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(Mod Toto) Today is Lon’qu’s birthday, so I made this for everyone to celebrate!
…Except me, because he keeps threatening me to go to sleep-
Oh well, everyone say happy birthday! And go to sleep early or else-
🐟🦄🌁
Tried to go for a Last Unicorn but Aquatic energy... This design can be bought by dming me or on my Toyhouse.
Suitcase and MePhone 4 sit by a tree and some reunions happen.
BLITHE SPIRIT POSTER DESIGNS!!!!
(Click for better quality)
Let’s not pretend doms don’t need after care too.
Ask them if they are satisfied, whether they came or not. Do they want to cum?
If they need anything to drink.
Perhaps they might be cramping from putting a lot of effort.
Tell them they did well and which parts you enjoyed the most.
Compliment them for their work.
Cuddle up to them.
Offer help for the clean up afterwards.
Order food together.
Sex can be something casual, but might be intense too. Either physical or mentally. Take care of each other and regularly communicate with each other. No question should be taboo. It’s better to be safe than sorry.
running away from fate
kiss because its the end of the world for the fic prompts?
oooh yay i was hoping i would get this one !! thank you anon. also you didn't specify which ship, so I'm going with andreil :]
~
When the sky turned a bloody red and the stars began to plummet from the heavens, Andrew turned to where he sat beside Neil on the rooftop and said, when you wanted to watch the stars shoot through the sky, I don't think this is what you meant.
Neil didn't respond. He turned a slow look on Andrew, mouth slightly parted and skin bathed in crimson from the inferno above them, and said nothing.
Andrew should have guessed this was the only way to render Neil Josten speechless.
In a lot of ways, the apocalypse wasn't what Andrew had expected. It seemed like eons ago when he and Renee discussed world wars and water shortages wreaking havoc on civilization, but in all their contingency plans and talk of zombies and nuclear winters, neither of them had guessed it would be anything other than humankind's own dong that would do them in.
Weeks ago, when the weatherman came on the television and wept, Andrew hadn't yet realized that the world was really ending. It wasn't until Aaron showed up unannounced on his doorstep with a bag on his shoulder and his family in tow, that he realized that this was it. Only calamity could make his brother visit him unprompted.
Andrew spent a lot of time with his family during those last days, more than what he would have expected. Nicky and his husband managed to get a flight to South Carolina before they shut the airports down and closed borders, and he stayed in Andrew's guest bedroom while Aaron and his wife and daughters took Neil's old room.
Neil moved into Andrew's room, but neither of them talked about it.
Despite the universe shaking itself apart around them, life carried on. People went to work at their boring office jobs and then drank themselves silly afterwards, tuning into to the news station rather than the sports channels. Wars were fought and love was made. Andrew's feelings for Neil continued to turn like a wheel in his chest.
What else was there to do, except wait for the end?
It was on the roof with Neil and a bottle of whiskey between them when Andrew wondered if maybe he should come clean. He'd just about let the words tumble out of his mouth when Neil pointed to an asteroid streaking across the rust-stained sky, the first of many to come. Do you think this is how the dinosaurs felt? he had said.
Andrew's chest tightened as he gazed at the side of Neil's face, illuminated by the blood-red sun in the sky. No, he said. I don't think this is what they felt at all.
Nicky made them breakfast the next morning. He wore a pink chef's apron and cracked eggs in a sizzling pan. Eggs and toast, that's what they were having. That's all that was left. Andrew's family gathered around his tiny kitchen table and ate this last sacrament together. Nicky told jokes that surprisingly didn't fall flat, and Neil pushed his knee up against Andrew's under the table. He said nothing, but he caught Andrew's eye and smiled.
Andrew wondered if he should feel this happy when he and everyone he had ever loved would be dead in just a few hours.
After breakfast, Andrew and Neil climbed onto their roof to watch the lightshow. Fuck it, Andrew thought. He and everyone he loved would be dead in just a few hours. So he took Neil's hand and said, I love you.
Neil didn't let go of his hand, and when he pulled him closer, Neil was the first to lean in and press his lips against Andrew's.
Andrew's lungs burned, but he didn't think it was the smoke-filled air that was choking him, or the burning ozone and brimstone stinging his nose. The world was a dull roar around them, but all of Andrew's senses were overloaded with Neil. He combed his fingers through Neil's hair, soft and ablaze in the dying light, and leaned back. Neil's eyes were the only bit of blue in the entire world, and Andrew was content to die with this being the last thing he saw.
He didn't say that he wished he had more time, and he didn't say he regretted not telling Neil sooner. Wishes and regrets didn't matter anymore. All the mattered was that the sky above them was streaked with fire and blood and the sun reminded Andrew more of the middle of a ripe peach than death itself, and that Neil's hand was folded in Andrew's own.
Neil turned his face to the heavens, chin titled up as it crumpled around them. The sky was awash in red and orange and black as the stars burnt the atmosphere and cascaded around them. In his last moments, Andrew would have thought they looked like falling angels, though he never had believed in such things. The end of the world shouldn't be so beautiful, and yet.
Andrew leaned into Neil, pushing his shoulder against his, and watched the lights blink out one by one.
Oh, good lord. She's speaking to him.
Static crackles in his mind and in the silent night air, and Maxwell looks at her, stricken.
...no, not speaking. And not to him. The spirit is just... coming into existence, that's all.
That's all.
"Thank you," he mumbles, something he's only ever said sarcastically to his typical puppets, but which is entirely genuine when spoken to her. He shivers under the pale blue of the lantern. He should be dead right now. Like her...
IT LOOKS AT HIM.
"Stop that!" Maxwell snarls, eyes wide and terrified. He takes a step back, freezing when he nears the edge of the ring of light.
What is he thinking? Of course she isn't looking at him. He's just lost what was left of his sanity summoning her, that's all.
That's. All.
"We're going home. I-- I'm going home. Come. And don't you dare drop that light."
With spectral candlelight, the spirit materialises.
It has no will. She. SHE. SHE. SHE. SHE. SHE WAS-
The absence of anger, of feeling is noted as its feeble attempt dissolves into radio static, lost and numb. It moves, conjured with its lantern to illuminate the surrounds. It knows it does this, even if it does not see. Vague stimuli to give it a perception, of course, but only what is necessary. The darkness. Objects. It notes its summoner, moving before and beside him, crowning him with protective light.
It feels again. So, it tries to speak, ultimately useless when it has no mouth. However this time, perhaps from something it can percieve stirring in its core, it does face him. Looking. That's all. It wishes it could cry, only for a moment. It can't wish. It is bound to the summoner, but in this moment it has managed more than it had in its past. It seems, even if fleeting, aware.
something they don’t tell you about being autistic is that every character you write WILL end up autistic/autistic-coded whether you like it or not
these are my thotz as someone who has been directly exposed to 2022 and 1966 batman within less than a month: there's a sweet spot between silly/gloomy ways to write bruce wayne, there's unpleasant extremes, and then there's the real extremes that are such weird little freaks that they make perfect sense
enjoying a character is so embarassing like ugh yes i do want to buy this thing that has him on it. just because it has him on it. what next. a fucking shrine? get real.
It’s inconceivable how many instances there are of Captain Marvel’s kiddish tendencies being used in conjunction with blind obedience towards authority or in making rash split-second decisions when in reality there should be way more moments of him being a rightfully stupid preteen. Billy should get to stop and play with a dog while a villain recites a melodramatic speech in the background and he needs to laugh so hard that he cries over fart jokes. Bringing balance to his mythos by making him fry open watermelons with his thunderbolts.
Favourite ship dynamic: no one truly knows what exactly is going on between the two characters, including the characters themselves. But whatever it is, it's written in the fabric of the universe.
Can I also ask for Primo and „whispering in-between kisses“? You know what types of kisses 👀
I know the exact kind of kisses you want. It's time to worship that old man.
~ Primo needs you to tell him what you see when you look at him ~
(1800 words, fluff, angst, body worship, some spice, nsfw, 18+ only, not beta read)
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“Amore, what do you see when you look at me?”
You set your brush down onto your vanity and turned sideways in the chair to look at Primo.
“I see someone that was supposed to be dressed ten minutes ago.”
Usually Primo enjoyed your teasing and he often teased you back. It was an easy banter between two people that had known each other for many years. Looking at Primo right now though it was clear he was not in a teasing mood. He sat down heavily on the side of your bed, a long sigh exhaling out of him.
“That is not what I mean.” There was a tone to his voice you didn’t normally hear and it made you get up to head his way. You held your bathrobe together and quietly padded over to stand before him. Primo was staring down at his hands in his lap, wringing them together nervously, so you dropped to your knees and slipped your hands into his to stop the movement. “Tell me the truth.”
You pulled his hands towards you and placed kisses into each of his palms before looking up at him. He met your gaze now, his eyes searching yours for an answer.
“I see the man I’ve admired for many years and loved for many more.” Primo snorted and pulled his hands away with enough force you fell back on your butt. “Hey, what’s going on with you?”
“That is not what I asked.” He stood up and then reached down to you, gently grasping your elbows and pulling you to your feet. You let out another ‘hey’ when he tugged you over to the windows that overlooked his garden. Primo squeezed your hands and then let go of one to grasp your chin. “Now, look at me and tell me what you see.”
You pulled away from his hands and then placed yours on his shoulders. With a firm shove you got him to fall into the chair behind him and climbed after him. You straddled him, your knees on either side of his legs. He wouldn’t meet your eyes so you used his own move on him and took a hold of his chin.
“I see someone that is tired from all of his years of working hard for this church.” His mismatched gaze met yours then and your heart clenched at the look in his eyes. You leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on his forehead before moving down to kiss the soft, puffy skin under each eye. “You never get enough sleep because you’re up too late worrying about your brothers.”
The only answer you got was a soft nod and you smiled at him before kissing the tip of his nose. Your lips trailed from there to where the skin next to his mouth where he had wrinkles from smiling and then further down to where it had begun to sag.
“My Papa is getting older and his face shows it. His body shows it.” You kissed along his chin and then made your way down his neck, whispering into the wrinkled skin there when you stopped again. “Can I keep going, Papa? Can I show you what else I see?”
You felt him nod above you so you slipped your hands into his robe and pushed it off his shoulders. He was bare underneath and you took a moment to admire the body you had been intimately familiar with for many years now. When you started kissing him again you made your way from his neck across to his shoulder.
“Your skin has seen too much sun, Papa. Look at all these freckles.” To illustrate the amount he had you made sure to kiss each one you saw. You made a mental note to be more forceful with sunscreen next time he went out in his garden. Down his arm you went, finally holding his hand up between you so you could both look at the rough skin on the back. A few of his knuckles were misshapen, arthritis having begun to set into his joints many years ago. “I can tell that these hands have done so much.”
“Like what?”
Primo’s voice was quiet and shaking slightly. You were afraid to look into his eyes because if you saw tears there you would end up crying too. He needed you to be strong right now and you refused to let him down.
“Your hands have held onto so many others here, guiding them onto their path within the church…leading them in prayer…pulling them from the lake during their unholy baptism.” A thought crossed your mind and you couldn’t help but laugh a little. “I’ve seen this hand slap Secondo on the back of the head when he misbehaved as a child.”
“Or as a grown man.”
It was good to hear Primo laugh and you chanced a look at his face. His eyes shone with unshed tears and he sniffed when he saw the same in your eyes. He brought his free hand over and caught one when it started to trail down your cheek.
“I remember you holding Terzo’s hand when his mother passed away, how you carried him around the garden so he could pick flowers to take to her grave each week.” You grabbed his other hand when he tried to wipe your tears away again. “And I remember when you stormed up to Nihil and took Copia from his arms.”
“That old fool wasn’t cut out to be a father.”
“No he wasn’t, but you were.” You placed his hands on the arms of his chair and leaned forward to place a kiss on his chest over his heart. His chest hair was more white than blonde now, much like the hair on his head before he had begun to shave it, but it was still soft to the touch. For a moment you rested your ear against him, listening to his strong heartbeat. “You’ve been there for all of your brothers and helped them to become the men they are today.”
He took a deep breath under your ear and you could tell he was trying very hard to control his emotions. You weren’t done though, because deep down you knew what his biggest worry was when he started this conversation. Very slowly you turned your head so that your lips were against his skin and you kissed a trail to his nipple. You flicked your tongue against it before pulling it between your lips and nipping at it softly with your teeth.
“Amore…”
“Hush Papa, I’m not done.” You moved to his other nipple and gave it the same amount of attention before going lower to where his skin had started to pull down with age. The wrinkles here were larger, the skin soft and warm against your lips. Primo jumped when your tongue left a wet trail across his chest. “When I look at you Primo, when I touch you, I see a man that has aged beautifully.”
Your mouth moved to the center of his chest and you slid off his lap to rest on your knees before him. The robe was easy to pull off his lap and now he was completely bare before you. His cock was still soft, but that didn’t surprise you. It didn’t bother you either. You placed your hands on his knees and then slid them up his thighs, resting where they met his waist. Primo abruptly dropped his hands to cover yours and gave them a squeeze.
“Not tonight, I don’t think, amore. Too much going on in this old head.”
You smiled and moved closer to him, shouldering his legs further apart.
“It doesn’t make a difference to me either way. Do you know why?” Primo shook his head, his mouth falling open in a silent gasp as you leaned forward and started to mouth along his soft cock. “Because I still see the man I love no matter what is happening here.”
Even soft his cock was long and you took it as deep as you could, the tip reaching well into your mouth. You tongued the underside, pulling back so you could press it against his slit. His thighs had begun to shake under your hands and you heard him groan above you. As you bobbed up and down a few times you let out a little moan when you felt him finally twitch in your mouth. With a smile you pulled off, a string of saliva lingering from your lips to the tip as you moved away. Primo pulled a hand out from under yours and rubbed his thumb against your bottom lip, smearing your saliva around.
“Shall I keep going Papa?” He gave you a quick nod, taking a deep breath as you mouthed along the side of his cock. It twitched again, slowly filling out as you gave it attention. You licked the drop of precum that started to leak at the tip and then looked up to see him watching you. “Will you tell me now? Will you tell me what you see when you look at me?”
He brought his hands up to cup your face, smiling softly as he pulled you close enough to slip his cock into your mouth once more.
“I see someone that is more beautiful than any flower in my garden.” Primo grunted as he began to thrust in and out of your mouth, his cock nearly fully hard. “Someone that has never left my side, that ah! Cazzo. Someone that…someone that I love more than anything.”
His moans started to mix with your whimpers as he moved faster, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat with every thrust now. There was so much more you wanted to say. So much more that he needed to hear but you didn’t want to stop him. You wanted him to fill your mouth with his cum, you wanted to swallow everything he gave you.
Primo’s fingers began to dig harder in your hair as his cock started to kick in your mouth. It wasn’t long before he nearly doubled-over as he came. Your mouth filled with his release and you did your best to swallow it all, lapping at his cock to clean off what you could. When he pulled out you kept your lips wrapped around him until you pulled off with a soft pop. He was looking at you like you were the only other person in his world and you found your eyes filling with tears again when he spoke softly to you.
“In you, amore, I see someone that I will worship until my final days. If you’ll let me.”
“Forever, Papa.”
He chuckled, wiping the mixture of saliva and his release off your chin before leaning in to press his forehead against yours.
“Forever.”
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