mostly a mystic messenger blog, but thereās some multifandom posting here and there as well as lots of personal posts (photos, text posts, etc). iām here to indulge in my love for saeran choi with the masses and overshare with the world, enjoy your stay.
not spoiler free -- i usually try to tag spoilers for the after ending and webcomic as these are new properties, but please take note before you follow
nsfw is rare but may appear occasionally -- minors please take note. iāll be tagging any nsfw posts accordingly below. common triggers are also tagged underĀ ā_____ twā format, please let me know if youād like something added.
main topics of interest;
mystic messenger
9 hours 9 persons 9 doors/zero escape
j-pop idols (CY8ER, keyakizaka46, luce twinkle wink, etc.)
mechanical keyboards
idk life. iām in love with life so i talk about it a lot. sorry
regularly used tags;
(this will be updated/cleaned up over time, i have to organise my life before i organise my tags so thereās not a lot here for now)
#lolly and the brainworms -- for posts relating to any consumption of mystic messenger content (playthroughs of the game, reading the webcomic, etc).
#lolly goes takataka -- writing from 2021 onwards. mostly going to be mystic messenger
#lolly cant write -- ARCHIVED WRITING from ~2013. please note i was 14 in 2013 so i canāt guarantee the quality of my writing. mostly blazblue/999/hatoful kareshi
#own art -- art from 2021 onwards
#nsfw text -- for jokes that may be nsfw in nature
the nonary games au -- 999/hunger games au blog in collaboration with two other writers that ceased in 2012. lots of content for your reading pleasure though if thatās your jam!
purplefridge callout post + associated evidence -- kept up for archival purposes as i have been continually informed over the years that this behaviour has been repeated + this is an important reference. pedophilia, sexual harrassment tw
ghostyon callout post -- kept up for archival purposes. incest, rape, abuse, sexual harrassment tw (and suicide tw in the notes/additional evidence, so please take care)
GE Saeran x f!MC
Ironically, this fic is, indeed, not safe for work.
Word Count: 3144
Tags/Warnings: Vaginal sex, oral sex, pining- OH, the pining. Saeran called to me, and I answered.
The cabin is cold and quietā too quiet for her liking, and she tries her best to hide her shivering so he doesnāt worry. Saeran notices, of course; he notices everything. He goes to her and wants more than anything to put his arms around her, but he hesitates. Thereās something in her eyes that looks a lot like fear, and heās suddenly frozen. How does he comfort someone when he has no idea how to even calm himself? He loves herā endlessly, completely, unconditionallyā and she feels the same about him, though she knows how foolish and reckless it is. To Saeran, thereās nothing worse than staring at the person he loves and feeling completely useless with regard to helping her.
āSaeranā¦ā she whispers. Alarmed when her teeth start to chatter, he flinches and runs to the bedroom, mumbling something about blankets and closing the window. She watches him go, arms wound around herself, wondering if itās not just the cold thatās making her shiver but the fear of whatās going to happen to them from here. Theyāre supposedly in a safe place, a hideout, off the grid...but nothing about the last few days have been ordinary and she doesnāt want to let her guard down quite yet.
He comes back with an old, knitted blanket that smells a little musty and feels scratchy against her skin when he gingerly drapes it around her shoulders. She pulls it in around her and offers him a thin smile anyway. "Thank you."
"I'm sorry you're cold," he says. "I, um. I can start a fire? In the fireplace? If you want."
"Sure, that would be nice," she replies, looking around the room. The floor feels rough beneath her feet as she shuffles toward the couch to sit down. She tucks her legs beneath her and burrows into the blanket so that she's covered completely except her face; not just for warmth, but because it makes her feel safe somehow.
"I'm sorryā"
"Stop," she says. A little too sharp, a little too loud. Saeran flinches, and the match he holds to the kindling goes out. "Saeran." Softer this time. "Don'tā you don't have to apologize. For anything. I wish you'd see that."
He lowers his head and strikes another match. They're silent for a few minutes until the fire begins to grow, then he sits next to her, hands on his knees, back rounded. He's exhausted, she thinks, watching him out of the corner of her eye. He hasn't had a good night's sleep in years. "You should try and get some rest," she says, as gently as she can, trying hard not to sound condescending or bossy. The fire begins to warm the room, and she shifts within her blanket, scooting a little closer to him as if to share the warmth she feels with him somehow.
"I'm okay," he lies. The bags under his eyes could occupy their own postal code, and his complexion is pallid, though she sees the pink that rises to the tips of his ears when he knows she's caught him not being honest. He can't hide from her, despite his best efforts.
She heaves a sigh. "You're not okay. When's the last time you slept?"
It takes him too long to answer; she wiggles her fingertips through the holes in her blanket to distract herself. Sheās trying to give him time, to be patient with him, but sheās tired too. They had been on the run for most of the day, and when they found the cabin, she had wanted to collapse on the porch and close her eyes she was so exhausted. He had taken her hand thenā tentative, gentle, questioningā and led her inside while explaining that they were safe now, at least for tonight.
āTwo nights ago. Iā uhā I slept for maybe a couple of hours. Not long.ā
āThatās it.ā She stands in front of him and extends a hand. āBed. Now.ā She surprises herself with how suddenly bold she acts but refuses to take no for an answer at this point. He tries to argue, but she won't let him get a word in edgewise; so he takes her hand and lets her lead him to the small bedroom at the back of the cabin. The blanket she still wears over her shoulders trails the floor behind her like a long cloak, and he smiles at how cute she looks as he follows obediently.
She turns down the bed and fluffs the pillow, then turns to him where he stands in the doorway. āAll yours!ā she says brightly. The room is dark, save for a little slice of moonlight that cuts in from the small, singular window.
Of course, the question that hangs in the air between them is one that Saeran eventually gives a voice to. āWhat about you? Where will you sleep?ā
āOh, the couch is fine,ā she chirps.
The sadness in his eyes makes her heart squeeze. He doesnāt want to be by himself. And...sure, theyād shared kisses, but sleeping in the same bed felt...forbidden somehow. Like they weren't already stupidly in love and hadn't thought about each other in that way. But, had he? She worries. She wonders. She'd never considered that maybe he'd never had experiences with intimacy before, at least not the kind she was thinking about now. Maybe she shouldnāt think about them. Why was she thinking about it, when their lives hung in the balance?
Maybe thatās whyā¦
āI donāt want to be alone,ā he says firmly. Itās the most sure sheās ever heard him speak, and her eyes go wide at his resolve. He squeezes her hand and pulls her close so that his breath tickles her cheek when he speaks again. āI...Iād like you to stay here with me.ā
She nods swift and swallows hard. Heās staring at her so intently that she begins to feel self conscious, but his eyes are searching her face for an answer, and she knows sheās already taken too long to give him one. āOkay.ā She nearly chokes on the words. Her throat is dry, her heart his pounding. Saeran takes a deep breath and exhales through his nose; it tickles her cheek and she laughs out loud, touching her fingertips to the skin there that feels like it might be on fire. Is she on fire?
Heās first to sit down. The bed barely bows under his weight; thereās nothing to him, and she suddenly feels inexplicably large in this tiny room with a tiny bed and an even smaller companion. Heās so fraile, so fragile. Maybe itās the shadows that slant across his face. Maybe itās her own insecurity screaming at her, but she hesitates again before she sits down beside him. He takes her hand in his immediately and lays back so that she has no choice but to follow him. Theyāre side by side now, both of them staring up at the ceiling in silence. Thereās barely any room to move around, but she shifts to her side anyway, pulling the blankets up over them.
Itās so warm. So warm. And sheās suddenly overcome with the desire to kiss him.
āSaeran,ā she says. He turns to look at her and she nearly cries at how innocent he looks. How small and unassuming and trusting he looks back at her. He cups her cheek and smiles. āCan...can I kiss you?ā
āOh! Of course,ā he says, as if he hadnāt been wanting to ask her the very same thing since they first entered the cabin. So she bends to him, and their lips meet. Heās so careful with her, so attuned to each time she shifts, or when she increases the pressure, or when she flutters her long eyelashes against his cheek. He kisses her with his eyes open because he wants to see these reactions, to commit them to memory so he can do two things: one, to be sure he absolutely pleases her each time; and two, to feel that little jolt of dopamine when heās done something right.
When she whimpers into his mouth, he canāt help but giggle. Itās a nervous thing, but she finds it endearing. His hands have drifted from her shoulders down to her waist, and heās only trembling a little now. What had been warm just a few moments ago has turned into a heatwave, and she finds the blankets oppressive and cumbersome; she kicks them down to the foot of the bed and shifts closer to him. Heās turned to his side now, too, and theyāre kissing. Endlessly. Itās delicate and nuanced and perfect, she thinks. She could kiss him forever, and fall asleep happily in his arms every night for the rest of her life.
They break for air and press their foreheads together, smiling, giddy, so much in love itās almost criminal. Heās got his fingers wound around a lock of her hair, and sheās stroking his cheek, fingertips grazing the cusp of his ear. After a few seconds of rest he kisses her again; deeper this time, as if heās grown more confident in their gentle exploits. He pushes himself against her, and sheās aware now that heās thinking about more than just kissingā at least, his body is doing the thinking for him, anyway.
She wants to slip a hand between them, but before she can think to do so, heās already got the same idea. He can feel the warmth between her thighs before his fingers even find it, and sheās even hotter now; her head feels fuzzy and her breath comes faster now, and she wonders if he can feel her heart beating through the thin fabric of her t-shirt.
āIs this okay?ā he asks, fingers pressing into the softness of her thigh, just outside of where sheās beginning to throb in time with her pulse. She bites down on her bottom lip and nods while opening her legs a little. Thereās a breathy exhale when he fathoms the heat there and sheās pulling at the collar of his shirt now, whispering yes. Right there. Over her pants, he presses a couple of tentative fingers and she gasps.
Heās sure to ask her before he removes each article of clothing. He wants to see her. To touch her. To know that her skin feels much like the silk heās imagined in his daydreams. The softness that he finds when she is bare before himā and he before herā is beyond his wildest imagination. Angel, he thinks. Sheās my angel, and Iām not worthy of her.
Hair fanned out across the pillow, she gives him that smile again and he wants to dissolve into her. Heās trembling, and thinks that he might just combust right then and there, but when she curls her warm hand around the place he needs her most, he thinks heās just died and gone to heaven. Has he touched himself before? Sure, in dark corners of his room, in the shower. Away from eyes that would judge and mock him. He thought of her many times at Magenta and always felt ashamed when heād stroke himself to the image of her heād concocted in his head, but here with her now, he felt brave. It felt good and right (perhaps almost too good, for he feared that he wouldnāt be able to contain his pleasure long enough for her to find hers).
āSaeran,ā she says. āYou can touch me again. Down there.ā She takes hold of his wristā an invitation, a desireā and guides him to where she can feel the wetness pooling out of her.
A nod. A flash of his green eyes, and he swipes a finger up along her slit.
Her resulting cry is the most beautiful sound heās ever heard.
He wants her to do it again.
A little harder this time, and heās enthralled with the moisture he gathers there and the sound it makes when her skin gives way. He pushes, slides, watches as his finger disappears inside her; then heās looking back at her face for a reaction. For a sign that heās doing something right. Her dilated pupils and the way her chest has begun to rise and fall tell him heās on the right track. So he pushes in a little deeper while shifting himself a little further down the bed. Itās awkward, and he miscalculates just how much room he actually has; he stubs his toe against the wooden footboard and it gives him a jolt. He looks back up to her and they share a giggle before he shifts a little more carefully. She lets her knees fall open and traces patterns on her belly while she watches him.
He wonders what she tastes like.
And so he bows his head to kiss along her inner thighs. His hairā though coarse from the bleaching treatments and malnutritionā tickles; he grips the back of her knees and kisses his way up to her core. āIāve never, Iā ā he stammers, and she thinks heās the most precious thing in the whole wide world.
āYou donāt have to,ā she says, though everything in her is screaming for him to please, please kiss me there. Please use your tongue. Please let me feel it. I need it. I need you.
āBut I want to,ā he argues, and he cocks his head to the side like a puppy, she thinks. Heās pouting. Who is she to deny him of what he wants?
She exhales a shaky laugh as if her lungs might turn inside out and pushes her fingers through his hair. āThen by all meansā¦ā
When the tip of his tongue meets her slick arousal, sheās flung into orbit. There are stars, there are lights, but theyāre rushing by her so fast she canāt think straight, she canāt focus. When she pulls his hair he looks up at her and his eyes are absolutely sparkling; he licks again just the way he did before because he obviously did something she liked and he wants to see her react again. He wants to fly with her, too, and he willā if he can see her face, feel the way her muscles twitch and flex beneath him.
Soon, heās laughing, though not because he finds her lack of decorum funny; no, because he finds her fascinating, beautiful, captivating, bewitching even. All his life, heās been wrong. Heās been told that heās no good at anything, no matter how hard heās worked. And now, with the flick of his tongue and the grip of his fingers, heās eliciting responses from her that are nothing but favorable, indeed.
He doesnāt realize it at first, but when she comes, heās rocking his hips too, rutting into the bed for some kind of friction, for a little bit of relief because as much as sheās enjoying her climax, heās enjoying seeing it even more. Ankles linked across his shoulders, she doesnāt mean to necessarily, but she pulls him even closer against her so that heās nearly smothered between her legs; does he mind? Not one bit.
He keeps up his work long after sheās come down and it tickles now; she twitches and laughs and pushes on the top of his head, whispering pleas for him to stop, that itās too much. He lifts his head and swipes the back of his hand across his lips. āSorry.ā
Thereās a sort of growl that leaves her throatā a warble, a laugh, a guttural sound. āYouā¦ā she starts. āYou have nothing to be sorry for.ā She grips his shoulders and guides him upward so that sheās able to kiss him full on the mouth, and she reaches between them to take hold of him.
āDo you wanna know what it feels like when youāre inside me?ā Bold, even for her. She surprises herself with the words, but she chalks it up to residual ecstasy. Still flying high from his efforts, sheās feeling a little otherworldly.
āYeah.ā
It takes them a moment, but she shows him. Gently, patiently. She opens herself to him and takes hold, guiding him inside.
He forgets to breathe. She reminds him.
Theyāre nose to nose; he canāt take his eyes off her face, and once heās completely inside he feels paralyzed. If he moves, he knows itās going to all be over. But if he doesnāt move...oh, if he doesnāt move, heās going to explode. Her back arches, and he bucks against her. Itās jerky and awkward and completely out of his control. When he starts to apologize, she shuts him up with a kiss.
The movement comes natural to him. He knows what to do, and though itās a little bit clumsy, a little bit erratic, he moves. The drag of his skin against hers is mind numbing, and when she lifts her legs to link them around the small of his back, heās certain that his heart has stopped. He feels the swell of her breast beneath his chest, the plush softness of her abdomen under his. They kiss and kiss and kiss until thereās no way to tell where one begins and the other ends, and she tastes the salt of his tears as he comes. It takes him no time at all, but she expected no less and no more. Except for one low groan into her shoulder, he doesnāt cry out, but the way he holds onto her makes her realize that heās afraid sheās going to disappear.
āIām not going anywhere,ā she coos against his ear, smoothing her hands down the length of his back; she feels each rib, each vertebra, then back again while he grows soft inside her and his breath returns to normal. āIām right here. Always.ā
āI know,ā he replies. āIām...more certain about you than Iāve ever been about...anything else in my life.ā
Itās the intimacy of his tone that brings her to tears. Theyāre warm and they swim in her eyes for a moment before spilling over for him to catch on his thumbs. He hasnāt meant to make her cry, and tells her so.
āI know you didnāt. Iāmā ā she begins to apologize, but stops herself. āIām in love with you.ā
Is that smugness she sees in his grin? Does he feel it? Has he already captured her around his little finger?
āI know.ā Heās so sure of himself. It feels foreign and strange and so very new...but so exciting that he canāt help but ride out the wave. Itās a small step on a long journey, but he knowsā and tells her while she cradles him close and kisses his browā that sheās proud of him. That she loves him, as reckless and irresponsible as it may be for both of them.
Reblogging things on here like im 15 and tenderly cutting pictures out of magazines and taping them to my bedroom walls alongside movie ticket stubs and notes passed in class and photos and paint sample cards from lowe's
nonary games was on special on steam so i decidedĀ āāhey i havenāt played the pc port of my favourite piece of fictional work ever so i should do thatāā and iāve spent the past 2 days playing nonstop to get safe ending and now i am BUZZING again I LOVE THIS GAME SO MUCH
Im quite sad thereās no skin tone option besides pale ass white. Also I thought the housemaid outfit was appropriate, considering Iāve cleaned homes and have nannied.
Thank you @shittylongcatposts this tag gam is gorgeous!!
I will tag @gureishi @truth-be-told-im-lying @pamakali @first-class-yandere @amysteriousmessenger @geniously-hacked-bebop @mammonprotectionsquad @strawberrysae @kurashikis only if you guys wanna do it ā„ļøā„ļø
