studying the latter’s submissive pose before him. Taehyung cockily widened his stance, feet shoulder-width apart and hips slightly jutted out.

He waited until Jungkook undid his zipper before taking control, tugging on his briefs just enough for his needy cock to pop out, his warm balls laying still against the waistband.

“You wanna suck my dick? Wanna know what your ass gets a taste of every time I fuck you?” The elder harshly bit down on his lower lip, “Stick your tongue out.”

Knowing he wouldn’t have to wait long, a faint smirk took over Taehyung’s features at Jungkook’s eagerness.

“Even your tongue is gorgeous, fuck.” 

With one hand around the base, Tae rubbed the head of his cock along the wet muscle, gripping onto a handful of Jungkook’s hair whilst he stared down at his boyfriend, internally praising him for being so good..

“Hmm..” He gently slapped the thick girth on Kook’s tongue; soft, wet splatter sounds taking over their senses.

Jungkook hummed in delight when he could taste droplets of Tae's precum with every gentle thud against his tongue. He inched even closer, opening his mouth wider as he stuck out his wet, flattened tongue further, as if begging for more already.

Kook is a shy boy, but when it came to Taehyung; he was a selfish, greedy man.

However, he knew not to get too greedy, unless he wanted to annoy his boyfriend. It was usually a one way ticket to limp town. Sometimes he wanted it, sometimes he didn't. 

Today was one of those days where he wanted it rough.

So, the younger didn't wait for instructions, neither did he say a word before he ignored the tug in his hair as he leaned forward, taking Taehyung's cock into his mouth. It was worth it, the smooth skin and tangy mix of salt and sweet coated his tongue wonderfully. His vibrating moan reached his throat, sure that Tae could feel it around his cock.

Kook's mischievous, doe eyes stared back up at him, his plushy lips stretched and reddened as they worked hard to accommodate Taehyung's girth.

“Wait, what are you doi— shit..” Taehyung’s heavy-lidded eyes abruptly enlarged; his initial shock vividly magnified on his features in the form of arched brows. He watched as his boyfriend’s plushy lips enclosed around his hardened length, spouting a thick blanket of warmth throughout Tae’s body, overpowering his cold demeanor. That’s all Taehyung did— stare. 

No one had ever disobeyed him, they waited for him to take control of the situation. Until now..

And if Taehyung wasn’t so fond of the power it granted him; he would’ve been less irritated at Jungkook and his sudden boldness.

The assertive grip on the younger’s hair returned as Taehyung harshly yanked him away from his cock, jaw muscles clenched and gaze intimidating. 

Who did Jungkook think he was? The younger was stripped of his control every time they fucked; Taehyung liked it that way. To say this was a surprise was an understatement..

“What have I told you about doing shit without my permission, Jungkook?”

However, no matter how much Tae tried to force himself to dislike it, he couldn’t. His boyfriend’s eagerness was endearing.

“Impatient boy..”

Digging his fingers deeper into Kook’s mess of a hair, Taehyung forced the younger back in once again. This time, it was on his terms.

He controlled the pace in which Jungkook’s head bobbed, rhythmic hips thrusting slowly to meet each plunge.

“Hmm.. fuck yeah.” The wetness lathering around him from inside Kook’s mouth tipped Taehyung’s head back, grunting softly as his eyes squinted shut, black curls sticking to the light layer of sweat exuding from his creased forehead.

At that moment, he didn’t have a care in the goddamn world. 

Taehyung towered further over Kook, extending out his free hand against the wall in front of him and fixing his grasp on Jungkook’s hair. The elder held his boyfriend’s head in place as he thrusted into him, hips eager and swift as he began fucking his mouth.

“Like that? Shame you can’t answer with a cock in your mouth..”

The sparkle of mischief in Jungkook's eyes never subsided, saying more than enough at the fact that this is exactly what he wished for. To spur on Taehyung's dominance, hearing, seeing and feeling the elder manhandle him and mock him-- fuck, the younger's cock was leaking underneath his pants.

"Mmm....mmhhh.." Jungkook hummed with joy, gaze glassy with tears from the burning stretch in his throat. It was bittersweet, but he was ever the masochist for Tae's big dick. He stared up at the various expressions of pleasure and coy mockery playing on Taehyung's face, only able to look up for so long before tears began to trickle down his cheeks, mixing in with the drool seeping out his mouth with every rough thrust, Tae's cock taking up the space in his throat.

Jungkook relaxed in the elder's hold, using his flattened tongue in his mouth to allow the slick length to glide effortlessly. He breathed heavily through his nose, however only able to do so every few drags when the head of Tae's swollen cock wasn't blocking the airway as it was lodged back in his throat with every snap of his hips.

Kook's grasp tightened on Taehyung's pants by his thighs, seeking some kind of leverage, muffled whines and hums stuck in his chest to be killed by the loud sound of wet squelches.

The piteous, gagged response of a hum fed into Taehyung’s inner sadist as he was physically driven to ram deeper into Jungkook’s mouth. He wasn’t worried— well, too worried. Of course Tae was precautious; he didn’t want to hurt his boyfriend. But he knew Jungkook could handle his hefty cock. After all, they’ve had plenty of practice during their time together..

They rarely spent a day without any action; Kook’s body was a magnet for Taehyung’s longing hands to obsess over.

“Sweet boy, takin’ all of my cock like a champ..” Tae hissed, entranced by the way he’d continuously bulge against Jungkook’s hickey-stained throat, feeling the sensitive tip roughly prod at the inflamed flesh. 

“Hngh.. so warm, baby. Almost as warm as your tight ass.” His panting grew thicker, losing the momentum he once started with, “Look at you, so fuckable. Hmph.. just wanna stretch the shit out of you, leave you open wide and shaking.” Taehyung yanked harder on Jungkook’s hair, knuckles lacking their natural color.

“I’d cum so much inside, fuck, you’d be so full.” 

With one last powerful, forced slam, Tae stopped the movement of his hips before he would break loose. All that talk made him realize how much he missed being inside of his boyfriend, even if he’d just fucked him a couple days ago..

“Pretty..” The pad of this thumb brushed under Jungkook’s eyes, wiping away the fresh tears that’d resurfaced. Taehyung slowly pulled his cock out, gaze softened as he stared down at Jungkook’s smaller position.

“Stand up and kiss me, baby. Wanna taste myself on your lips.”

Pebbles roll on the ground from the quick momentum of just how eagerly Jungkook got back up on his feet, arms clinging around Taehyung's neck to bring him in for a needy kiss. The younger's plush lips moved naturally against his boyfriend's, his familiar mouth bringing nothing but comfort and an immense need to taste more, and more.

"Ah..." Kook was gentle however, allowing Taehyung to be in control of the intensity, but the needy whines coming from the younger showed just how badly he wanted every single little thing the elder would offer.

"Taee...." Jungkook timidly moans against his lips, his erection pressing up against him like a needy boy. "You taste so good.. Can you taste it?"

“I do, baby, tastes good..” Taehyung leaned in for more, pushing his tongue past the small, hitched opening in between Jungkook’s puffy lips to ease the areas in which his cock took proper advantage of. The kiss was sloppy, yet precise as Tae carefully moved his lips against Kook’s smaller ones, pleased vibrations emitting from his chest.

Not bearing the emptiness in his palms, his hands resumed groping Jungkook’s ass.

“I’m gonna fuck you, Koo. Gonna make it quick, alright?” Tae pressed a soft kiss to Jungkook’s nose before tugging at the younger’s sweatpants and briefs in one go, too impatient to go about it any other way. 

“So aroused ‘n pretty..” Taehyung’s breath hitched at the sight of Kook’s hard cock, head oozing with droplets of precum. “Just like you.”

He carefully drove them back against the wall, this time pushing Jungkook’s chest against the concrete and tugging gently at the younger’s hip, making his ass stick out. 

His boyfriend didn’t need any prep, they’ve fucked enough times in the course of a week alone. But it didn’t hurt to tease Kook a bit— Taehyung never turned that down.

“Gonna stick my finger in, breathe.” Tae didn’t lie, his middle finger slowly pushed past the bundle of nerves trying to force him out, but he didn’t budge. His forehead was rested against Jungkook’s nape, lips slightly agape as he looked down at what he was doing. The elder’s other hand spread one of Koo’s cheeks, giving him a wider view.

“Shit, you cool? Found that sweet spot you always like..” The pad of Tae’s finger quickly rubbed at the side of Jungkook’s prostate.

“You love it when I tease it, admit it.”

Jungkook muttered breathy curses, placing his elbows against the concrete for leverage. His soft cheek pressed to the wall, flushed in the initial embarrassment of being this exposed-- in this place... Tae always managed to make him feel small and pretty-- and the praise only built on to his reddened cheeks... and throbbing cock.

"Ah..." His low curses quickly morphed into higher pitched moans the second his boyfriend's long, slender finger touched the one sweet spot that only he could reach. "Fuck, yeah.... I love it-- please, more."

Taehyung always knew how to please him, just with one finger he had reduced Kook to nothing but a slut for him. Every single time they fucked, the one word Jungkook would chant like a prayer was just that. More.

"D-don't tease me too much... I'll go crazy, please, stretch me more." Jungkook's pathetic voice was shaky, rutting his ass back against Taehyung's finger, his thigh muscles tensing and relaxing every single time his sensitive flesh was prodded.

Taehyung reached in deeper, the stretchable skin of Jungkook’s wet rim now surpassing his knuckle, clenching tight around the elder’s long digit as he massaged Koo’s warm insides. The elder’s cock throbbed against Jungkook’s soft cheek, jealous it wasn’t receiving any special attention— for now. Tae wasn’t planning on leaving it forgotten for long..

“I’ll stretch you out good, just be patient..” Tae left soft kisses along Jungkook’s shoulders and flexed shoulder blades, twisting his head slightly to continue against the crook of the younger’s neck, the silent sounds of his sweet kisses only audible to the both of them. 

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous, you know that?” The warmth of Taehyung’s breath clung on to Jungkook’s ear whilst he praised, lingering close until Tae’s face was no longer near; no longer trapping in the heat of his soft words.

“I’m gonna put it in, I know you’re dying to feel a hard cock in you. My hard cock..” Taehyung swiftly dragged out his finger, taking a hold of his dick and lining it up against Jungkook’s entrance, rubbing the tip against his puckered rim before gently advancing his hips forward, harshly biting on his lips as he did so.

“Hngh.. warm. Tight as fuckin’ always, fuck.”

Jungkook's drawn out moan sounded more like a whiny cry, muffled by his hand as to not want to draw any attention-- but it was hard. However, something about possibly being caught had the younger's entire being tingling with excitement. Maybe he was a little bit of an exhibitionist after all...

"Mmph... Tae, god... big.." Kook struggled to put together any sort of coherent sentence, muffling out words into his hand in between breathy cries. His fleshy insides constricted around his boyfriend's thick girth harder the deeper it drilled into him, taking shallow breaths to relax. His thighs shake with anticipation, he couldn't bear to be patient...

Jungkook arched his back further, hungry for more of Taehyung to enter him, glancing over his shoulder to see his expressions. If there was one thing Jungkook loved just as much as hearing how good he felt, it was seeing it as well.

The elder granted Jungkook just that— thick eyebrows knit together as he fully bottomed out, cock snug and protected in between Kook’s gripping insides, the unpredicted squeezes prompting the latter to grit his teeth until his jaw turned sore.

Taehyung engaged in promising eye contact, his bedroom eyes gazing deep into Jungkook’s wavering ones. Tae’s back remained slightly hunched as his blue-veined hands held onto the other’s hips, fingers digging into the sweaty crease connecting the younger’s hip bone and his leg. 

“Damn, been waiting to fuck this ass for a hot minute..” He added movement to his stance, keeping it slow and collected at the beginning for the sake of their enjoyment.

“My ass. I own this shit now, fuck..” The hitting of his pelvis against Jungkook became more noticeable, the smacking of their skin every time they met almost as distinct as Koo’s soft whines.

“Only mine to fuck raw and stretch.” Taehyung’s thrusting grew more aggressive, forceful snaps turning quicker and harder..

“I’m the only guy that gets to bust in this little ass, fuckin’ better stay that way..” 

The mere thought of another dude fucking Jungkook led Taehyung to grunt in displease, panting softly as he no longer worried about holding back, entering Kook’s ass again and again until he could no longer keep count.

Jungkook's doe eyes rolled back in pleasure, fluttering shut before he dipped his head low, his long curls falling forward as he faced down. Every snap of Taehyung's hips drew a louder moan out of him, every inhale a hitched breath, every exhale a whiny moan.

"Only y-yours, Tae--fuck, want you, just you-- gah..." It was hard to speak when his body was jolting forward roughly with every thrust, his strong arms flexing to keep his head from thudding into the concrete wall from the brute force his boyfriend fucked him with.

"Don't want anybody else to fuck me, your cock-- ah, your cock is the fuckin' best... Want you foreve-eer, shit..." His moans were bordering on sobs at this point, the mixture of pleasure, slight pain, and his love for the elder made the entire experience euphoric; and Jungkook was addicted to it. They've done this countless times, and instead of growing bored of it, the younger wanted more, more, more.

"Wanna cum, babe, please-- can I touch myself?" Kook's eyes open, staring down at his bobbing, swollen cock, the reddened tip drooling with precum, aching for any touch. "Tell me I can, please."

“We’ll do it together,” letting go of one of Jungkook’s slightly-bruised hips, Taehyung reached for the younger’s hand that rested on the dirtied wall, leading it downwards to where Kook’s firm, pretty cock sprung with the sustained pace of his thrusts. Taehyung forced Jungkook’s fingers to close in tight around his own shaft, the elder’s bigger hand applying extra pressure as he jerked them in sync up and down, up and down..

The leaking precum sitting atop Kook’s tip helped alleviate the glide, movements swift and aggressive. Taehyung was the one in charge, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum..” He wrapped his arm around Jungkook’s delicate waist, pulling him in until his gasping chest molded against the small dip of Koo’s slick back.

“Cum with me, baby.” Taehyung’s jerk of his sore hand never faltered, and neither did each shove into Jungkook’s insides. He was much too excited to get them both over the edge, the upcoming release a certain high he could never get tired of.

Jungkook's loud, shameless sounds were a mixture of sobs and moans from the overwhelming sensations, his slick cock aggressively working towards his release along with his boyfriend's cock forcibly prodding at his sensitive prostate over and over. Kook's was fuckin' done for, he couldn't even attempt to hold back his orgasm if he tried.

"S-shit, fuck, fuuck--!" Nothing but curses rolled off his swollen tongue, words a foreign concept pushed to the back of his mind when all he could think about was Taehyung's fat cock entering him again, and again until every musce in his body tensed up, his cock stiffening in the grasp of both men before it began to pulsate in a rhytmical pattern, spurts of cum gushing out against the concrete wall.

"God-- cumming, ah, o-ouch..." Kook's high pitched whines in pleasure distorted into oversensitivity quickly, pressing his forehead against the dirty wall, gnashing his teeth together. "D-don't stop, please, cum in me-- T-taehyung.." His breathy voice pleaded, his thighs shaking to keep him up. He was grateful for the tight hold of his boyfriend around his waist, or he was sure he'd fall to his knees without a doubt.

“Oh fuuck, that’s my boy.. you’re cumming— hmph!, so much, cute.” Taehyung’s hips mindlessly picked up their thrusting until they stuttered, sleek body coming to a complete stop before Tae threw his head forward in a rasped shout, swelled cock twitching as it released the elder’s heavy load deep into his boyfriend’s clutching insides.

“A-ah.. ah, oh..” The hold around Jungkook’s waist had tightened, holding him closer as Taehyung’s way to steady himself after such a powerful climax. The elder’s body quivered slightly, feeling himself slowly soften while his cum dripped from out of Jungkook, running down the latter’s wobbly legs and onto the ground.

“Wow..”

He made sure Kook was steady enough before pulling out, withdrawing from the younger and immediately resting his back against the wall. Taehyung wiped at his face with the lower fabric of his shirt, the material sticking closely to his heaving chest.

“That was great, I didn’t think you’d let me fuck you in a public place.” Tae turned to look at Jungkook after tucking himself back in, smiling tiredly. 

“You simp... I know you wouldn’t have done that for anyone else.” Now Taehyung was teasing, giggling cheekily as he called Koo out for his unforeseen actions.

© sombreboy 2020. Do not edit, repost or translate.

[thirsthourdemon]

Headcanon on their online platforms but mainly on Twitch, onlyfans stuff, patreon, tumblr

Includes: Demon bros + undateablesss

Genre: Crack, Fluff and slight smut

Warnings: NSFW mentions

||Lucifer

-He didn’t have a big online presence because he was active, no no

-He had an online presence cause everyone always sees him on Diavolo s pictures and such so for a time they shared an audience

-One time Diavolo and Barbatos were doing a thing where they read a book aloud for some sort of game

-Diavolo kind of recorded that for a little bit

-ASMR I TELL YOU

-People liked it so much they suggested for “the one with the deep cold voice”, luci, to do asmr on youtube or something

-He doesn’t know what an Onlyfans is however he does have a patreon.

-Diavolo was interested in the idea and discussed it with him

-HE BLEW UP CAUSE EVERYONE WAS FREAKING OUT OVER HOW AMAZING HIS VOICE WAS OF COURSE! 😡

-His fandom consists of either people who are interested in what he reads or...Horny people who get off at how proper and low his voice is

-His profile picture is a picture of him with his head cropped out where he’s fixing his gloves

-Luci isnt like super famous but he has a loyal fanbase that appreciates him a lot also lots of simps with daddy issues

-He was confused as to why someone would ask him to be their father

-He gets the daddy kink but why???

-Last post: A picture MC took where he’s holding a whip cause mammon fucked something up 🙂

||Mammon

-Bold of us to assume he didn’t already have one

-You already know why he’s on here.

-He has random content but he mainly got his audience since he kind of tried modeling thing for a while. It was for a big brand on their new jock type jackets

-Mammon really wanted cash at that time and he got the thing over and done with making him a couple more grims richer

-The photographers told him they could transfer the pictures though! So he just saved his pictures because “Who wouldn’t want a picture of THE mammon?”

-That gave him the idea

-His audience? Whoreknee

-They even accept the fact that his captions for some pictures are “You should be honored you get pictures of me”

-He posts that with a blushing face half of the time HAHAHAHA

-Levi found it and just laughed at the pictures

-Surprisingly enough the pictures were actually well taken because MC was forced into em

-His most popular picture was the one with him was actually a picture that the brothers took of him tucking in what appeared to be goldie on a seperate MINI BED WITH A SMALL TOY LAMP BESIDE IT

-He did a QnA for his followers to celebrate on his instagram

-PFFTT He got so many questions about Goldie

-Was dubbed “Goldie’s Daddy” after that

-Last post: A picture of him wearing the new Luxury brand jacket he got and his keys in front of his car with the caption “Daddy’s going for a ride”

||Leviathan

-I’ve always head canon that Levi knows how to draw digital emotes. Like he just picked it up cause he wanted to make fanart of him in henry together 😔

-Also has a red bubble or an etsy where he sells some prints and stickers of fanart 👀

-He went on twitch since there were so many TSL streamers there who just played games while they discussed theories as well

-Levi is an emote artist and while he draws he sometimes just discusses the theories with his fellow Yucky Otakus

-He’s the type to really interact with everyone even though he barely does that in real life

-Sometimes though when he gets packages that fans sent or ones that he ordered he’d stream unboxing them.

-He hates showing his face? Oh dont worry He’s wearing a facemask and all that

-His fandom is genuinely into him. Like they actually like him as a person but kinda once got into a scandal on gatekeeping

-He took a break for a bit but he kind of said sorry and everyone just forgave him because he isn’t really the type to do drama and it was just that one instance-

-Overall loved by the community due to how chill he is and how invested he is on fan theories

-He has a twitter btw and lemme tell you it’s just threads and threads of discussions

-Whenever he does stream unboxing videos though and he shows his shelves everyone freaks out how he has EVERY FUCKING VOLUME OF EVERY ANIME AND GAME

-People sometimes ask him personal questions and he tries his best to try to answer them but he shows a face where he looks uncomfy

-Everyone just bullies anyone who makes him uncomfy giving his fanbase a very protective reputation

-Last post: “Unboxing fanmail L8er @ 10pm LOL CYA GUYS XD”

||Satan

-He has a tumblr. You cant tell me he doesn’t have one.

-He had tumblr like back in the old day though like when porn was still available here.

-Get this...He’s known all through out the academia blogs. He INVENTED Academia

-Satan has 1 blog and that’s it. It’s his main blog and he just posts pictures of the book cover and does essays, reviews or sometimes he writes the ending he wanted to happen.

-Dont get me wrong he has a patreon but only because people loved getting more exclusive takes of stuff like his book notes on certain pages or sometimes his notes and thoughts on Artistic Erotica

-Probably has a Ko-Fi because he though he needed it after most of the blogs he followed had it

-He thinks it should be “Table of Content” and not “Masterlist” so he uses just that

-Profile picture is him wearing his signature washed out green grandma sweater while he has a book in hand and a cup of earl grey on his table

-People go to him falling in love with his aesthetic and Book reviews but they stay in love with him because he is big on one on one discussions actually

-He goes for one on one voice calls where he just...He talks to you about any book of your choosing

-Fans send him tea but he knows better than to eat something a stranger gives so he makes beel take a taste first sometimes but ultimately scolds the boy when he takes too much

-He wasn’t supposed to have merch but everyone liked the idea of small packages (More like letters) that really do look old and vintage

-He usually only give those to the people who pay for the top tier stuff

-It usually contains 1 type of tea, a letter he wrote for them himself and a bookmark with his name stamped on it

-He got the stamp custom made ❤️

-Last post: (Insert 5k word essay)

This is what I thought of Edgar Allan Poe’s “A cask of Amatillado”

Playlist: (Insert soft classic Music playlist on Spotify)

Tea: Black Currant

||Asmodeus

-ONLY FANS THROUGH AND THROUGH

-Is a brand influencer as well

-The brand ambassador of this pretty well known semi-luxury skin care brand

-His devilgram? Perfectly made by his PR team which is just him and solomon

-Before I move onto the NSFW stuff I want to emphasize how Beautiful his instagram is and his aesthetic

-His aesthetic is romantic/sexual tension/Unparalleled beauty

-Also a make up brand influencer and has his own make up line

-something along the lines of “The Devil’s box of charms 🖤”

-The type to DG live whenever he’s just showing off the make up look he did or the outfit he got

-The house of lamentation may have PR packages stacking up due to how most of them have an online influence but out of 10 boxes 7 of them would be for Asmo

-OKAY NOW ONTO NSFW STUFF

-Lemme tell you this...He has a specific drawer and space in his closet just for the sexy outfits he has.

-The demon’s onlyfans has pictures of him just teasing his audience where he’s wearing a black skintight get up and his bulge is showing

-Nudes are for mid and top tiers

-His fandom loves seeing in stocking and chokers

-“The choker is from etsy and here’s the link to their shop~”

-He doesnt completely show his body but...Him in suggestive clothing gets everyone pre cumming

-His fandom is just filled with simps 😔

-He loves them and blows a kiss towards the camera everytime he ends a live

-Probably has had a scandal or 4

-Posted an Ahegao once and everyone lost it

-Has been the face for Ahegaos ever since

-Belle delphine who?

-Definitely tik tok famous too 😎

-Has memorized all of Doja Cat’s songs

-Last post: “Hope you guys are ready for tonight’s session~ 😈” With a picture of him in an Fuchsia and black themed lingerie set. A collar with a bell on it.

-Bonus: One time Solomon summoned him while he was taking pictures and he was still in his lingerie set. 😛

||Beelzebub

-Was originally inspired by Mukbangs Channels so he did them on youtube too

-You get his Mukbangs on your recommended, You subscribe because of his cute and funny reactions whenever someone in the backgrounds is astounded to how much he’s eating

-Everyone knew beel as a cute guy who just does Mukbangs and loves to eat

-He once did a fridge raid and ended up eating everything in the fridge

-That was THE MOST CHAOTIC VIDEO on his channel cause you can just see luci and MC trying to make him stop

-He eventually got a patreon because mammon told him people will give him more money for food like that and to be honest he made a patreon but mammon takes care of it from time to time

-Oh you knew him as this sweet beautiful boy who just likes eating? hERe HavE sOmE WorKOUt pICs

-His body got everyone thirsty or may I say Starving

-S I M P S everywhere

-His patreon content is just him making small videos eating or pictures of him being all sweaty from the gym 😛💦

-“DADDY BWDONMXMSKC PLEASE FEED US”

-“Eh? You should feed me instead” *opens his mouth*

-Fans send him lots of boxes of weird food to see his reaction sometimes

-Did the fire noodle challenge a bit late but everyone is surprised to how he isn’t giving the reaction like they expected him

-Spice tolerance? Unmatched

-His fandom is either “UwU Beel please eat try this!” Or “Daddy Please FEED US WITH YOUR DELICIOUS THIGHS! 😩🥵💦💦💦”

-He does the service where he sends you his body building pictures except he isn’t sending them, Mammon is.

-Manager Mammon 😎 Gets a half of the profit

-Can I just...BeelProbablyHasnevergottenintoanyscandalbuthasalotofhaterssayingthefansonlylikehimforhishandsomefaceandgreatbodyandnicevoicebutlikewhatiswrongwithlikinghimbecauseofthosethings?Itisntbadtolikethatstuffatall

-Last post: “🍙 Thank you to @(Your Username) for the Onigiri! I finished the whole batch! Please send more food”

||Belphegor

-Sleep Guru

-Im sorry but I cant see him having any other social media aside from tumblr, twitter and Devilgram

-Belphie barely checks his phone but he has tumblr because apparently there’s a thing called the SandMan’s Box Community

-It’s like LootCrate, a subscription service that gives you stuff like Comfy Pillow sheets and tea for better sleeping

-This even gives you something like sleeping masks or ear muffs.

-The community is well...nocturnal

-His ask box is always full of his 100+ mutuals who just discuss stuff with him

-Whenever he actually does try to type online he makes articles about the best sleep positions or stuff like that

-His fandom is just loving mutuals who sleep and take care of each other

-They have a discord server where it just plays soft music to help everyone sleep

-Last post: “Humans aren’t so bad when they’re asleep”

||Luke and Simeon

-He has a big following on twitch where he just bakes sweets in his cute little hat and-

-Clearly you can tell I follow him on twitch

-The type of twitch streamer that no one hates on because why would you? He is literally just baking and cute comments

-Sometimes he streams with Simeon and everyone loves both of them

-When people give money they dont give “money” no no...they call donating headpats

-Luke is just so adorable that everyone just...

-“Angel Lulu’s Protection Squad⭐️”

-He got famous when he...He doesnt want to call it a collab but He made a lot of sweets and gave them to beel so everyone freaked out and thought

-THE SWEET BOY THAT EATS A LOT AND THE ANGELIC CHILD THAT MAKES SWEETS A LOT ARE FRIENDS?!

-He is now pissed that everyone thinks they’re friends 😠

-Basically his fans started making dishes and candy inspired by him

-Sometimes they send it in and Simeon has to confiscate some because

-“Im sorry, guys. You are all really sweet and I know that you mean well but Luke isn’t allowed much sweets yet”

-No one ever EVER lewds luke

-Fortunately Luke’s fandom has the least amount of pedophiles because everyone drives them away the moment they try something

-Whenever luke does fan mail/unboxing videos people just adore how Simeon places a glass of water at the table below the camera and the scissors or cutter he uses is child proof

-Even though Luke is the main person on his account everyone also notices Simeon.

-How couldn’t they? He looked like he wanted to make everyone in the audience live a better life

-Add that with luke’s wholesome baking and BOOM! You are now ready for a better life🌟

-Last post: It’s a picture of Luke shyly showing of his new batch of sun and moon shaped sugar cookies. “Sun and Moon. Tune in later at 3 pm to see how we made these!”

||Solomon

-He barely posts but he helps asmodeus with his stuff

-Too busy with anything else but helps out when things get interesting

-Proposes Ideas for Asmo sometimes when the demon doesn’t know what to wear for a live or a story

-Laughs at Asmo sometimes when he gets into scandals and drama

-Happy cameraman ❤️

-People follow him because 1.) He’s hot 2.) The fans ship him with Asmodeus

-Last Post: “When will you learn 🙂”

||Diavolo

-He is a vlogger~ Not a very active vlogger but a vlogger nonetheless

-He films anything he can but he’s more known on tik tok and devilgram rather than twitch or youtube

-People have been thirsting for him ever since and no one can convince me that they dont just shamelessly call him daddy whenever he goes on live

-Barbatos makes sure however that whenever it isnt appropriate anymore that he would tell diavolo to turn the camera off

-Wranggled Luci into his mess and now everyone knows the face of that one dude who just reads documents

-Everyone lowkey ships them

-Diavolo is the type to take a picture of a big meeting or a retreat out of instinct to just document his life

-He actually didnt know about vloggers before but he just liked the thought of documenting it

-Everyone picks up “Master” vibes as they say from him hehehe

-He doesnt have an Onlyfans or patreon 😔😔😔

-I honestly would have subscribed to his services

-Last post: “Barbatos made a delicious meal for us at the retreat today” Along with a picture of the Beautiful Demon Delicacy Spread in the table.

Taglist: No one yet (Please be part of the taglist for more content like this ☹️ It’s getting really discouraging)

[catboyroycebracket]

Seeing your transistor posts always immediately throw me back into obsessing over it. Do you have any thoughts on the country? Surface level it feels like a sort of 'heaven' to cloudbank but (and I might be misremembering/ reading too much into it) it feels almost like a sort of paradise in comparison to cloudbank

>:) !!! proud to reignite such an obsession!!!! the country is SO mysterious its so much fun.. it mostly raises even more questions about the worlds structure for me. its like, this "higher" layer/plane of semi-digital (digitized?) existence, where cloudbank is the "base" layer and the process is on an unseen "slightly below base" layer, but this doesnt at all explain how cloudbank came to be, just how digital vs tangible it is, or how one enters cloudbank to begin with.. its so strange!! you can get in but you cant get out.. and it is INSIDE the transistor .......

i believe mr kasavin talked about how an important aspect of the city vs country worldbuilding he wanted to establish was making it apparent that for cloudbank citizens theres an even *better* place to live. even though cloudbank is an idyllic utopia where pain is near nonexistant and everyone spends their lives doing what they love most to better their city.. theres still an even *more* idyllic and *more* utopic place thats extremely desirable. you will work hard enough to retire and earn a vacation outside the city forever.. the country is poised as this perfect escape from the already-perfect city where things will be forever most perfect.. yet no one knows anything about it..

the city vs country theming for mortal life vs afterlife is also fascinating. the concept of structuring your entire life around working but then upon death you Never work again.. vocation is something chosen and beloved by cloudbank citizens and its implied they dont work for survival or under any sort of oppressive conditions.. so why would you aspire to one day finish it and never return..? and the fact everyone chooses for themself when to die.. this Contrast of living for work and dying to never work again HAS to have an alternate meaning for this world that just!!! isnt told to us!!!!! how could a city where technology is advanced to the point of eradicating illness, a city where everyone is given a direct purpose to follow, have a visitation time limit after which you are to wander an infinite farm under an infinite sky......!!!!!!

"see you in the country" sounds like a blessing/wish/farewell phrase of sorts but may be fully literal? the way citizens refer to it cryptically as in an almost metaphorical way suggests its un-studyable and possibly just an aspiration, the same way the word "heaven" functions in everyday language without attachment to any specific religious beliefs, but then the fact we SEE onscreen that the country is indeed real and does look like a countryside!!!!!!! is even more mysterious!!!!!!! how did they know to call it the country if you cannot view it or know anything about it when youre in the city!!!!!! is "the country" just a nickname??? does it look like a countryside for all that go there or was that specific to our protagonists??!!??! the fact we actually see the elusive paradisiacal otherworld in the bittersweet ending we fought so hard for is so puzzling!!!!!! are all dead people in the same country ? if not, can they venture out and meet eachother?? are they immortal there like in the christian concepts of an afterlife? can they go really Never go back to the city? how do they function there if their existence in the city was something controlled by a digital system.. how different is that system between country and city.. what even is there to do there.. there has to be more to it thats just never shown to us.

its all so mysterious. i DONT know whats up!!!!! but its my personal belief that the camerata get really into baking wherever they are in there 😏

[yeoldontknow]

Back To The Stars: Primis

Author: @yeoldontknow​ as part of The Fault of Light collaboration with @j-pping​ Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader (oc; female) Genre: astronaut!au; space travel!au; mars mission!au; soulmate themes; romance; smut; heavy angst; themes of abandonment Summary (this installment): Chanyeol is 11 years old the first time someone walks on the Moon. He is 11, and already he feels his life is changing. Rating (this installment): G Warnings: none; chanyeol is just a cute beybey with his big ears and big eyes and big heart and big excitement and i made myself terribly soft for someone who doesnt really like writing children :( Word Count: 4.2K

masterlist

JULY 20, 1969

It’s the biggest televised event since the coronation of Queen Elizabeth.

At least, that’s what his teachers tell him. 

He struggles to understand the magnitude of their words, finding it terribly difficult to wrap his mind around the concept that Kings and Queens could still exist. It seems very fanciful, this idea, but he likes that some kind of magic still seemingly exists within the world. Having spent so long ensuring his best grades are on mathematics and science, keeping his father placated, he feels reassured that there is some truth to fairy tales - a new Queen stepped into power; the books on his shelves are true even if he does not understand why, even if he was not alive to witness it.

Even if his family was still in Korea, so far removed from the pomp and circumstance of this celebration he doubts his parents even remember the significance of such an occasion.

Cuddling into his mother’s side, Chanyeol presses himself deeply into the couch, and listens intently to the anxious chattering of his father as he turns the dial of the TV. It is one hour past his bedtime, and already his eyelids feel heavy with sleep, but he and his sister have finally been allowed to witness the secret activities of adults after they have been tucked into their sheets, and so he listens, not wanting to miss any details. Lips set in a small pout, he nods in time with his father’s pauses, hoping this makes him look mature and astute, wanting, more than anything, to be encouraging.

This is the single most important moment of his career, he says, and Chanyeol hums, aware that his father has been a mathematician his whole life, presumably always, the concept of a career so far reaching and permanent he knits his brow together as he tries to fathom it.

This is precisely why he brought the family to America, and therefore this evening is momentous and personal. Chanyeol was very small when they immigrated to the country, but he distinctly remembers the terribly long boat journey and the way his mother always looked pale and slim under the dim lighting, lips pressed into a tightly shaped grimace that never managed to smear her lipstick. He enjoyed the spray of the ocean as he hung over the railings, and even now he can recall the faint droplets of mist on his fingers; the sort of refreshing happiness that still makes him release a giggle, recalling the faint bubbles on his skin, and his mother hugs him to her side tightly, pleased by the sound as she presses a kiss to the crown of his head. 

He remembers the journey, and while he still does not yet fully appreciate why they are here, he knows his mother likes this house more than the other, and that it made his parents happy enough to provide him a sibling. This kind of enthusiasm is something he understands quite well. At eleven years old, he thinks everything should carry this kind of excitement, and so it is nice to see his father finally allowing the tone of it to saturate his words, not just his actions.

And tonight, this is the most excited his father has ever been. 

Slowly, and with careful footsteps, his father backs away from the television, doing his best not to introduce any static by interfering with the antenna behind the box. The barely contained apprehension and exhilaration in his joints keeps his limbs remarkably still, even as he relaxes into the reclining chair without truly relaxing at all. Leaning forward on his knees, he adjusts his glasses on the tip of his nose and releases a slow, almost silent sigh. Chanyeol releases his own deep breath, hoping he sounds just as serious and invested.

'How come you're not there, Papa?' he questions, looking between his father and the television.

For months, he has been working late, coming home with deep set bags under his eyes long after supper has been cleaned and put away. It strikes him now that his father came home relatively on time today, joining them for dinner without eating, talking in large, complicated theories and figures that has his mother nodding in interest. Kicking his feet against the couch excitedly, he wonders if, maybe, he will see his father on the television.

'They don't need me there,' he explains, getting off the chair to turn the volume up. 'I helped with only some of math, some of the planning. Essential people are there to provide emergency support.'

'Oh,' he hums airily, and his mother chuckles, pointing at the screen for him to pay attention.

Muffled voices speak over an insignia he can only just make out. Low and gruff in their authoritative urgency, they confirm a rotational degree that has his father releasing a grunt of confirmation, seemingly pleased by the number. Over and over, he traces the shape of the logo with his eyes, its blurry letters arched elegantly above a rocky landscape. CBS news broadcasters talk amongst themselves in between command announcements, narrating a screen they confirm to be an animation, and Chanyeol’s eyes bug slightly, having been convinced the rocket was entirely real. A countdown clock depicts twelve minutes and twenty-seven seconds until touchdown, the rocket releasing a blast that has fire streaking across the screen. 

Wiggling out of his mother’s hold, he leans forward and points. 'What's that, Papa?'

'Those are the thrusters,’ he says quickly, though he does his best to keep his voice gentle, doing his best to educate. ‘They help with getting the rocket into orbit for landing.’

Transfixed, he stares at the screen and reads the numbers in English. Recently, his teachers praised him for his excellent reading skills, and he takes his time forming the words with his mouth and tongue, ensuring there is no trace of his natural accent. 

‘Velocity is 4,000 F.P.S,’ he recites, folding his hands in his lap, proud that he can pronounce numbers so well in his second language. ‘Altitude is 45,000 feet. That’s higher than Mount Everest, Mama,’ he says, offering her an informative smile as he, too, adjusts the glasses perched on his nose.

‘Is it?’ she asks, sounding surprised. Keen to hear more, she leans close, regarding him expectantly.

‘Yes,’ he nods seriously. ‘We just learned about it in geography this week. This is higher by about…’ Knotting his brow together once more, he quickly does mental math the way his father taught him to, converting kilometers to feet, counting diligently with his fingers. ‘By 15,900 feet,’ he finishes confidently.

‘That’s very high,’ she affirms, looking at the television in wonder. ‘And some very large numbers. You did well.’

‘Well, I am eleven,’ he chastises, because she should know that he is old enough to manage the digits and carry his zeros well. 

Still, it bothers him that he does not have a proper scale to understand how high these numbers are in physical metrics, and he quietly makes a plan to create this with his own hands by collecting popsicle sticks his sister discards after her snack.

Focusing his attention back to the screen, he sees that it has changed, the animated rocket moving over the rocky landscape, and now he can finally see the words clearly. The land below the letters is dotted with black holes, some areas brilliantly smooth and others, craggy and mountainous. It is unlike any place he has ever seen, and he casts a sidelong glance to his Atlas in the living room bookshelf, wondering if he missed a page, a country, or, perhaps, if he has not studied the section on the sea closely enough.

'Apollo 11,' he reads out loud, cocking his head to the side as he racks his brain for a country with this name. 'Where are they going?'

To no one in particular, his father smiles. 'That's the Moon.'

‘The Moon?’ he exclaims, incredulously. Sitting up straight, he casts his father a bewildered expression, feeling the tips of his ears growing hot in anticipation. ‘This is the Moon landing? We’re watching the Moon Landing? That’s what you’ve been working on? Why didn’t you say anything?’

‘I couldn’t tell you what I was doing.’ The explanation is curt, brief at best, and pressed between the pauses on the television. ‘It was classified. Besides, isn’t this a nice surprise?’

‘No, it’s not,’ he protests. As he speaks, he hears his voice become filled with the emphatic and insistent cadence it adopts when he has been scorned or told that he is wrong when he knows he is right, and while he can hear it happening, knows that this kind of indignant protesting will result in his being scolded, he simply does not know how to stop. ‘Everyone knows someone is going to the Moon. It’s all anyone has been talking about at school.’

‘Yes.’ The nod of vague acquiescence he receives makes his hands grip the cushion of the couch, the tips of his fingers taking on a curious tingle, swollen with adrenaline. ‘But I couldn’t have you telling everyone your father was involved, could I.’

Chanyeol shakes his head vigorously, lips parted in slight dejection. ‘I wouldn’t have told anyone.’

Finally turning to look at him, his father peers at him knowingly over the rim of his glasses, one eyebrow arched in warning. In this false sense of quiet, Chanyeol is filled with the overwhelming sense that he is treading on dangerous waters, his overzealous nature getting the best of him - a habit he has and, at such a young age, is still learning to manage. Silence is difficult, makes his skin hurt when he is this passionate, this eager, finding it impossibly difficult to calm his abject disquiet at being denied information. 

Still, his father’s watchful brow is admonishing enough, words drying in his throat as he crosses his arms over his chest with a quiet huff. 

Falling back into the couch, he frowns and settles back into his mother’s side. ‘Okay,’ he mumbles, doing his best not to sound dramatically despondent. ‘But only just Rodney. He’s my only friend, and he’s here all the time anyway.’ 

Turning his attention back to the television, his father effectively puts an end to the conversation. ‘Just watch.’ 

It takes less than six minutes for his sister to fall asleep, shoulders slumping as she curls in their mother’s lap, tiny hands gripping her shirt for comfort. She breathes evenly, peacefully, and while Chanyeol does long to join her, steadily growing more tired the longer he stares at a terrain that looks precisely the same from all directions, something in his belly keeps him awake, far more alert than he usually would be. He can hear it in the voices of the announcers, the way they say just enough, never too much, mystified just the same by the words of the commanders. 

As time passes, he latches on to certain phrases, words that normally would not go together but sound remarkable when said within the same breath. 

Fuel Monitor. Approach phase.

His vocabulary books have not yet taught him some of these words, but he recalls, very distantly, hearing his father muttering numbers and ratios alongside these phrases late at night while hunched over the dining table. Sometimes, when he would sneak down from his bedroom in the late hours of the night for a glass of water, Chanyeol would see him curled over in his chair, scribbling notes in the dim light of a desk lap. At the time, they sounded musical, like lullabies he might have been rehearsing to help his sister fall asleep.

Now, he chastises himself for not having paid attention to the way they are heavy, powerful, curving around his tongue as they take hold of parts of him he did not know existed. They cling to him, burrow down into his marrow and settle, not unlike roots.

Wondering how they would sound coming from his mouth, in his voice, he mumbles to himself, silently letting them escape on his exhale, trying them on for size. All at once he feels terribly important, the sudden weight of responsibility impossibly great, and so he returns to simply watching, feeling as though he has rushed himself somewhere he is not yet ready to be, but wants just the same.

When the countdown hits zero, he expects a cacophony of noise, and inwardly prepares for an eruption of joy so volatile he thinks the earth may crumble. It is finished, so therefore everyone should be celebrating its completion, but still his father remains seated - though, he is hardly in his chair at all. Over time, he has inched forward on the cushion, preciously balanced on the edge as he presses the palms of his hands into the fabric of his slacks. 

Everyone seems to be waiting, and so he decides to wait too, the tension in the room feeling not unlike the threat of loss. Wringing his hands together, he squirms restlessly, room so quiet he wonders if anyone is even breathing, if even the men on the news have decided to stop the air in their lungs, oxygen unnecessary now that men have learned to walk through space. 

Eventually, after what feels like an impossibly long time, he hears it:

“Houston, the Eagle has landed.”

In one swift motion, his father leaps from his chair, hands clutched at his sides in fists and eyes latched on the screen as his mouth opens, uncertain if he should laugh or cry or both all at the same time, a guttural noise of unprecedented awe. His mother lifts one hand to her mouth as she laughs, the fervor of her amazement jostling him gently, their determinedly poised expression of triumph somehow wondrously loud. Outside, beyond the picture window of the living room, he can hear other families celebrating, some brought out into the street to set off firecrackers; the magnitude of their excitement a thunder that rolls through the night sky, victorious in nature and marvelously unifying in its breadth.

Craning his neck up and back, he glances out the window to the night sky and studies the moon, her paltry light and her enduring solitude, and he shifts against the couch cushion to get closer. Nestled deeply into the inky black of the night, the moon is not yet full, little more than a sliver of light he thinks could be his fingernail, a piece of him etched into the sky. Never in his life as it appeared so close, the surrounding shadows doing little to mistake her shape for smallness, so near to him now he imagines he could reach out and touch it. He tries to picture it, the bodies of people walking along the surface as he holds it in his hands, tries to imagine them, their figures moving through the light, but sees nothing, just the rise and fall of her light, the craters and the white. 

When he looks back at the broadcast, once more the scene has changed but this time the animations and projections have completely disappeared. Now, it is simply the Moon - the Moon and its landscape, inching ever closer as the rocket made its descent. A small notice in the corner states that footage comes with a delay, and therefore he is seeing, now, what he should have been seeing several minutes ago. He falls into them the same way the rocket seemed to fall slowly, delicately, to the surface, as though he was there, as though this secondary, retroactive landing is all his own.

Gripping the edge of the cushion, he finds there is something profoundly compelling about the surface of the Moon, and all its vast emptiness. Though there is nothing, it seems there is an ever present something, an itch at the back of his mind that feels perplexingly like delight and disappointment at the same time. 

‘How come we’re only seeing these now?’

Looking to his father for just a moment, he hopes there is a reasonable explanation for why he should only be receiving this information now. Now, when there is likely so much more to be seen, so much more to know, and so much he is unable to see, doing his best not to feel heartbroken at the prospect. 

‘It takes time for the image information to come back to Earth,’ he explains evenly, having finally reclined back into his chair now that the great work has been completed. ‘It takes time for Mission Control to receive, process, and broadcast them.’

It is logical, he knows, but still it is not enough. He thinks nothing will ever be enough, ever again. ‘Why?

Chuckling, his father releases a sigh. ‘Light has to travel between Earth and the Moon, and our technology just hasn’t caught up with light yet.’ He pauses momentarily, falling quiet in that dreamy way Chanyeol admires when his father is about to say something profound, something that always makes him feel like puzzles are the embodiment of bliss. ‘It will, though, one day.’

Chanyeol likes that idea, the notion that something, anything, could move alongside beams of light. Sometimes, when his mother lets him set up the tent in the backyard, he takes his flashlight and his binoculars out and points them to the sky, hoping for a better view of the stars. The beam from his flashlight reaches upward, higher than his own arms can stretch, far past the trees and up into nothingness. It always seems to happen in an instant.

‘How fast is light?’

His father hums, considering the question. ‘Think about it this way,’ he begins, still sounding far away, immersed in his thoughts. ‘It takes light from the Sun eight minutes and seventeen seconds to reach Earth.’ Chanyeol’s eyes widen, acutely aware of the vast distance between the Sun and the Earth, and the way his parent’s Buick could never go that fast - not even the boat they took to get here could compete. ‘Imagine moving that fast.’

His attention moves back to the lunar surface, eyes still wide as he studies the deep craters and the way the black of the sky beyond is somehow even more black than the one he sees beyond his window. This black is infinite, all consuming, and he has the creeping sensation that if he were to reach out to touch it, his very hand would disappear. Swallowing thickly, he stares at it, mystified, trying to recall if the monochrome of their television has ever been so dark. 

“It’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”

A laugh erupts from his father, the loudest his laugh has ever been and his mother simply shakes her head, voice having fled perhaps to where the stars are hung. Chanyeol watches as his father laughs and claps his hands, a myriad of emotions walking over his face with each exhale of breath. 

‘Whose voice is that?’ he asks, wanting to know who made his father so happy.

‘Astronaut Neil Armstrong.’ 

Astronaut. This is a word he knows, one his classmates have been saying repeatedly over the last three days. The first time he’d heard it, he returned home and went immediately to his mother’s English dictionary, searching for a better definition than the one his peers have provided. 

Astronaut. A noun. Added to English lexicon in 1929, a date not too far reaching in the past, a date that reminds him of sepia toned white linen clothes and Japan. A compound of Astron and Nautes, Greek for Star and Sailor respectively. Popularized in 1961 due to America’s space travel program, now meaning space-traveler. 

He likes Star Sailor better, but up until this moment he had no frame of reference for the application, no sense of who would do such a thing, or how. Astronaut Neil Armstrong has a rich voice, one that he likes listening to, clear toned and full of good humor. Apprehension waits at the back of each of his words, every word he says a first, every step he takes a first, everything about Neil Armstrong is first.

‘I could do that,’ he whispers to no one, just for himself and the sky.

Gripped by his sudden jealousy, by Neil Armstrong’s voice, and the way he must wait, impatiently, for several minutes just to see something new, he seemingly both forgets his parents are in the room with him and wishes, simultaneously and all the way into his blood, that it was him on the Moon and not Neil. He doesn’t want to wait to see it all, he wants every moment to be filled with this kind of enterprising discovery, this kind of relentless adventure. It is not enough to see the high contrast of black and white on the screen, because he knows, as though he has always known, the world beyond is so much more colourful than this. 

Sometimes, when he goes camping with Rodney and his parents, they sneak out of their tent long past bedtime and look up at the stars - the sky dotted endlessly with blots of light. In the shimmer of night, the light has colours - the sky a deep purple, the stars a mix of red and blue and yellow, sometimes even green in their hue. Surely, the view from the moon must be just as brilliant, and Chanyeol hates that he is not seeing it, not really, not for himself. 

It’s when Neil Armstrong begins to jump that things begin to change, the lines between himself and the astronaut blurring altogether. In the low gravity of the Moon, the scene fades from the surface of the moon to something new entirely, the broadcasters laughing incredulously at the sheer silliness of it. Neil Armstrong takes long strides, lifting off the balls of his feet and jumping forward, landing gently on the surface before repeating the action.

Everyone is laughing. Neil’s voice is full of childish glee. His father presses his head back into the cushion of the chair, eyes closed as though welcoming a rapture. Beside him, his mother swallows her laughter, afraid of moving too much and waking his sister. Chanyeol thinks the whole world might be laughing in unison, bonded by the pure euphoria of this moment.

But he is excluded from this. He is not euphoric. He is ravenous.

Chanyeol rises to a stand, convinced now that he is just the same as Neil and, because there is no difference, he should not have to wait to touch the Moon himself. 

Moving through the living room with fast strides, he is reminded of his mother’s rule that there is no running in the house. He’s not really running, he thinks, moving at a speed just below the true definition of running, passing through the kitchen to the sliding glass door and into the back yard. Behind him, his parents are calling out, demanding that he come back to the couch. But he ignores them, eyes trained on his singular goal.

Summer’s trampoline is set up in the center of the soft grass, just beyond the patio. A consolation for their lack of a pool, he spends most of his days bouncing while his sister watches from the side, head craned upward to watch him soar. He’s been tremendously silly, he thinks, spending nearly the entire month of June and into July attempting a back flip when he should have been doing this.

Hippity hoppity.

Climbing onto the trampoline, he takes off his slippers and socks, tossing them over the side and into the grass. His mother lingers in the doorway, calling for him to come down and come back inside, but he doesn’t listen. Chanyeol jumps, bracing himself and bending his knees for each landing so he can gain more height, more speed. With each rise and fall he keeps his eyes trained on the Moon, the sliver of light that looms ever closer, growing more bright the longer he looks. At his highest point, he reaches out his arms, letting his hands trace its edges, before falling away, slipping away back to Earth. 

If he gets close enough, he is certain he could grab hold of it, certain that he too is defying gravity, the laws of science that his father so often lectures him about. Putting more force into his knees, he jumps again, his mother’s voice a scolding bark of annoyance and irritation - claiming that he will break the trampoline, that he will hurt himself, that he will wake his sister and other neighbors. 

Let them see, he thinks. Chanyeol wants them all to watch as he grabs hold of the Moon and refuses to let go. 

Because, why shouldn’t it be him?

Hippity hoppity.

Author’s Note: this originally was intended to be part of the much larger one shot, but as i was writing i felt that it kind of stood alone as more a prologue than anything else. this moment is not referenced again in the full story, but it does set up a lot of information about chanyeol, why he goes to space to begin with, and will be reflected in a different scene within the full story. @j-pping​ and i both agreed it suits the series best as a prologue so i hope you enjoy it ;--;

Research Notes: i watched the archival footage of the Moon landing from NASA and CBS news archives. the quotes italicized were actual words said during the landing. neil’s famous quote is actually ‘one small step for a man [...]’ however due to delay and dropped frequency the word was lost - this is also why most commands and answers were four words at max. the original news broadcast was done in technicolor, however owning a TV in technicolor was still not entirely common in the 60s and become more prominent in the early 70s, hence why Chanyeol watches everything in black and white. if anyone reading this is an astrophysicist, im doing my best to research everything featured in this story to precise accuracy but if something is wrong im sorry and please let me know :(

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