Luna

「 Luna | she/they | 22 」 ┈ "everything is temporary" ┈

[lunarmochi]

welcome to my little blog

here you’ll find some some amateur writing, vent posts, various shitposts, occasional 18+ content, etc

enjoy your time here :)

m.list

rules

ko-fi

carrd

strawpage

[larkspurhoney]

What are you and your fave doing at this very moment 🎤 🐇

[scribeherself]

Sundays are the universe's way of reminding us that it is okay to be still. it’s a day made of soft fabrics, slow melodies, and the gentle art of doing absolutely nothing with a deeply romantic heart.

[hawnks]

The first time you have sex with Caleb you're handling things based on your previous experience. You've always been the considerate one, the one who makes sure the position is good, that no one gets a cramp, that your partner gets off.

But by the third time you're asking Caleb if it's "good" for him, if he's enjoying it, he's realized you're not just asking because his answer turns you on.

In two seconds flat he has you on your back, arms pinned above your head, hips tucked under his. You can't move at all, not even squirm (is he using his Evol on you?).

Forehead pressed to yours, ominous glint to his eyes, he says, "If you still have the mental capacity to be worried about me, then I'm not doing my job right."

[holespoles]

Miyuta Komachi

"When the apple blossoms bloom"

こまちみゆた

「りんごの花が咲いたら」

[marisatomay]

I was talking about this with a friend but a really interesting cultural shift over the last ohhhhhh ten years maybe is that many people in fandoms view themselves as stakeholders and not audience members. Because of that, they think that the fandom should be running things, or at least have an acknowledged say in how something is run. And every reminder that they are not in control, no matter how small, bothers them.

[tiramistupid]

the lowest, sleepiest “hi baby” they mumble as you join them in bed and nuzzle yourself under their arm

[rattetytat]

[nebulusts]

JUST THINKING ABOUT asking him to peel an orange for you, watching how the sticky sweet citrus drips between his fingertips, sliding down slender digits, staining his knuckles and slipping into the ridges of his skin. thinking about how he knows you're watching him, finding it endearing how your eyes track each and every movement, how your lips tremble the slightest and your own hands twitch to touch, to taste. just thinking about how he scoops up some of the juice, droplets clinging to his fingers, how he brings them up right to your lips and just rests the tips of them right on the plumpness of your bottom one before gently murmuring, "open for me, pretty girl" and you do because there's not a bone in your body that could ever disobey him, letting him slide them into your mouth and rest them on your tongue, watching through a heavy lidded gaze as you suck his fingers clean for him.

[crybaby-bkg]

you’re staring. you know you’re staring, and you know it’s socially impolite and rude, but you can’t help it. social…rightness has never particularly been your strong suit, and you think that the man you’re staring at is going to crush your head in between hands that are more like tiger paws. before he can commence with the head crushing, you approach him, maybe just a bit too rapidly.

Sukuna stares down at you. this awkward, almost bug-eyed stranger, who’s been staring at him from across the produce aisle for one too many seconds now. you don’t even look at the pomegranates below you before you’re making your way over to him, phone up and opened, your mouth opening and closing once, twice.

“spit it out,” he tells you, nose in the air. you note that he doesn’t have a cart or a basket, and is holding too many things in his hands that shouldn’t be possible. again; tiger claws. his voice reverberates through the quiet aisles of the store, and you blink back into focus, staring again. he can count the moles on your skin from your proximity.

“your tattoos are really nice,” you start out, replaying back in your head your rehearsed lines, trying to keep your voice steady. “the black is so solid, and the line work is incredible.”

you pause, waiting for his acknowledgment, his grunt of thanks. he doesn’t say anything and neither do you until he, briskly, lifts and drops a shoulder in what you assume is his version of thanks. you continue, and he can’t help but narrow his eyes a bit in amusement at your little quirks.

“can I ask the artist who did them? I’d like to get my sleeve done by someone who’s as precise as whoever did yours.” smile. blink. slightly hold up your phone in indication that you’re ready to start typing when he speaks. Sukuna watches you for a long moment, maroon eyes raking you in ever so slowly, feels the familiar tingle behind his teeth when he wants to taste flesh.

“his name is Mahito,” he tells you, but holds a large hand (paw) up when you begin to type. “but he’s a fucking creep, so don’t go to him.”

oh. your mouth opens and closes once more. you’re about to tell him thanks and turn on your heel when he stops you, giving you the first glint of the lilting at the corner of his lips. is it a smile?

“got this other guy I frequent sometimes,” the man tells you, leaning against the produce, uncaring of how his thick hip squishes a bunch of bananas. you want to comment on it, but hold your tongue, wide eyes enraptured with the big man in front of you, who—who smiles? it feels more like a baring of teeth, but you accept it anyway. “I work on his car, he does my tattoos for free. I’ll take you by there sometime.”

the man snatches your phone from your hands without preamble, shifting the rest of his groceries into that singular paw. you can only watch wide eyed as he single-handedly types something into your phone, his teeth sharp as he downright leers at you when he hands it back.

you barely get out a thanks before the man disappears around a corner, more black thick ink peeking out from beneath the tank top that pulls at his broad shoulders. you look down at your phone, find a number, and wonder if it’s his, or the tattoo shop’s. you have a feeling you already know which one.

[lunarmochi]

dreamt that i skinned and filleted two whole fish by hand. like damn, that was cool

[lunarmochi]

i posted this when i woke up and i genuinely forgot i did. i was scrolling through my dashboard and was like... "???? did i post this??"

[mephistopheles]

"bottom" please consider 🫵 whether the word you are looking for is in fact "submissive" ! because if we decide that taking dick means your personality & character r inherently subservient 😃 we might as well just throw in the towel on the most basic premise of feminism & 🔫 kill ourselves 🎉

[cosmogyros]

[lunarmochi]

dreamt that i skinned and filleted two whole fish by hand. like damn, that was cool

[bfbkg]

asking new boyfriend bakugou to get your charger from your beside table drawer and his jaw drops at the sight of dildos and vibrators and sex toys he doesn’t even know the name of.

to these small bullet ones and pale pink vibrator wands. then these seven inch black veined dildos, a purple five inch one with ridges, a six inch smooth mauve one and multiple with those clit rabbit heads. a rose, one he is unable to describe but he thinks is for your clit. these hot pink suction nubs for your nipples, a remote for god knows what, batteries and a load of wires. then a bottle of lube. a big one that’s half full. the least surprising item is the unwrapped box of condoms.

“what the fuck?” he utters and when you walk in behind him you laugh.

“no, not that drawer! the one below it!” you say, closing away all your toys and opening the other one, pulling out your white phone charger.

“you… you have so many,” bakugou breathes and he has to blink two more times than necessary to not imagine you using one. fuck.

you shrug, “not really. my friends gifted me some, some were on sale and some were recommended online.”

you’re so casual about it, the fact he found over fifteen toys beside your bed, roaming freely that it empowers him. he pulls out the drawer again. clears his throat.

“w-which is your favourite?” he doesn’t know why he’s stuttering. his dick is hardening by the second. you in the morning with the sunlight streaming in using that dildo with the rabbit head. or you in the evening after work on your bed, with the vibrator with the big head. you like when he rolls you on your stomach during sex, do you use your toys like that too? nipples pinched, dildo in, vibrator on your clit?

“oh my god katsuki. you’ve gone all red,” you giggle, placing your hand on his forearm to reach up to kiss the corner of his mouth on your tiptoes, “are you imagining me using them?”

“no,” he blurts, then roughly wipes his nose. he flicks his eyes down your body, “i do wanna see you use them. if you’d want?”

“you know we’re dating now? you don’t have to be so nervous talking about sex.”

you’re so confident, winking at him, still not closing the drawer. he imagines you cleaning them in your bathroom, wrists flicking down the plastic cocks, wet and soapy after orgasming minutes ago.

“i’m not fuckin’ nervous,” he looks at the drawer, then back to your smiling face, “use one for me. on your bed.”

you raise your eyebrows and he rolls his eyes.

“please.”

your eyes practically glow, teeth biting into your bottom lip, “okay, sir. let me put my phone on charge first.”

[leighsartworks216]

Lowkey inspired by this post by @snoozer-crow

For some reason, reading it (again) just made me think like.. what if Sylus wanted you to be a little more bratty. Push back against the feeling of being "bad" and feel comfortable being more than the submissive, "I must behave Or Else" mindset you've grown into

Like, it starts slow. Simple and easy. He's been cheating at a game and you're pouting, naturally upset, and he wants you to keep it up. Don't apologize, don't try to cater to him - be upset. Tell him you're pissed off. Keep being mad at him for as long as you can while he worships you, smirking like a bastard and tutting when you start to slip into trying to be "good". He praises you after, of course, he knows you're a sucker for it

When he ties you down, he wants you to struggle and writhe and try kicking him away. He's not insulted, he assures you. He loves it. He loves harnessing all the pent up anger and emotion inside of you and giving it an outlet. You kick him in the stomach hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Before you can apologize, he's covering your mouth and letting out a guttural, shaky moan, still a little winded. Eye aglow as he growls for you to do it again

But like, imagine it all coming to a head one day. You've had a shitty week, you're so fucking angry, overwhelmed, tired, and it's during one of these "lessons" that you just break. You're hitting him, becoming weaker and weaker as tears start breaking free. There's no coordination left to the attack. Your breaths get choked up, gasping out all the things that upset you lately, until you're hyperventilating around sobs

And Sylus just knows he really did push it too far this time

So he shushes you gently. Lifts you into his arms to cradle you until you feel small and safe, encouraging you to breathe with him, "You're doing so good for me, sweetie." Rocking you steadily back and forth until you can finally start catching your breath. Rubbing your back and kissing your forehead until your sobs have simmered down to sniffles

"You don't have to be angry anymore," he murmurs assuringly. "Good boy. Just keep breathing with me. Let's get you some water, hm?"

[wiltking]

having an oc you're obsessed with feels good as fuck

[cat-the-comet]

devastating: artist who has not practiced fundamentals enough to execute high concept idea eats shit