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EDIT ABOUT ASKS
It has come to my attention that tumblr is now eating my asks, so feel free to send them in several times or DM me about it. I definitely want to be able to read all about some of the ideas y’all have. ❤️
I’m not a very big blog, and I’m not someone with a lot of interesting background, but something absolutely terrifying happened today here in Hawaii.
A 15 year old girl— Mikella Debina— was abducted today, and amber alert has been going off since 7PM or so:
Normally, as we are an island, it’s very unlikely for someone to get very far very quickly, but according to the article I’ll post at the end, the last location her cellphone pinged off of was a cell tower near Kona Airport.
I don’t know if he managed to take her off island, nobody knows really, but her belongings were found not too far away, and I’m very scared for this girl who has yet to live her own life.
I hope that all of you will help me spread the word, get people looking and aware so that maybe— just maybe— she’ll have a chance still.
She was found in Hilo just recently— alive— and the suspect who kidnapped her has fled in a vehicle. We have yet to hear further news, but in the meantime, please reblog this version!
I’m not a very big blog, and I’m not someone with a lot of interesting background, but something absolutely terrifying happened today here in Hawaii.
A 15 year old girl— Mikella Debina— was abducted today, and amber alert has been going off since 7PM or so:
Normally, as we are an island, it’s very unlikely for someone to get very far very quickly, but according to the article I’ll post at the end, the last location her cellphone pinged off of was a cell tower near Kona Airport.
I don’t know if he managed to take her off island, nobody knows really, but her belongings were found not too far away, and I’m very scared for this girl who has yet to live her own life.
I hope that all of you will help me spread the word, get people looking and aware so that maybe— just maybe— she’ll have a chance still.
I know a lot of you are probably expecting like... an actual post, but I’m sorry to let you down.
After experiencing some major fandom burnout I have yet to recover from, I’m steadily losing interest in writing for MHA characters.
I do still love it, but creating new content that I can be happy to share is not happening for me anymore, and I don’t think I’ll be coming back any time soon.
In the meantime, I’m hoping that focusing on writing more original works and focusing on areas I’ve been wanting to explore will help me work through whatever funk I’m experiencing, and I’ll be able to write here again soon.
With that said:
I do have some things I originally wrote for Patreon queued up. Unfortunately, I was made to remove them, but I liked them too much to get rid of indefinitely, so I’ll be aiming to post any MHA related ones here.
Thank you to everyone who’s been patient with me thus far, thank you to everyone who supported me, and thank you to my silent readers who enjoyed my writing enough to leave a like, maybe a reblog, or just a follow.
Citruscast is a completely free fandom podcast where we discuss all manner of fandom-related topics. Find all episodes here. No membership required.
For Citruscast Episode 3 we are exploring the death of fandoms! We'll be diving into the "why" of fandom implosions. Homestuck, Voltron, Vampire Chronicles are just a few examples. We'll also discuss why we believe the BNHA fandom is falling apart, and if there's a snowballs chance in hell that it can be reversed!
As always, we want to hear your thoughts and answer any questions you may have. Were you part of a fandom that imploded? What do you believe was the cause? Are you in one now that feels at risk? What do you believe is the reason things are going South? Let us know here!
If you want to support the podcast, please reblog!
Citruscast is a completely free fandom podcast where we discuss all manner of fandom-related topics. Find all episodes here. No membership required.
For Citruscast Episode 3 we are exploring the death of fandoms! We'll be diving into the "why" of fandom implosions. Homestuck, Voltron, Vampire Chronicles are just a few examples. We'll also discuss why we believe the BNHA fandom is falling apart, and if there's a snowballs chance in hell that it can be reversed!
As always, we want to hear your thoughts and answer any questions you may have. Were you part of a fandom that imploded? What do you believe was the cause? Are you in one now that feels at risk? What do you believe is the reason things are going South? Let us know here!
If you want to support the podcast, please reblog!
Closing the Distance (Izuku Midoriya x reader lemon)
I’ll do a Deku just for you. You know if I could I’d write you something much longer. You deserve the world. Thank you so much for all you do for me and the Citrus Dome server. Without you I wouldn’t be able to keep up. And thank you so much for all your support. Going on a year of loyal awesomeness and I could never thank you enough. Please go check out @saint-eridell for quality Izuku content. Hope I do him justice for you. This was part of my 8k follower event. <3
Socials: Twitter, Patreon, Ko-fi
Warnings: DDLG term, safe sex.
Prompt: Long time roommates
Dialogue prompt: “I hope you know I’m never letting you go now.”
As usual, Izuku’s mind was his worst enemy.
“Oh man… I wonder if they’ll be upset if I drink the last Redbull… I mean, I’ll replace it as soon as possible… but God knows how long that’ll be. What if I get held up by villains? Certainly that’s not far outside the realm of possibles.”
“Izuku. Drink the fucking Red-bull.”
The shriek he loosed at the unexpected sound of your voice was unholy. Certainly not a sound you’d expect from Tokyo’s number one pro hero. If only villains knew how skittish he could be in the comfort of his own home.
As he spun, he slammed the fridge door with a bit more force than he probably intended.
“Dude, breathe,” you told him, trying not to chuckle as he took deep, calming breaths.
“Whew. I’m good, I’m good.”
It was uncommon for you to run into him like this. Typically, Izuku would be gone by the time you woke up, and not return home until late in the evening. You assumed he’d taken the late shift, allowing him some time to rest before he started work at noon.
Carefully, you reached past him, opening the fridge to fetch the drink he’d been agonizing over for far too long.
Rules: Google/search your name + your favorite color + the word ‘aesthetic’. Take the first four (non collage) photos and voila, you have your aesthetic moodboard! Then tag your friends and moots to join
It’s 1 am and I can’t sleep, so here’s some miscellaneous HCs I made based on how I feel Bakugou, Denki, Kiri, Sero, and Shinsou would be like in a relationship:
——————————
Bakugou:
- Has never considered being in a relationship before
- He’s so driven towards his goals that it’s no surprise he hasn’t thought twice about it
- But now that he’s here, there’s a ton of challenges to overcome
- Pro hero Bakugou isn’t as aggressive as his younger self, but that doesn’t mean he won’t get heated
- HOWEVER
- I personally believe that Bakugou would never cheat
- He’s rough and kind of an asshole, but he’s also driven and headstrong. There’s absolutely no reason for him to cheat
- You could argue that he got hit by a powerful quirk that made him do it, but his pride would NOT settle for that
- Though he would never cheat, arguments at the start of your relationship will be fairly common
- Usually it’s about how he pushes himself too much or that he keeps missing dates because hero work piles up and he just forgets
- and though he doesn’t mean to neglect you, it’s going to happen
- He’s not used to being with another person. Making arrangements are foreign concepts to him, so he won’t really think much about it
- Fights will be heated and often painful, but give him enough time to stew on it and he’ll probably come back and agree that he needs to do better. He has pride, but he knows how to bite his tongue and pull his head out when he needs to
- But if you’re patient enough, the fights will steadily decrease until they’re just petty things that are usually just jokes
- He doesn’t forget arguments and agreements either
- He actually thinks about all the fights you used to have with each other fairly often, both to remind himself to do better and to really drive home just how lucky he is to have you by his side
- especially with how hotheaded he can be
—————
Denki:
- the poor boy lowkey has impostor syndrome
- He blatantly disregards himself and his own abilities; he even openly admits that he feels like he’s holding Bakugou and Kirishima back at one point.
- Incredibly insecure despite the flirting and playboy-ish attitude he has, so reminding him that he’s great and inflating his ego isn’t really such a bad thing
- though gently remind him to keep his feet planted on the Earth every once in a while when he gets a little too carried away
- Doesn’t like getting into arguments because it makes him anxious and jittery. He also has a bad habit of seemingly shrugging things off or acting like he doesn’t really care, but he will think about it and do his best to change
- Though it doesn’t always work out, so gently reminding him a few times will help him get into better habits
- As a Pro, his tolerance and threshold for his quirk are greatly risen, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t gone yay mode a couple of times
- The media definitely has turned it into a pretty painful joke that stabs into him, but he’ll definitely do everything possible to hide how much it hurts
- Denki is, by no means, stupid. Sure, he’s not very intelligent compared to the rest of class 1-A, but he’s still smart enough to have made it in. They went through written tests as well, and he would have ended up in 1-B if he wasn’t smarter than that
- Though we don’t really have much to compare it to since they don’t focus a whole lot on academics
-but I digress
- it exhausts him mentally and emotionally to have to smile through the mocking and laughing even if it’s just to keep his PR up, so taking the time to point out that he’s much much more than yay is a sure-fire way to make him absolutely smitten
- definitely very soft, and as he starts to really grow into your relationship, he’ll find himself doing more and more for you.
- Not that he does nothing at the start, but he finds more and more comfort in being able to take care of you
- absolutely adores when you have to rely on him for things because he feels useful— especially since he doubts his own abilities
- though there are bad days that require a lot of TLC and encouragement to get through. Sitting down with him and making him do self-love and a light self-care routine will help for sure though.
—————
Will do Kiri, Sero, and Shinsou once I wake up because sleep is starting to consume me.
It’s been way too long since I’ve been motivated to work on this piece. But at last… at long last… part two is ready for takeoff! Once again I thank/blame @miscellaneous-bnha for inspiring this piece of monster fuckery (even though there’s no fuckery in this story… yet).
Enjoy!
Part 1
•••••
You become more distracted and nervous than usual over the next week or so. The slightest sound nearly makes you jump out of your skin and you keep making careless mistakes at work. Even your boss checks in with you to make sure you aren’t sick or losing your grip on reality. You assure him everything is fine and blame your poor performance and skittish nature on a made-up relative’s failing health. In truth, you can’t go for more than a few minutes without thinking about the blonde beast, his beautiful yet terrifying presence seeming to loom over you wherever you go. But you don’t dare tell any of your friends or coworkers about what you saw.
Who would believe you? At best, they’d think you were telling a bad joke and at worst they’d try to cart you off to the nearest mental hospital. So you keep your thoughts private, suffering in silence and staying up late to research who or what you saw that night.
And it's during one of your late-night Internet searches that you stumble across a forum dedicated to winged, humanoid creatures known as “mothmen.” 
While the stories mainly originate from the Eastern United States, there have also been purported sightings as far as Japan. And though details may have varied slightly, the key features of the monsters always remain the same: massive height, glowing eyes, and of course the moth-like wings. You’d spent hours poring over your laptop that night, reading the information and accounts posted by other “mothman survivors.” Some stories were rather nice. One woman claimed the mothman she encountered was gentle, bordering on intelligent. She wrote about the gifts and trinkets it brought from time to time and it’s attempts at communication. But the majority were horrifying, with several people posting tales of the beasts attacking without provocation, leaving them injured and afraid. Someone even posted a picture of the deeply scarred claw marks on his chest and arms, claiming them to be the work of a particularly savage mothman. Regardless of their validity, one thing was for sure: the mothmen were unpredictable.
By the end of the second week, you’ve grown so desperate to stop the near constant waking nightmares that you decide to take a proactive approach to the matter. It’s a simple plan: set a trap, wait for the monster to reappear, and collect photo evidence. Even if it’s only to soothe your own self-doubts, you need to have definitive proof of its– of his existence.
On Friday night, you come home late from work, so late the sun has just barely set over the horizon. After a hot shower and a quick meal of instant noodles, you grab a shallow bowl from the cupboard and fill it with lukewarm water. One of the contributors to the website claimed that mothmen like sugar water, much like the insects they resemble. Another had proposed they might even enjoy the taste of cloth or fiber, but you weren’t about to sacrifice one of your favorite sweaters on a wild hunch.
You spoon in a generous amount of sugar into the bowl, mixing well to create a saccharine slurry before heading for the farthest living room window. Unlike the one you’d spotted the mothman from, this one is partially obscured by a rickety fire escape, the metal encrusted with decades worth of rust and snaking up the side of the building. Opening the window and leaning out of it, you place the dish of bait on one of the steps before hauling yourself back inside. You shut the window and settle yourself on the couch, a blanket and book in your lap and your phone’s camera at the ready. Hours tick by, the waning moon slowly creeping by in the night sky as you hold your silent vigil. As you wait in suffocating silence, you start to feel foolish and begin to think your “mothman” might have been nothing more than a product of an overactive imagination and one too many late nights in the office. Even with all your research, all you had to go by was a few wild stories posted by Internet strangers and a missing frying pan. You finally nod off around two in the morning, unable to keep your heavy eyelids open.
•••
WHAM!
A noise from outside jolts you awake from your spot on the couch, followed by the sound of creaking, groaning metal. The whole apartment seems to shake and an unearthly screech accompanies the final creak as you hear the fire escape give way before clattering into the alleyway. Other tenants on all floors start opening their windows and doors, shouting and swearing about the noise and the landlord “not keeping this shithole up to code.” It’s utter chaos for a few minutes and then silence falls once more, your neighbors still grumbling as they retreat back into their homes. You scramble off the couch and to the window, gazing into the alley for any sign of life. The moon isn’t as bright as last time, but you can just barely make out the mangled remains of the fire escape and the faintest glimpse of gold. Throwing caution to the wind, you grab a well-worn hoodie, your phone, and the kitchen knife. You make your way down the three flights of stairs to the alley door, opening it cautiously should you encounter an angry cryptid on the other side. But there’s no one there, so you take a deep breath and head out into the apocalyptic looking alley. Metal is strewn everywhere, with part of the railing still clinging to the side of the building like a deranged centipede. Snapped metal bars jut out at odd angles, creating a maze of twisted, rusty spikes and sharp edges. You slowly pick your way over and around the wreckage, using your phone’s flashlight as a guide so you don’t end up tripping and accidentally impaling yourself.
“Hello?” You call into the darkness, “Mothman? A-are you there?”
Your call is rewarded with a shuddering groan and the sounds of scraping metal. You shine your light on the biggest tangle of steel, watching as something large moves underneath it. The pile of metal shifts upwards and falls away, while a large, dark figure rises from the shadows. They’re silhouetted against the dim moonlight but just as intimidating as before, hunching over as the appendages on their back shake and rustle. You turn the flashlight on and find yourself looking into a familiar pair of glassy, blue eyes. The mothman stares back at you, folding his wings against his back and cocking his handsome head from side to side.
“You- you’re real.” You breathe, feeling your heart jump into your throat as you surreptitiously pull up your phone’s camera. The monster chitters in response as he sniffs at the air, stepping over a piece of rusted debris to get closer to you. You quickly snap and picture... and the alley is suddenly lit up with blinding light.
You’d forgotten to turn off the flash!
The mothman blinks in response and lets out a groan, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut. You drop your phone and crouch down, knife forgotten as you cover your head with your hands and prepare for him to lash out. But no claws come to tear at your flesh nor are there any angry roars or shrieks. Instead the beast starts to emit low, rumbling noise, like a growl but far less sinister. You hear metal being dragged across the concrete followed by the sound of heavy footfalls. You cautiously open one eye to see a pair of clawed feet and muscular calves, only to squeak in alarm when his face abruptly appears in your field of vision. You fall backwards in surprise, landing heavily on your rump while the mothman squats mere inches from you. His eyes are fixed on the ground, gently running his nails over the now cracked screen of your upturned phone. Even in the dim lighting you can see his curious, wide-eyed expression and it suddenly dawns on you what that noise he’s making is: he’s purring. Or near enough to it.
“W-What do you want?”
The monster looks up when you speak, cocking his head slightly before turning back to paw at the phone once more. He’s more insistent this time, his swipes becoming bolder as the phone scratches across the concrete. He gives the device a few well-placed taps before making eye contact once more, his brow furrowed as he briefly switches from purring to a chittering cry. With a gulp, you gingerly set down the blade, reach across your body and flip the phone over, the still lit flashlight illuminating the alley once more. The beast’s eye’s blow even wider, enchanted by the light shining upwards into the starry sky. You sit in silence for a few seconds, the only sounds are your heavy breathing and the guttural purrs coming from the mesmerized mothman. As your heart rate slows, you begin to notice more intimate details about the creature before you.
For one, his wings are covered in the same fur that rings his neck and, though it’s shorter and more fine, they look just as soft.
Second, he’s incredibly warm. A steady heat rolls off his body in waves that seem a stark contrast to what one might expect from a bug-centric cryptid.
But most noticeable of all is his smell.
It’s not a bad smell by any means; in fact, it’s downright pleasant. The odor is a cross between lemonade and petrichor, a soothing blend of sweet citrus and earthy musk. You find yourself unconsciously breathing more through your nose, feeling lightheaded as his scent floods your senses and making you relax into the cold pavement. As your eyes lazily drift over his naked form you see he’s holding something in his other hand, protectively clutching it against his chest. You tilt your head to get a better view, the subtle movement getting the monster’s attention and causing him to drag his eyes away from the light and focus on you again.
“What’s that?” You ask softly, almost dreamily, and point to his chest. The mothman’s eyes follow your finger down to his right hand, pulling it away to reveal your (still remarkably intact) bowl. It’s largely empty of its contents, but some of the sugar water has stuck to his fur and cooled into sweet, matted clumps. He squeaks at the sight of it, almost like he’d forgotten about the bait and dives into it to eagerly lap at the ceramic bottom. When it fails to yield anything substantial he huffs and turns his attention to his dirtied mane. He dips his head as a long, pink tongue slithers out of his mouth and curls around the largest tangle, laving over the sugar-crusted mat before quickly retreating. He chitters in satisfaction at the taste, barely glancing up at you before diving back down for more.
“So you do like sugar.” You mutter under your breath, a small chuckle bubbling up in your chest on the exhale. The mothman pays you no mind, too engrossed in his work to notice how you shift your body into a more comfortable sitting position to watch. After a few minutes, the creature stops licking at himself and looks back up at you, eyes still wide and expression almost curious as he cocks his head to the side once more. Tentatively shifting his weight forward, he extends the empty bowl to you.
“I don’t have any more.” You whisper softly, confused yet intrigued by his gentle actions. The mothman grunts and takes another shuffling step, hand still outstretched and his brow softly furrowing. He seems insistent, almost annoyed that you won’t accept his generous offer. Not wanting to anger him, you gingerly extend your own right hand, pinching the rim of the bowl between thumb and forefinger before carefully pulling it from his grip. Holding the bowl against your own chest, you take a stab at what he wants from you and raise the ceramic dish to your lips to give a noisy, pretend slurp. You feel like an adult humoring a child in a game of “tea party,” offering him a cheesy smile and an “mmm” of satisfaction as you pull the empty bowl away from your face. The creature’s own face splits in a too-wide grin, wings flapping excitedly and chittering happily at your display. A quiet gasp is ripped from you throat as you finally get a good look at his teeth.
They’re practically perfect; two rows of pearly white, blunted incisors frames by sharpened, too-long canines on either end. And the smile he’s giving you is nothing short of exuberant, beaming like a drop of sunshine made incarnate. You find yourself returning his smile with a genuine one of your own, amazingly unafraid in the face of this otherwise inhuman beast. But your relief is short-lived as the monster suddenly shifts onto his knees and bounds towards you on all fours.
“Woah, woah, woah!” You squeak, scrabbling backwards and nearly skewering yourself on a jagged piece of wreckage in an attempt to get away. “Take it easy! Down, boy!”
The mothman stops with his face mere inches from yours, clawed hands planted on either side of your hips and still grinning from ear to ear. Carefully, he lowers his golden head to rest against your left shoulder, nuzzling into the sensitive flesh and purring softly in your ear. It’s an act of unbelievable tenderness, of affection, and it stirs something deep within your jackhammering heart. Moving slowly so as to not startle him, you relinquish your hold on the empty bowl and raise your right hand to his head, gently placing it against his temple. At the feeling of your fingers in his hair, the creature freezes for a second and you suck in a quick breath, prepared to pay the price for your boldness. But simply leans further into your touch, closing his eyes contentedly and pushing against your palm like an obedient pet as his purring reaches a fever pitch.
“Good… good boy.” You exhale slowly, thumb brushing across the apple of his surprisingly warm cheek. “That’s a good boy.”
You stay locked together for what feels like ages, the only sounds your own heavy breathing and the monster’s soft purrs of pleasure as you stroke him. Finally you finds your voice again and you softly stammer out, “Do you– do you have a name?”
His eyes open slightly at your question, briefly raising his head with a small chirp. Removing your hand from his face, you splay your palm across your chest and give it two quick pats.
“Y/N.” You say slowly, enunciating each syllable, “I’m Y/N.”
The creature cocks his head for a second and pulls away from you to get into a kneeling position. You pat your chest and repeat yourself once more. The mothman then takes one of his own massive paws and places it on his own chest, mirroring your movements.
“M-Mir…” He chokes out, voice raspy but surprisingly human, like he hasn’t used it in a long time. “Mir… io. Mirio.”
“Mirio?”
Hearing his name fall from your lips elicits another bright smile from the mothman, wings giving a single flap as he curls his hand into a fist atop his sternum.
“Mirio!” He says more boldly, giving his chest two hearty thumps for emphasis.
“Mirio.” You repeat softly, “That’s a nice name.”
His eyes soften at your words, almost as if he understood the compliment. He opens his mouth once more, but before he can speak, a new voice cuts through the night air.
“Hey! What’s going on over there?”
You whip your head towards the source of the noise, moments before you feel a rush of cold air accompanied by a sharp hiss. Someone is picking their way through the wreckage to your location, their own flashlight sweeping over the heaps of rusted metal until it lands on your startled face. Squinting into the light, you can barely make out the silhouette of a man and you feel a bolt of panic shoot through you. You turn back to face Mirio only to find him gone.
“Mirio?” You speak into the darkness, as if uttering the word might make him reappear. But there’s only empty space and silence, punctuated by the heavy footfalls of the stranger coming ever closer to you. It’s only when he’s within a few feet that you can make out the telltale flash of gold on his chest: an officer’s badge.
“Are you alright?” The man asks of you, still shining the flashlight directly into your face. “Are you hurt?”
“Huh? Oh! Yes. I’m fine, sir.”
“Are you sure?” The officer asks quizzically, extending a hand for you to take. You graciously accept his offer, retrieving the forgotten bowl and phone from the concrete with your free hand before hauling yourself back onto your feet.
“Y-yes I’m sure.” You stammer out, “I just, uh… I heard a noise outside my apartment and came to investigate.”
“Awfully late to be investigating strange noises in an alley.” He says incredulously, cocking one eyebrow and shining his light over the ruined fire escape at his feet for emphasis. “Especially in this part of town.”
His light catches on something glinting at your feet and your eyes follow it to land on the forgotten kitchen knife on the ground. His own eyes snap back to you and narrow suspiciously, free hand slowly moving towards the holster resting against his hip.
“Are you alone out here?”
“Yes, sir!” You squeak back automatically, “I swear it’s just me. I live in this apartment complex.”
You gesture to the brick-fronted side of the building to your right as proof of your innocence, praying to all the powers that be that he buys your story. The officer narrows his eyes at you, muttering a quiet, “Huh. Could’ve sworn I saw someone…” before clearing his throat and straightening his posture.
“Well in any case, you should probably head inside now, miss. There have been reports of criminal activity in the area as of late and I wouldn’t want you getting hurt. What with all this rusty metal lying around.”
“Yeah, no use getting a tetanus shot over nothing!” You say jokingly, giving a nervous chuckle as the officer nods solemnly. You don’t dare go to pick up the knife, deciding it’s better to lose another kitchen utensil than land yourself in any more hot water. With a few more parting words, and a declined offer to let him walk you back home, you quickly skirt around the remains of the fire escape and into the safety of the stairwell door. Your mind and heart are racing as you plod up the stairs to the third floor, buzzing with questions without answers as you finally enter and lock the door to your one-bedroom sanctuary. Exhaling a breath you don’t know you were holding, you walk silent over to the living room windows and cast a final glance into the alleyway below. You can see the officer’s flashlight bobbing along as he makes his way around the scattered remains of the fire escape, only to switch off once he reaches the end of the alleyway and resumes his patrol of the neighborhood. But you still wait by the window for a few more minutes, wondering (and perhaps hoping) if you’d catch a final glimpse of flaxen hair or hear the steady beat of wings.
Silence reigns above all, the soft glow of the moon your only companion now.
With a heavy sigh, you peel your eyes away from the wreckage and plod off to your bedroom, stripping off your hoodie and sweatpants as you go. Curling up under the covers, you grab the pillow closest to you and hug it to your chest. If you close your eyes, you can almost believe you can still feel the warmth of his face on your neck, or smell the aroma of him lingering on your skin.
CW: DD/lg dynamics, rough sex, mild degradation, mild mentions of breeding, mild spanking, overstimulation, post Stockholm Syndrome relationship
——————————
Sero couldn’t resist how cute you looked when you hugged your teddy bear so close to you.
He’d bought it for you one day when you had admitted how lonely you got when he was away. Since he couldn’t let you out— or anyone else in, for that matter— he decided to buy you a stuffed bear.
Only now you carried it everywhere with you. Literally...
I know that all I’ve been posting lately are Teasers for my Patreon works and tag games I’ve been tagged in, but I still appreciate all of you— new and old— who still come around to leave likes and reblogs on my works. It really means a lot to me.
It’s been a rough month around some personal issues, but if things go well, I’ll be able to devote more time into creating the kind of content I want to make.
For now, I thank you all for being so patient with me.
CW: Yandere themes, mentions of blood, knife play, mildly dub-con, obsessive behavior, toxic relationship, mild exhibitionism, public sex, cunnilingus, breeding, delusional Kylar, mild use of mommy (in relation to breeding)
——————————
“You...” the sound of your blood rushing through your ears nearly drowns out his voice, “Why did you run away? You promised remember? You promised you’d stay!”
You swallow thickly, trying not to flinch when the edge of his knife digs into your neck, “Kylar...” he titters anxiously,
“Y-you said you’d wait for me. You s-said...” he huffs and readjusts the grip he has on his knife, barely pulling it away before pressing it against your skin once more, “why did you leave me?” You don’t say anything, afraid that you could set him off.
Realistically, he wouldn’t kill you— he would never— but you don’t doubt that he would hurt you if you made one wrong step.
