#genshin flags

[koisplosion]

★ Anemo Vision ★

A flag for the Anemo Vision element from Genshin Impact

Intended use for Anemo Vision holders, users of and others aligned with the element Anemo, followers of Barbatos the Anemo Archon and any and all reasons related to Anemo Visions.

Request status on the inbox

Please read the byf linked in fox's pinned post

[f-ai-n]

Been feeling frustrated recently

Feel free to read more about it: https://x.com/trendasia_org/status/1826241657169436841?s=46

[lyss-sketchbox]

Dragon partner being just a teensy bit possessive

[burningparadiseduck]

Neuvillette is the greenest green flag to ever exist in this green world.

[vilevanessa]

to my future husband :

im so sorry because i will never love you the same way i love Kinich from Genshin Impact and he outdoes you in every way humanly possible , your Wife is convinced kinich from genshin impact is an ideal man and so much more but she cannot bag him in real life so she settles with you and it’s very much a shame

[m1d-45]

bloodletting

summary: a budding god needs a place to test their new powers, and childe was always a little too eager to lose a fight... a match made in heaven!

word count: 1.7k

-> warnings : minor AQ spoilers ? just like, general gi plot.. fairly graphic depiction of blood + other injuries (might be classed as body horror???). generally obsessive tendencies (childe <--> you). i cannot stress this enough, reader is 110% a sadist.

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

power was not something that came easy. it was fought over, stolen, defended with teeth and claw, tides of blood shed just so one could have power over another. social, physical, financial; no matter the leverage it provided, power was hard won. to give someone power was to admit defeat, a certain death that tartaglia had learned and taught more than his fair share of times. nobody undeserving of power ever held onto it for long; it was an acknowledgement that you were better, that you deserved it, that you’d won. power was a fickle resource that childe would kill to keep, only ever laying down his blade for a precious few.

the tsaritsa, of course. his fellow harbingers, skilled both on and off-field, who themselves could rival the archons. his family, for whom he’d happily give the world.

and naturally, who would be more worthy to hold power than you?

you, not just a god but the, the highest authority across all of teyvat. you bore a hundred names and a thousand monikers, your worship the one thing the world could agree on. granted, nobody could quite agree on how, but that was fine. childe did not need external powers to tell him what to do. he knew, in his deepest heart, that he had gotten it right.

he knew—and, on occasion, flaunted—that he was your favorite. of all the vessels you had chosen, you returned to him time and time again, wishing on his stars until his vision gleamed. his bow shone with power, even his weakest weapon more than enough to push his strength to new heights. part of him wondered what he could do if you’d granted him swords, or a claymore… but that was speculation for another time. didn’t it say something that you had still chosen him at his weakest?

the thought always made him smile. thick in the heat of puppeteered battle, before the sun to after dark, your presence was a constant in his life. at every altar, with every offering, when his hands stung from the rash of leather and his blade was covered in rust, your name a prayer behind blood-soaked teeth. he could not remember a time when his pocket was not weighted with a charm.

his devotion was no secret. he wore your bow with pride, entirely phasing out his other weapons. it didn’t matter that he was technically more controlled with them, for you had chosen this path for him. your word was his guide, a polar star through bitter nights.

he did not doubt when your presence ebbed or flowed. who was he to dictate when or where you spent your attention? no, his faith did not waver. it had no reason to. he waited patiently, going about his regular duties, lingering in snezhnaya for no other reason that he just felt like he had to.

who was he to question to buzzing in the back of his head? who was he to decline when he felt an instinct to leave, to go for a trip far past the city gates? who was he to think himself better than the guiding light that had never led him astray?

for you, he was whatever you needed. and so he went, armed with a thick coat and snowboots, hands shoved deep in the pockets to hide the slight shake. down the main road, an arbitrary turn into an alley and down an abandoned path, into a part of the city he’d never traveled. but a golden thread had tied itself around his heart, pulling without hesitation. he easily hopped over the fence gate, not bothering with hauling it open through the snow. the path beyond was covered in a thick layer of powder, his foot crunching through a foot of it before hitting solid ground. still, he continued.

snezhnayan winters were not warm. they bit and dug into every gap in your clothes, stealing away the precious warmth within. and yet, with his half-done coat and incomplete guard, he was not cold. or, rather, he couldn’t feel it. his hands were pink with frost, stiff at the knuckles, but he couldn’t feel the resistance. his body was not important, not now.

the snow began to thin. it fell from his knees to his shins to his ankles to his toes, until he was face to face with a thick wall of bramble, impossibly overgrown. he was beginning to overheat in his jacket. twin blades made quick work of the wall, and the sight behind it easily dispelled any breath left in his lungs.

the air that washed out of the bubble was thick and heavy, like a humid spring instead of snezhnayan woods. his breath came in short gasps, a shameful wheeze that he hoped was missed beneath the howling snow. he didn’t want you to see him as weak, as someone so easily tired by a short trip to a falling star; he didn’t want you to think of him as anything other than his best.

but you didn’t push him away. you helped him up—his head was buzzing with delusion, he could hardly see, when had he fallen to his knees?—and brushed the snow off his hair, not pushing him away when he leaned into your touch. he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, could barely collect himself enough to recognize that he needed to get you inside, away from the wilds.

that was power. to so effortlessly take over every thought in his head, to hold his mind in your hands and pull it into your liking, that was the power he adored you for. gods were figureheads of power, a physical incarnation of their dominion. a god of the entire world would only naturally have power to manipulate that world to their liking. how blessed was he, that he could be the first you made yours.

he was with you when you first stepped into zapolyarny palace, looking around at the chandeliers and fine tile. he opened the door for you to her majesty’s throne room, sucking in a sharp breath as you brushed by. he was by your side when the tsaritsa swore you her fealty, delicately placing the gnoses in your hands.

and oh, how he’d fallen to the floor right then and there, dizzy from the wash of power that rolled off you in waves, an ocean that he willingly dove into. the floor was cool beneath his forehead, his hair sticking to his skin as sweat quickly began to bead. he didn’t bother pushing himself up on his hands, teeth sinking deep into his lip again to control his panting breath. copper bloomed over his tongue, filling his mouth and clogging what remained of his senses.

dimly, he was aware that he was being pathetic, that this would surely change your mind about him. he heard your voice, faint through the fog of his mind, your wisdom lost to his own inadequacy. and yet, despite his weakness, every part of him was tuned into you. he knew it was your hand whispering across his shoulders, he knew it was your influence that stole the breath from his lungs. he knew it was you, because it was always you. you were all he could think of, and now you were finally able to leverage your full power over his self.

he’d woken up in a hospital bed. saline dripped into his arm and the lights pierced his eyes, his head full of snow and iced over. and yet, the moment he was cleared for release, he found himself desperate to be back to your side, racing through the tiled halls of the palace and following the urgent burn in his chest. you would have been right to turn him away, to deem him too weak to stay by your side, but you didn’t. you smiled when he lost his breath and laughed when he wavered, brushing off his concern. you invited him with you—his lungs burned with the need for oxygen—as you twirled the gnoses between your fingers, as if they were toys or paperweights rather than objects of divine power.

divine to him. child’s play to you. a courtyard of snow was cleared in an instant, ripples of pyro melting permafrost while keeping the flora beneath intact, a lazy show of power that pulled little more than a slight hum from you in response.

he wasn’t so much a fool as to think he could teach you everything, or even something, about being divine. and yet he clung to your side like a sailor in a storm, watching as you grew familiar with the elements. he watched, stubborn and weak, as you stopped hesitating.

flowers bloomed as you walked by, crumbling to ash with the slightest look. electro jumped from your skin to his, a painful spark that drew his mind from his head, finally seeing your amused eyes instead of just mindlessly staring. you could—should—have just left him behind, but you didn’t. you instead asked for his help, taking his hand in yours and leading him to a quieter hallway of the palace. you didn’t comment on his thundering pulse despite the fact that you could certainly feel it, tracing a finger along the crease of his palm.

“i wonder…”

a claw of geo cut across his skin, a sharp sting that quickly welled with blood. he barely felt it, watching with detached awe as it filled up his hand, sliding over the edge and dripping to the floor. you didn’t show any emotion, just… watching. his heart beat in his hands, a pool collecting on the floor, and still, you just watched. your other hand moved over the surface, barely an inch away, the blood collecting in a bubble beneath it. with a hum, your fist tightened, pain lighting up his arm. a strained grunt slipped between his teeth, hand flinching closed, brushing against the ball of his blood you had pulled from his veins. his hand was stained red, shaking in your grasp, minutes stretched into hours.

all at once, it dropped, forced back into his body as forcefully as it was removed. with a snap, the skin stitched itself shut, and you were again dragging him along like a child did their favorite toy.

you did that a lot. pull him aside and experiment with whatever new reaction you had discovered that month, week, day, hour, watching his reactions with unabashed delight. and he let you. every time, without fail, he eagerly followed, knowing full well he’d end up rigid with lightning or with ice crystals studding his throat. it was worth it, though. you always fixed him up, squeezing his hand with a whispered ‘good job’ that never failed to make him dizzy.

it didn’t matter what you did to him. it never did. even when his mind was hazy with pain and he couldn’t quite stand on his own, he never regretted it. unconsciousness licked at the edges of his vision, burning black stains that lingered even after you stopped, but he never once hesitated.

if you asked him to jump, he’d ask how high. if you felt like holding him underwater, he’d cherish every bruise. to be kept as a toy was still to be kept.

[astorkes]

an unspoken promise...

[lyss-butterscotch]

SUPER LATE BUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY NEUVILLETTE!!! YOU'LL BE REUNITED WITH YOUR HUSBAND SOON I SWEAR

[koinotame]

if i was your husband

word count: 1.4K content warnings: unhealthy relationship dynamics, some nonsexual touching of dubious consent, otherwise just 1400 words of yandere-typical obsession

characters included: childe

a/n: this is a repost (heavily edited in some parts, lightly edited in others)! and a sequel to this. you can read this as a standalone modern au oneshot, but it'll probably make more sense with the context of the previous one. also on ao3! next part here

"you know," you say after a while of quiet between the two of you, staring vacantly at the tv playing some seasonal movie and leaning further into the couch. "my friends were saying you’d make a good husband."

out of the corner of your eye, you see him still.

"…really?"

something about the way he says it makes your stomach queasy.

you hum halfheartedly, still trying to pretend you’re more invested in the movie than the current conversation.

"what do you think, then?"

that gets you to turn to him. "huh?"

he’s looking directly at you, face propped up on his fist. the way his eyes, deep and all consuming, bore into yours makes you feel like you’re a sailor about to give in to the enthralling call of the ocean. "how do you think I’d do as your husband?"

"well…" you pause for a bit, eyes flicking back to the movie and staying there for a bit. he doesn’t move, staring directly at your face. your eyes inch to the opposite corner of the scren, a bit further away from him.

a few minutes pass by before you say anything again. "I mean, your cooking is great. and you like cleaning, and—" you start counting off other husbandly traits he has on your fingers. your hands are almost full by the time you’re done, which is also when you finally turn back to him. "so. yeah, I think you’d make for a good husband."

his stare is starting to get kind of unnerving.

you smile awkwardly, trying to ease the tense air. "…maybe that makes you more of a house husband, though?"

he doesn’t respond to your jest.

"you think so?"

instead, he sounds strikingly serious. he usually sounds light and lively, so his current inflection sounds eerie.

you don’t have time to think about it any more before he’s draping himself over you, his arms leaning onto the couch behind you and torso just barely not touching you. his eyes search your face for something, not missing the jolt at his sudden movement.

after an intense couple seconds of observing you, his face turns up into a wide, almost overexcited smile.

his head drops into the crook of your shoulder, arms wrapping themselves around your waist and pressing you even further into the couch. you hear him inhale loudly, then let out a content sigh as he presses his face further against you. he doesn’t mind the way you stiffen at the sudden sensation, or the way your arms remain rigidly at your sides.

"…what are you doing?"

"if I was your husband," he ignores your question, not moving. "I’d be the happiest man alive. no, forget that—I’d be the happiest person alive."

your mouth feels dry when he presses a light kiss against the exposed skin on your throat.

"I’d cook breakfast, lunch and dinner for you every day. I’d learn all your favourites and I’d pack you lunch every day." he takes another deep whiff. you’re sure you’re not imagining it this time. "I could pack you those cute themed lunch boxes, too. I’d get up early every morning to make sure I can finish everything in time."

his eyes open, his lashes brushing tenderly against your skin. "I’d wake you every day, and I’d hold you as we fall asleep every night. I’d take care of everything so you can always take it easy, and I’d make sure you’re always comfortable."

his breath is hot against your skin. "I’d make sure to tell you that I love you every day. the house would always be ready for your return, the sheets always fresh and your clothing always ironed."

he moves down, pressing his face against where your heart is. his ear lays flat against your chest. the look on his face is hard to describe, bordering on hypnotised. "I’d make sure you’re always happy. I’d take care of all the rent, and the utility bills, and food, and whatever else needs to be paid."

his eyes appear glazed over. "you could spend your days lounging around, doing nothing while I take care of you and pamper you. I could buy you whatever you want, whenever you want, for whatever reason you want. I’d do anything for you. nothing is off the table for you."

his grip tightens, pressing you further into him, as if he doesn’t want there to be an end to him and a beginning to you between the two of you.

"I’d make sure nobody could hurt you, of course. anyone who tries will sorely regret it." he says the words as if they come so naturally to him as his voice gets just a little bit more frantic. "I’ll take care of any and all of your problems. no matter what."

"if I couldn’t do that, I wouldn’t have the right to call myself your husband." he smiles up at you, tone suddenly cheerful. if it wasn’t for his previous words, his smile would seem innocently excited.

for all the months you’ve been living with ajax, you’ve never felt particularly threatened by him. he’s never made you think the rumours about him are true, never given you any reason to be scared or angry with him. he’s weird, and kind of pushy sometimes, and you’re never quite sure what he’s thinking of, but he’s never been scary.

you’re not sure you agree with that anymore.

with bated breath, you watch as he takes one of your stiff hands gently into his own and presses it against his cheek. it feels uncomfortably warm against your skin.

"I’d be the best husband you could have. you’d always be happy with me, I promise. I swear it on my life. I’ll never let you down."

his expression remains equally love-struck and intense no matter what he says, like he’s barely managing to contain his devotion, but there’s a hint of desperation behind them the more he goes on.

"if I was your husband…"

he pauses, dark pools of blue staring into your eyes intensely.

"your grace," he suddenly drops to his knees in front of you, keeping his hold on your hand but moving to hold it in front of him gingerly. "would you marry me?"

he doesn’t give you time to answer, instead pressing his face against your knee. his gaze doesn’t waver. "I know I’m getting ahead of myself, that I could never deserve you, that we’re still so young, but… now that I’ve had a taste of being around the real you, I’m not sure I could ever let that feeling go."

his eyelids close and he lays his head on your lap. "I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost your favour. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I drove you away."

the movie is still playing in the background. your fingers feel cold.

"but I can’t help myself." his eyes open again and stare at you again, deeper than any lake could ever be. "I love you."

he presses himself further against you, arms wrapping around your calves delicately.

"I love all of you. I love you when you’re happy and I love you when you’re sad. I love every single part of you." he starts rubbing his cheek against your legs. "whenever you come back home tired or downcast, I want to go out and destroy whatever is causing you grief. I’d overthrow the entire world for you if it’d please you."

the way he talks about you as if you’re some sort of divine being is makes your head spin.

"actually…" the flush on his cheeks accentuates, the warmth of his face tangible even against your clothed leg. "wouldn’t that be nice? you could be the divine ruler and I’d be your personal knight, the strongest and most loyal in the entire world…"

the tone in his voice is overeager, though his words remind you more of a fairy tale story disconnected from reality than like something he really means. "it wouldn’t even be hard, nobody here has visions and no matter what they say, anyone with one has an innate advantage over those who don’t. and should that fail, I’ll always have…" the rest is mumbled against your legs and unintelligible.

after a couple more seconds, he sighs, almost wistfully. "but this world has those pesky nuclear weapons instead, so I’ll settle for being your husband instead."

one of his hands reaches out and intertwines with yours again. he squeezes it tenderly.

"I love you."

his eyes bore into yours even as he presses a reverent kiss to the back of your hand.

"if you find me suitable…" the expression on his face can only be described as lovesick. "please marry me."

[vladiccrine]

POV: you almost drowned a nation and have nowhere to go so you go to your situationship

[ijulixnazxz]

Nose en que piensas tu, pero yo en ti.

[koisplosion]

★ Hydro Vision ★

A flag for the Hydro Vision element from Genshin Impact

Intended use for Hydro Vision holders, users of and others aligned with the element Hydro, followers of Furina the Hydro Archon and any and all reasons related to Hydro Visions.

Request status on the inbox

Please read the byf linked in fox's pinned post

[beardedhandstoadshark]

Paimon, whose friendship with the Traveller had been emphasized a LOT these past 2 regions, looking like a chibi parallel version to the unknown god, suddenly asking existential questions about what you’d do if your home stopped existing the next day, while being in the land of prophecies that is currently being screwed over by Celestia while we still have the mystery of that other time a technologically advanced nation got screwed over by Celestia.

Girl please stop accidentally foreshadowing the endboss fight against you

[truedove]

stress relief

word count - 1,581

content warning - smut (minors dni), f!reader insert, somnophilia, established relationship, oral (f recieving), unprotected piv, dubious consent, a smidge of plot

synopsis - after a long day at work, he comes home to find you fast asleep. honestly, how could he possibly resist?

a heavy sigh escapes his lips, tense shoulders slumping in stark relief. he tosses his keys into the ceramic dish by the door - a gift from you - and kicks off his shoes, wincing as they skid across the linoleum. it's pitch black, save for the faint glow of the nightlight you left on for him and the apartment is dead silent aside from the soft hum of the refrigerator, the gentle ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room.

the warm air carries with it the faint scent of something delicious smelling and his stomach rumbles in response, reminding him that he hasn't eaten since this morning. you must have cooked dinner, and he feels a horrible pang of guilt for making you eat alone.

work has been…difficult lately, and he's been neglecting his personal life as a result. neglecting you.

his mind has been awhirl with thoughts of deadlines and spreadsheets and meetings, and it's a great fucking relief to finally be home.

he really should just hop in the shower, wash off the day's grime and stress. but the desperate urge to see you, the need to feel your touch and warmth, is too great.

silently, he pads across the hardwood floor, anticipation building with every step. you're most likely asleep - it's well past midnight, after all - but even just a glimpse of your pretty face would be enough to make him feel better, to wash away the impression of irksome employees and cold, pitiless bureaucracy.

he reaches the bedroom, the familiar scents of fabric softener and your body wash overwhelming his senses in a way he revels in. moonlight spills through the gauzy curtains, casting a pale glow across the bed, illuminating the tousled covers and pillows. a familiar shaped lump is visible beneath the duvet and he carefully makes his way over, kneeling beside the bed.

tentatively, he brushes aside a strand of hair from your cheek, feeling the softness of your skin beneath his coarse fingertips. your features are relaxed in sleep, your lips slightly parted and your breathing steady and deep. the moonlight plays across your face, casting shadows that dance across your cheeks and nose, emphasizing the delicate curve of your jawline and the arch of your brow.

drool has gathered at the corner of your mouth and he feels choked with fondness. he thumbs it away gently, marveling at the way your lips part just a fraction more at the touch.

leaning in, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, then another to your closed eyelid. you stir, but don't wake. another kiss, this one at the corner of your mouth, and you sigh softly, brows wrinkling in confusion. each kiss he presses against your skin is an apology, a promise, a plea for forgiveness. god knows how you put up with his constant late hours, but you always do; with a smile on your lovely face.

he trails his kisses down your jaw, pausing to suckle at the delicate skin below your ear. you sigh, mumbling something incoherent before you nestle closer, your body pressing against his kneeled form, subconsciously seeking his presence and warmth. he smiles against your skin and continues his slow journey, pausing to plant a series of tender kisses over the swell of your breasts.

you're so pretty like this, he thinks, trailing his fingers over your ribcage, feeling the warmth of your skin through the thin fabric of your - his - shirt. he's hard, so hard it's starting to ache, and he feels a surge of guilt, like some unwanted intruder has barged in on a private moment. he should stop, should leave you to your rest, hop in the shower and try to cool down.

but you're so sweet though, pliant and trusting beneath his touch, that he can't bring himself to pull away.

he nuzzles his face into the valley between your breasts, breathing in the sweet, familiar scent of your skin. his hands wander lower and slip beneath the fabric of your shirt, tracing the curve of your hipbone and the soft skin of your belly. he makes his way lower still, joining you on the bed and positioning himself between your legs.

as he parts your thighs, his mouth waters as he takes in the single scrap of fabric separating him from your cunt. the heat radiating from between your legs is almost overwhelming, and he groans lowly. he mouths at the damp fabric, tasting the sweetness that is you, and then he's pulling it down, baring you to him and the cool air of the bedroom.

not one to waste time; he presses his mouth against you, feeling the velvety softness of your cunt against his tongue. he'll never get over how good you taste.

he starts by licking, long, slow strokes that dip into your folds, lapping at your clit and sucking gently on the sensitive bundle of nerves. you whimper, still blissfully unaware, and he presses closer, hands cupping your hips to hold you steady as he works his tongue in deep, feeling you quiver and shudder beneath his touch. your thigh tremble, your hips arch, and he feels the slick heat of your desire coat his mouth.

he presses a finger inside, slowly at first, feeling the tightness of your entrance as he pushes deeper, curling his finger against the sensitive wall of your cunt. you whine, your hips arching of their own accord as you writhe beneath him, seeking more. he adds another finger, stretching you out and fucking you with his hand as he continues to lick and suck at your clit.

he can feel the way your body starts to tense, the way your muscles clench around his fingers and he grins.

you flood his mouth, your warmth and taste filling him up as you finally give in to the pleasure he gives you. your previously soft noises pitch higher before you cry out and your body draws tight. he helps you through it, feeling your pulsing cunt milking his fingers, sucking at your clit until you've finally gone limp.

this is where he should stop, where he should pull back and give you the space you need, but he's greedy, selfish. he can't bring himself to let you go just yet. so he pulls his fingers free from your slick heat - sucking the digits into his mouth just to taste more of you - and he kisses his way up your body, positioning himself between your plush thighs.

he unbuckles his work pants and pushes them down, freeing his aching cock. he doesn't put it in just yet, instead using it to tease and torment you as he kisses along your jaw, your neck, the slope of your shoulder. you arch into his touch, whimpering softly, and he knows you want it, want him inside you. fuck, you were just the sweetest thing, weren't you? all soft and warm and wet. just for him.

he pulls back, just enough to look down at your serene face, watch your closed lids flutter as he pushes his cock against your entrance. relaxed with sleep as you are, it barely takes any prodding before he feels you opening for him and he groans, thrusting forward slowly, feeling himself sink into the warmth of your body. you moan softly, stirring beneath him and he presses deeper, feeling you stretch to accommodate him. you're so perfect and he wants to bury himself in you, fuse your body to his until he can't tell where he ends and you begin.

tangling his fingers in your hair, he pulls gently as he fucks you in earnest, though he makes sure to not jostle you too much. you deserve your beauty sleep, after all.

"fuck, fuck." he groans when he feels you tighten around him as you come once again, this time with him buried deep inside. he can feel the walls of your cunt sucking at his cock as you ride out the wave of pleasure. your face scrunches and your hands feebly grasp at his forearms, consciousness beginning to seep back into you as you come down from your high. nuzzling his face into your neck, he feels himself start to lose control, the tightness of your cunt and the softness of your skin driving him wild. he begins to move faster, thrusting deeper, his hips slamming into yours in rhythm with the wild beat of his heart.

stars dance behind his eyes as he begins to come and he swears he blacks out for a second, just a second, but it feels like forever before he can focus again. sound and sensations come back to him in a rush. your breath is ragged against his neck and when he peaks over at you, your eyes are half-open, your lips parted, your gaze unfocused. shit, he really didn't want to wake you.

switching your positions, he now lays flat on his back with you splayed on his chest, your legs straddling his hips and his cock still firmly lodged inside you. he barely even remembers his shitty day now, doesn't even have the brain power to think about it. all he can focus on is you.

"go back to sleep." he murmurs against your temple when you stir, pressing a kiss to the tender skin. "i've got you."

you sigh, relaxing against him, and he smiles. what a dreamy, contented sound that is.

[tynoahs]

pov: ur gay

[xfpno]

They have been on my mind