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#but i could probably get in trouble for that lol

hellspawnmotel · 1 day

Note

Saw your latest art about Chara.

Absolutely love it!

Although I can’t help but wonder, what is your take on Chara anyway? Sorry for asking, I’m just curious.

Oh, no problem! Umm it's.... complicated? lol. Chara is a pretty broad subject...... I think they were a very troubled kid who, in all honestly, probably wasn't very good to Asriel as a friend or a sibling. They could be pushy, violent, and manipulative. They loved Asriel, as much as Asriel loved them, but sometimes that isn't enough, and who knows whether they intentionally poisoned Asgore or not, or why they laughed about it later.... it's been common to justify or try and explain Chara's more questionable actions as misunderstood or taken out of context, but tbh I don't think we actually need to do that. I don't think, even in the worst case scenario where Chara purposefully hurt their family at every moment we see it, that makes them a demon, or irredeemable, or that they even NEED to be redeemed. At the end of the day, Chara was a child who committed suicide- whether the intended outcome was to free monsterkind or to destroy humanity, or just to die. Even with the least charitable interpretations taken as gospel, shouldn't they still be worthy of love? Isn't the whole point of Undertale that anybody can become a friend and be understood, if only you reach out to them?

(I'm also a firm believer that Chara is the narrator no matter the route, which informs a lot of their personality to me, and also means that we get to decide their arc as a ghost. That makes way more sense to me than a story like this just going uhhh yeah that kid was pure evil the whole time or whatever lol.)

#asks #suicide tw #if you want my thoughts on any specific aspect of chara or their lore........ my inbox is always open.........

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class1akids · 2 days

Text

BNHA Chapter 425 - Thoughts

So I guess Hori did decide to just skip the end of the battle, my hospital academia and go straight to UA graduation?

It was teased back in Ch 360, so yeah it needed to happen and it seems like drawing Neijire is a special happy place for Hori (also the sketch he couldn't even wait until Sunday to drop, lol)

Mic DJ-ing right after ShiraGiri's death is sort of odd, but on top of the gags, there are some more serious moments.

What stood out to me was Mirio's comment about how the heroes' fight "is always for the sake of returning the negatives to zero on the whole." It reminded me of Ch 341 - The Story of how We All Became Heroes Minus ① which featured Touya, Toga, Spinner and of course Tomura suffering the transformation. So I can't help but feel it's related to the LoV's fate.

The class is together 😭 crying like a proud parent (whose tumblr handle just became obsolete).... and Aizawa is staying. Yay. After 400+ chapters they made it to second year!!!

Bakugou omg, out of the hospital in a tie which he somehow tied with one hand, being calm... (it's still odd to the others? - but I guess his apology happened like 3 weeks ago in-verse). It seems like he might end up with a scar, just like Izuku (and it's a bit like Kudou's, of course).

Aoyama leaving - I talked about this in one of the asks, but for me it's ok that it's his choice being respected and that the class clearly would be happy to have him stay. Though I wonder if his parents are just suddenly given amnesty for being "AFO's victims" and what that may mean for other villains.

Shinsou joins Class A long at last. Yay! Is he going to get Aoyama's room or join the 5th floor boys? I do wonder if the kids are still in the dorms even.

The Fuwa-stans are getting fed. But Class 2-A (can't get used to this...) will take a year long field trip around Japan. Reminds me of the 100 million tour newpaper sketches.

I liked Shoto mentioning AFO - how he was born in an era of turmoil (which I read as him saying that preventing the rise of such villains is now). It also seems to contradict what All Might said last chapter about Deku already being the greatest hero to everyone.

But also Shouto speaks. Normal speech bubbles. Has a normal voice! Yay! (still don't get it why he didn't speak in Ch 422 though)

Izuku looks troubled. Either because of what Shouto said or because of Fuwa senpai's comments about needing to experience a sudden death to understand why you'd want to be a hero. He certainly is not ready to run celebratory circles.

Watch them all walk together (TDBK covered by Iida's speech bubble, but I recognize them from Shouto's messenger bag and Katsuki's loose pants)

OMG, these guys are a total disaster. I don't know what Deku wanted to say, but Ochako obviously shut him down (and thought it was about her "let him rest" speech which apparently the class keeps teasing her for). Also Hori is using her to explain Deku's haircut.

And here, she looks weirdly happy compared to last time, but it could be just a front...

poor Deku though... he thinks she hates his haircut

No idea who the new guy is, but looks like someone escaped / let loose from a medical facility. Could be regenerated Tenko I guess or someone similar to him who can be saved by Deku this time. I prefer it to be the real Tenko because I want to see Tenko Rising. I think he looks too young to be Deku's dad tbh.

TDDK scene !!! Yay!!! (I wonder if Deku tries to talk both to Ochako and Shouto because of his feelings about Tenko... I really badly want a saviour squad scene)

Todoroki looks hopeful but not sure if it's genuine (it could be putting on a front to stop Izuku from worrying). But his foot is like when he went to see his mom the first time, so I tend to read that right now as a good sign.

"っし" (?????) - there is definitely a shift of emotion.

Endeavor is sitting in front of a giant tank / or secure room window. (?) (Probably the same window Shouto was looking in last chapter.

From the context and framing it's clear that it's Touya. For now alive. Endeavor is finally keeping his promise and is watching.

And the editorial blurb also suggests we may get Hellish Todoroki Family 3 after the two weeks break. I'm very worried, but also since we are strapping in for a longer epilogue it seems, I don't expect things to go smoothly for them just yet.

#bnha manga spoilers #bnha manga leaks #bnha 425 #c1a reads bnha #todoroki shouto #endeavor #dabi #todoroki touya #mirio togata #bnha meta #uraraka ochako #class 2 a #that's a thing now #bakugou katsuki #mystery man

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love-toxin · 2 days

Text

Cattle -> Harley Kunuk

plot: a world in which the realm of monsters & yanderes has merged--that's the au you find yourself in as a low-producing cow hybrid. you've never impressed any master as working cattle, always cast aside in favour of prettier, more talented cows. that might change once you get dropped off at the wrong farmer's ranch.

(cws: fem!cow hybrid!reader, chubby+naive reader, yandere themes, explicit smut, lactation, fondling, dry-humping, chest worship, dirty talk/soft degradation, clothed sex/cumming in pants, kinda monsterfucking, power dynamics, reader refers to him as 'Mr. Harley')

a/n: welcome to the long-awaited 'harley x cow hybrid reader' saga LOL

wc: 4.7k (art by milove @the-zipper !! <3)

If not for the grace of the gods, you'd surely be thrown into the ditch or to the wolves by now.

The transition between seedy motels has never been easy, sure, but you've reached new lows since your last rancher kicked you to the curb. Besides, nor has having to deal with the treatment from your superiors been easy when most of them see you as nothing but what your brand reads out.

Cattle.

If farm hybrids have anything, it isn't rights–at least not for undesirables like you. There's probably places out there like Runerhéa where you could live in peace, but this new world is even tougher than the last. When the realms merged as one, everyone on the lower side like you thought it would turn out to be a blessing. Maybe you'd finally get a break and wouldn't have to live like a piece of meat. But so far, it's only been a curse.

Ever since you were passed into the hands of these “livestock traders” your life has been absolute hell. Your last master had at least left you be most of the time, preferring to pay attention to his other, better-producing and prettier cattle rather than get on your case for this or that. These guys that have been toting you around since then have been complete nightmares to deal with–they're callous and cruel and they never let you rest properly, they keep you up all hours of the night with their hollering and drinking and gambling on those awful card games.

Yet, even when you were told that your time with them would be coming to an end, you weren't excited about it. Not one bit. How could you be, when you've been surrounded by horrible people saying such horrible things about your abilities? They've called you “moon-face” and mocked your pitiful history as working cattle, to the point that they've joked about re-branding you and making you a sex toy or something instead, because that's probably all you're good for. You can't even moo right, much less make any milk that doesn't taste sour or curdle within minutes. You're totally useless, and whoever your new owner is, he's quickly going to come to that realization too. Your handlers have been quick to remind you of that, just in case you happen to pick up some worth in yourself on the way there.

That's all you've thought for the past three days since you've been here, too scared to come out from the back of your stall for fear that the big, scary farmer with the loud voice is going to yell at you for not turning out to be what he hoped. You heard him arguing with the traders when you were delivered: ”What the hell is this?! I bought a cow, not some girl! Is this a joke? Did Elias put you up to this?” and since then you've cowered in the corner, refusing even to touch the water and food he brought and left at the door for fear he might just poison you to save the trouble of bringing you back. You've never been kept with real farm animals before, yet even now there's not much interaction you have with them. The big guy put you in a stall far away from his other animals, probably because he thinks you might infect them or something. It's always something with you.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. You've been hearing those noises from outside for the last two days, the sounds of wood scraping and hammering pervading your fuzzy ears and filling your mind with all manner of horrors that might await you. Is he building some kind of horrible torture machine? A rack? A device to forcibly milk you? Oh, that thought sends a chill down your spine. Or is he simply building your coffin? It could be any one of those possibilities or many, many more horrible ones, and it leaves you to tug your floppy ears down and try to block out the noise as you cry softly. I don't wanna die. I don't wanna die, even if I'm bad at being a cow. I just wanna live another day.

You pull the scratchy woolen blanket he left in here closer around your shoulders, hoping and praying with your head bowed that this won't be the end. With the clunk of the barn's door sliding open, with every step you hear thudding closer and closer towards your stall, you tremble harder and hurriedly wipe your tears dry while you pray to the Deity to shelter you from an early grave.

Kh-chunk. The clasp on your stall comes undone from the other side, and with bated breath, you watch as the door rolls open and lets in the streams of light you'd forgotten existed in this endless darkness.

“...Oh.” The farmer utters his surprise softly, his brow easing up as he looks you over. He's perched at the entrance to your stall still, not quite ready to cross the threshold yet. Maybe he's still trying to prepare himself as he sizes you up for the slaughterhouse. “You look…cold.”

You shake your head meekly and throw off the blanket. Straws of hay flutter about your knees as you do so, some of it already stuck in your hair and your meager clothes that don't cover enough for him not to blush and avert his gaze. “Uh…c'mon. We need to move you somewhere else.” He meekly produces a harness from his overalls, but it sits lightly in his hand like he's not really keen on using it. “It'll be safe. C'mon.”

If you weren't a lowly, domestic cow hybrid, one of the very lowest of the monster hybrid species, you'd be tempted to ask if he's always this awkward. He can't even look at you, he barely even breathes once you finally stand and skirt past him out of the stall. And he doesn't dare to touch you as he leads you out of the barn even though you're his property–it's like he doesn't even see you as cattle, but as…you don't even know what.

At the very least, despite the uncertainty around your new home, the first deep breath of fresh air as you step outside reminds you of the home you knew in childhood. Rolling grass in a sea of green, woods out across the field that are far from predators, safe fences and even a big, old farmhouse on the lawn that gives you a sense of homey nostalgia. As big and scary as he looks, maybe he's not so bad after all…maybe, as long as you do everything to appeal to him, he might treat you like nice cattle and not the nuisance you've long been defined as.

As you step out onto the grounds, the farmer introduces himself as Harley. He waits while you sniff around the fresh, clean air a bit before leading you around the side of the barn–that's where a small, shed-like attachment has been built on to the side of the structure, which opens into a surprisingly comfy and spacious area that he must have put together in a hurry. The floorboards have a nice rug over them and there's a soft, downy mattress in the corner on a little frame, and it's all built in and warm like it's an actual room. But when you turn to Harley with a quizzical look on your face and he tells you it's yours, you don't even know how to respond. So you just look at him blankly.

“It's…yours, y'know? It's, uh, like your…bedroom, I guess.” He looks around the space and rubs the back of his sweaty neck, seemingly sheepish about the simple construction even though you're standing there dumbfounded. “I didn't think you'd wanna live in the barn with the animals, but, uh, you wouldn't come in the house. So…yeah.” The silence between you is agony up until he just huffs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Listen, this isn't ideal for me. I don't deal well with people, and you're…sort of one, I guess. To be honest, I hate the idea of sharing my farm with some stranger.” He sighs and runs a hand through his dark hair, incidentally messing up his long ponytail that's just barely keeping all that thick hair tied up. With his hands set on his hips, he looks you dead in the eyes in a way that makes you cower at his sternness. “But you're here now, so whatever. Just behave yourself–and if some guy in a cowboy hat comes around, make yourself scarce. I don't want him messing with my-” He catches himself, but in your bovine wisdom you finish his sentence for him.

“Cattle?”

Harley swallows dryly and nods. “...Cattle. Yeah.” In any case despite the awkwardness and the tense air between you, he shows you how to work the little water pump he built the shed around so you can wash up and drink, your bed and blankets, and where to use the bathroom–which he insists you do inside the house, for no reason that he elaborates on other than the fact that you're able to, so you should. With that he leaves you be, letting you sit and ponder this newfound haven that he so casually dropped in your lap.

By the third day in your little mock cabin, six days since you've arrived here, you're pretty sure you've fallen in love with Mr. Harley. He won't tolerate you calling him ‘Master’ because it makes him all red in the face when you say it, so despite him insisting on no formalities at all you've settled on referring to him as ‘Mr.’ Harley.

It's been an easy process to say the least. Mr. Harley is gruff and speaks bluntly, but he never lays a hand on you and has never called you any mean names. He feeds you more often than he does his other animals, and despite getting annoyed and scolding you if you don't eat like you didn't the first three days, he's always gentle and doesn't yell or kick things over when he's mad. Plus, he treats his other farm animals real nice–you've heard him cooing and calling them by their names when he pets them, and most of them come running or perk their ears up when they hear his voice from far away. One of the chickens even tried to peck you when Mr. Harley was showing you around, and had his hand on your arm as he showed you how to feed them. They love him so much they even get jealous, and it's easy to see why. Mr. Harley is so caring and kind-hearted. He's got pretty brown eyes and such a low, deep voice, and big muscles, and soft hair, he's more handsome than any other master or trader you've come across in your whole life. It's no wonder you've fallen in love with Mr. Harley.

Where it's becoming an issue, however, is with your milk.

The first little while you were here, Mr. Harley didn't even make a mention about your production. There wasn't any bucket around for you to show him anyways, so you've been sitting around letting the milk build up and up and up until you're sore and swollen. The only reason you're sat in your shed with a bucket in your lap now is because Mr. Harley noticed your discomfort (because he's such a nice and caring farmer…) but, with you being too worried about your quality and Mr. Harley being too red-faced to stick around and watch, you're coming up on the end of the day without a drop to show for it. If you don't give him anything, he'll think you're a disobedient cow! But if you squeeze out your milk and it tastes sour, or makes him sick…oh, you couldn't bear to think of making Mr. Harley hate you with the taste of your milk. It's quite the dilemma that you have no easy way of getting out of, so you do what's likely the better option: you milk out just enough to make the swelling go down, but not so much that the taste will be too strong if it's bad.

But even with your clever thinking, your knees shake as you perch on your bed and listen to the big, thudding footsteps of Mr. Harley coming towards the shed. The moment the door slides open you spring into action, and pick up the bucket a quarter full of milk to hand to him, hoping beyond hope that he won't be upset over how little there is.

“..Huh.” After he jolts slightly at your sudden movement toward him, Harley glances down at the bucket and back up at you as he takes it gingerly, peering down at the milk as if it's some sort of magic that you've managed to fill it even as little as you did. He raises his hand and your instincts force you to flinch, your eyes squeezing shut as you anticipate a hit or something equally awful. But the moment passes because Mr. Harley pats your head instead, stroking your hair and your fuzzy ears gently before hiking up the bucket to grab and hold it by the handle. “Good girl.”

Good girl? Are those words for real? Was that…praise? And so easily given, at that?

You're practically on your knees by the time he steps out of the shed, they're so wobbly and weak, but before he can make it outside he halts and turns back to you. “So…” He lingers at the doorway, the bucket hanging from his closed fist. “...Where does your milk come from, exactly?”

Oh. That's…hard to explain. You had a sense that Mr. Harley already knew, but then again he owns farm animals, not hybrids. So you meekly point at your own chest in answer, and Harley's reaction takes you by complete surprise.

“...You're shitting me.” He breathes out in what comes off as disgust, but is really shamefaced embarrassment as he tries to avert his eyes but can't tear his gaze off of your…well, udders. It was obvious that they were impressive, but he clearly wasn't expecting such a blunt and simple answer. Harley clears his throat and tries to get something out, but sooner than he's able to he gives up and just wishes you a good sleep as he shuts the sliding door behind him.

The rest of that night is full of whimpers and soft cries throughout the shed as you weep out all your worries. Mr. Harley doesn't like me anymore! He thinks I'm gross! You sniffle into your tear-drenched pillow as the thoughts grow so loud in your head that they overwhelm you. In time, you cry yourself so dry that you can't help but drift off, your sleep peppered with bad memories and anxious nightmares of what Mr. Harley might do with you tomorrow, now that he's seen how worthless and disgusting you really are.

Though by now you're used to the rooster's screeching to wake you up, your morning is riddled with half-awake mumbles and drool caking your pillow as you try to remember what you were doing. It's not until you rub your eyes and look around that you notice the light filling the shed, and realize with a cold twist in your belly that it's almost midday and well past the time you should've been up and about. The sounds of Mr. Harley's boots in the barn next door rattle you out of your covers and up to your feet, your knees knocking and hands shaking as you try to figure out what to do.

Mr. Harley always comes by your shed to check on you after he's done with the animals, and by the whinnying of the horses as he sprays the hose you can tell he's just about finished up with filling their water trough. And if that's what he's up to now, that means you're next–and gods know what he's gonna do now that he doesn't think you're cute anymore! You're not sure now if he would kill you, or chop you up to sell your bits in some underground meat market, but he might give you back to the traders! You can't let that happen, you can't!

Little do you know that while you've bustled around your shed in a panic trying to figure out what to do, Harley has been pacing anxiously outside the barn doors before finally slamming them shut and heading towards you. Each step rings out like thunder. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump-

The door to your shed slides open, eliciting a startled shriek from your lips as you drop the bucket. It clatters to the ground and rolls to a stop just by Mr. Harley's boot. The two of you lock eyes and he utters a string of words that totally throw you for a loop.

“You had trouble getting your milk out yesterday, so I'm gonna help you.”

The air that hangs between you is heavy once he says that, pierced only by the gentle clinking of the bucket's thin wire handle as he reaches down and plucks it up off the hay-scattered ground. Harley rubs the back of his neck and clears his throat, his steps taken slow and quietly as he slides the door shut behind him and approaches your skittish self.

“You want me to help you?” His voice remains stoic and strong, but when you nod so meekly that your ears twitch his face burns a bright red all the way down to his collar. He coughs into his hand and asks you to move into a comfortable position while he stands awkwardly and prepares himself for what's about to come. You can barely make eyes with him in the meanwhile, every bit of you is trembling as you sink down to your knees.

Mr. Harley sets the bucket down beneath you. The soft, almost imperceptible thunk rings in your ears like a dinner bell. A thought flashes over your head and you wonder if you should get on your hands and knees–but the shame of such a position quickly overcomes whatever else would compel you to do so, and you sit quietly and patiently with your ears flicking nervously in rhythm with your tail. He gets down on one knee and mutters something in your ear to soothe you, but you can barely hear anything over your own breathing as you try to will your heart into slowing down from its fervent pace. When he asks you to pull down your top, however, you certainly hear that command loud and clear.

The moment the fabric swishes down your chest in one clean motion, Harley has a look of utter redness and embarrassment all over his face. He's a bit more composed than yesterday, but he can barely tear his eyes away from them; your udders. They're so soft and weigh so heavy on your torso, it's a surprise you can even lift them up yourself. That's what he thinks, anyways–you can't even comprehend his awe when you're so self-conscious over your nipples pebbling in the drafty air. Your fingernails scrape against each other in a nervous tic while you wait. He has to get prepared, and he warms his hands by rubbing them together; the very action of which sends heat straight to your nethers and a twitch to your soft, fuzzy ears.

“M-My milk doesn't taste good…” You whimper to distracted ears, but still, Mr. Harley holds his hands back from reaching out and he meets your eyes in contemplation. Your worries explode out of you before you can halt yourself. “B-But I'll–I'll try really hard to make it sweet, Mr. Harley!”

To your shock, he just shakes his head. He scoffs, but then–then it's a chuckle. It's laughter, low and gravelly, but it's laughter all the same.

“You taste good.” Mr. Harley murmurs, and his eyes don't look at all daunted. He doesn't correct himself, either. He leans closer, reaches out, and then the callused pads of his hardworking fingers are brushing under the tender skin of your breasts.

The moment is…saccharine. It's divine. It's godlike! You can't see, can't hear, can barely breathe, and you've never felt more exuberance bubbling up in the back of your throat–you want to scream and cry and beg but the emotions jumble themselves all together and leave you stunned silent. You can hardly let out the gentlest exhale of disbelieving breath as Mr. Harley's hands fold over your chest, and you feel a warmth you thought was only reserved for cows of a much better pedigree than you. The man that's bigger and stronger and sweeter than you shuffles in closer, he wants his lips right against your skin; he wants to taste you and touch you while he gives you a squeeze, and when his tongue flicks out to dab the sweat off your neck you could just cry, it feels so exhilarating.

“M-Mr. Harley-” You gulp, your tone betraying your enjoyment in how it trembles with desperate need. Harley's hands start pressing and pulling on each teat, and in no time at all he's coaxing the milk from you as easily as he would his own dairy cows. No mess, no fuss, and no tears–not ones devoid of joy, anyways. You can't help your own instincts in this moment of pure, primal hybrid heat. “I-I love you, Mr. Harley.”

His head raises and tilts down to look at you. He doesn't even have to look to make sure he's getting it all in the bucket, he's so experienced. Something seems to brew behind those dark, cocoa-coloured eyes…and his words stir up the heat within you like a potent, bubbling love potion.

“I'm so fuckin’ glad they got you mixed up.”

With that admission of very Harley-like affection, he buries his tongue in your mouth and presses your lips firmly together in a wet, forceful kiss.

A kiss! From Mr. Harley! Your tail flicks to and fro with happiness while you're melting into it, into the softness and the strength of his tongue and the sticky wetness of your spit mixing with his. You've never been kissed like this, and when he pulls back you just have to lean in for more. He can barely stifle his lustful chuckles when you keep pecking his lips like a touch-starved harpy, hoping for more tongue and spit and warmth. He squeezes your left teat especially firm and a thick jet of milk spurts out, leaving you to hunch forward suddenly as a wet spot starts forming in the seat of your poor panties. Harley's slanted nose is the only thing keeping you up; he nuzzles it under your chin when your body threatens to pitch forward into the hard ground.

“So close.” He murmurs into your mouth as he seals his lips over yours again. His hair is mussed and he's blushing…a lot. “Almost there. Such a good product today. Nearly filled the whole pail. Good girl.” He whispers against your cheek as you try not to feel the delicate rumbles of his voice in your cunt. With a swish of movement, Mr. Harley maneuvers around your trembling body to slot himself up behind you, and lets his hands reach around you just so his thick, muscly biceps will keep you upright through to the end.

“M-Mr. Harley…I think I'm…I-I dunno, I feel-ah! Ah, weird. G-Good weird..” What feels like a brick presses up against your rear in that moment–you have a feeling you know exactly what it is.

“Yeah?” He scoffs with a thrilled smirk against your neck. “Dirty fuckin’ dairy cow. That's what you are, huh?”

“Y-Yes-!” You squeal, but whether that's an answer to his question or simply the reaction he's caused by bucking against you with a groan, it remains to be seen. Either way Mr. Harley is enjoying himself, and it floods your bovine head with vindicated glee that your master enjoys you. You're doing a good job. You're a good cow.

“Good fuckin’ cow,” Harley growls, completely lost in the softness between your thighs and the sweet warmth of your tits weighing heavy and milk-swollen in his hands. Your legs shake against his thick thighs as he pulls you back to practically sit on his lap, held up by the monster straining at his pants, begging to be let out. You've already left a soiled, sticky spot there through your clothes but Harley won't take any apologies–not right now, at least, when your milk is flowing at its peak and he's just about to lose his self-control completely…if he even had any left from the moment he held your soft, chubby body in his hands. A splash of milk jets from your swollen tits and splatters against the side of the pail rather than inside it, and with that you don't need to see Mr. Harley's face to know that he's reaching his end; in fact, he's already there.

A string of “fuck, fuck, fuck!”s erupts from his mouth that he buries in the juncture of your neck and your shoulder, his teeth not only grazing now but biting down hard into your sweat-soaked skin. The spot you'd left on his jeans is nothing compared to the damp mess he makes as his thighs shake beneath yours, his hips ruthless and powerful as he slams them up into you with the desire of chasing that invaluable heat between your legs. You've barely held back from spasming in pleasure this whole time, but once Mr. Harley has his needs sated is when you finally allow yourself to give in to yours. Groans, panting, and soft mooing resonate within the homey little room that you've incidentally turned into a den of pleasure. Mr. Harley finally slumps back with his arms tucked tightly around your middle, and a wobbly, satisfied smile makes its way across your face as you look down and see a pail full of warm, creamy-looking milk. A few spots and tiny puddles litter the hay-covered ground around it from where you spilled, and some still soaks Harley's massive hands, but you still managed to fill it–a whole bucket!

“I did…a good job, Mr. Harley?” You ask in such a sweet, timid voice that he can only manage a breathless scoff in response.

“You think you did a good job?” He asks, but not understanding his tone, you start to fuss and squirm in fear that you've disappointed him. It's only once he manages to wrangle you against his chest and pick you up off your feet with him that he manages to calm you down.

“Relax, little one. You did a good job.” Careful not to let you lose balance, he sets you down on your feet and holds you there, steadying you against his effortlessly strong body. The moment you look up at him with those sweet, wet cow eyes, he can't resist his affections and lovingly strokes your ears. “Very good. You're a good cow. Look at all the milk you made,” He reaches past you to pick up the pail and hold it out for you to see. The glistening milk swishes with the heft of the bucket, so he steps away and ensures he sets it aside amongst the empty ones to keep it from spilling over.

“So…c-can I stay, Mr. Harley?”

It seems your voice does more than earn you an answer from him–Harley whips around to look at you with a dumbfounded expression on his face, and his reaction is more than you ever could have thought you deserved.

“Stay? What d'ya mean, ‘stay’? You're part of the farm. You're my family now. You're not going anywhere.” He reaches out for you and in that moment it takes for him to get to you, the tears are already flowing and you're blubbering pathetically into his chest with gratitude, which he seems much less awkward in accepting now.

“Hey–quit sayin’ such stupid shit. Stay…are you crazy?” He murmurs into your hair, his arms so tight around you you're reminded of the soreness of your hollow chest as your tits press up against his firm body. What he whispers to you then, in the silence peppered only by your weepy cries of adoration and love for your ‘Mr. Harley’, is the one thing that will stay with you for a long, long time–perhaps for the rest of your life.

“Not just cattle anymore, little one. You're…mine.”

#harley kunuk #harley x reader #harley kunuk x reader #spicy writing #hybrid reader #yandere ocs #yanverse #fem reader #male yandere #ellie writes #4k

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alice-after-dark · 2 days

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Late Night with the Radio Demon - Dance with Me

@hiemaldesirae *finds out you're sick and throws this at your face*

Alastor teaches Vincent how to dance. Vox remembers.

Dammit this is supposed to be a dark au and here I am churning out the RadioStatic fluff lol (with a little bit of angst for the fun of it)

Hope you enjoy :P

"If I'm the one supposed to be learning, shouldn't I be leading?"

"How do you ever expect to learn if you don't have a good example, darling?"

The Radio Demon had shown up in his apartment unannounced again and this time insisted on teaching the TV host how to dance properly.

"You want me to aid you in your career, yes?" the demon had said. "Well, every proper showman knows how to dance."

And that was how they had ended up in the middle of Vincent's living room with all the furniture pushed back against the walls and soft jazz playing curtesy of the demon's cane hovering around them.

Vincent swallowed hard. He'd never been this close to the demon before. Sure, they'd touched when they'd made their deal (and the deer had decided kissing his hand was entirely appropriate), but for the most part they made little contact. Now, he wasn't sure it was possible for them to get any closer. The Radio Demon’s hand rested nonchalantly on the TV host's waist, pulling him right up against him as he gripped his hand. Vincent's own free hand clutched awkwardly at the fabric covering the demon’s shoulder.

"My goodness, don't look so troubled, darling! It's just a dance! I'm sure you'll be fine!"

The steps were easy enough to follow. The Radio Demon really was a surprisingly good teacher, even if he did like to kick it up a notch every now and then just to show off. But by the end of the night, Vincent was following along easily enough, even daring to throw in his own little moves.

"Well done!" the demon laughed when Vincent read his next move and leaned into the dip. An applause played from the microphone and Vincent felt his face color. "See? I told you you would be fine!"

---

"Don't look so troubled, darling! It's just a dance! I'm sure you'll be fine!"

The words left his mouth before he could stop them, but the look on Vox's face told him everything he needed to know. Alastor kept his hand extended. "Is everything alright, Vox?"

The TV headed demon shook himself. "Uh, yeah, sorry. Just some weird ass Deja Vu." He swallowed and placed his hand in Alastor's, letting the deer pull him out onto the bar's dance floor. Vox didn't question him when he took the lead, following easily through each move. Still, he looked distant.

"You know, you're doing quite well for someone not paying attention. "

Vox fumbled his footing, earning a giggle from Alastor. "S-sorry. It's just been a while since I danced like this with someone, I guess. I'm feeling a little nostalgic."

Alastor really shouldn't. He shouldn't. He knows he shouldn't.

"And where did you get you fine skills?"

Vox faltered again. "I...there was...this guy..." Alastor's ears perked up. "This is gonna sound stupid, but I can't really...remember who he was or how we got from Point A to Point B, but he taught me how to dance in the middle of my living room. He definitely knew what he was doing. I probably looked like a fool." Vox tried to laugh off the awkwardness, squeaking when the other demon dipped him.

Alastor's smile was gentle. Stained but gentle.

"I'm sure you were magnificent, darling."

#late night with the radio demon au #hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #radiostatic #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel vox #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel au

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rius-cave · 4 hours

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Okay imagine a Sinner!Adam having trouble sleeping 'cause of the whole trauma of being reborn as a sinner or whatever reason (or Niffty jumpscares him lol) and a little depressed blonde guy who suffers from insomnia and has no one to cuddle at night since his wife left him. Now combine the two. They somehow end up sleeping together one night. Nobody talks about it after that, but both of them misses the other's presence at night. They either never talk about it or one of them randomly shows up at the other's door at night with some stupid excuse and it becomes frequent.

SCREAMS BITES KICKS AND SCREAMS

ANON YOU GOT ME FERAL. YES. YES YES YES YES

OKAY BUT wouldn't it be fucked up if Adam had like, actual PTSD from the exterminations? or even just from his life? Dude acts like he likes it, and I mean he probably does, but what if his subconscious actually internalizes it as trauma? He probably doesn't even know. He has nightmares most nights, but lol those are normal right? right??

So he's just out in the lobby, or on the balcony, or on the roof of the hotel, and a depressed short demon finds him there. They start off insulting each other, obviously, they can't stand each other. They make short remarks and underhanded threats, but neither of them budgets, because both of them are prideful as fuck.

So they don't have anything to do but... talk, and also not talk, they stare at the red sky of the pride ring and exchange a few words, some of them are hostile, but some of them not so much.

Eventually they get tired of fighting but they still won't actually get up and leave. They just sit there, and begin talking a little bit about every day stuff, a little bit about heaven, hell, even about Eden. Some things get cleared up, but there's still a lot of hurt from both sides. Centuries of anger don't go away just like that. But it's... interesting, to finally be able to talk without biting each other's heads off.

Eventually their eyelids become heavy, and neither of them remember the last thing they said. They simply wake up in a cold floor, with the other dangerously close to what you could call "cuddling" (the word alone makes bile rise in Adam's throat).

They spat some more insults at each other with renewed energies, make a big rockus, and then storm off to their respective rooms. That had been SO EMBARRASSING. We HAVE to pretend like none of that happened, ever, nothing of it. It wasn't nice, and it wasn't relaxing, and that hadn't been one of the first nights in forever that Adam remembered sleeping well and sound. Nope.

He keeps telling himself over and over again that he doesn't expect Lucifer to be there when he's sat there at the same place, same time the following night.

It definitely doesn't keep happening over and over again.

And of course neither of them find an excuse to show up at the other's bedroom one night and have their nightly chat in the comfort of a bedroom this time, to actually be able to fall asleep on a comfy bed.

#the adamsapple ghost possessed me again sorry #hazbin hotel #adamsapple #loved this idea anon *chef kiss* thats beautiful #if i didn't have any self control I'd file this idea for a comic later #ask #fav

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buckysgrace · 1 day

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Steve Harrington Headcanons

These are just what I picture, nothing written in stone <3

Was a surprise baby. I think his parents were both near or at their thirties when he was born? His mom really struggled with getting pregnant so he was her one and only <3

Looks just like his dad but has his mama's big brown eyes. She would pinch his little cheeks and call him her little Booboo.

Very colicky and whiny baby. Only ever wanted to be held. I also think he was born a little early, just a smidge delayed when it came to meeting his milestones

Definitely was a mama's boy when he was little. They sort of drifted apart when she put more attention towards his dad to sort out their marriage issues.

His dad has a bad tendency of sleeping around. I could definitely see Steve having some secret siblings that he doesn't ever know about.

He was an ornery kid, full of energy and was unable to stay still. He also played a lot of sports, so his parents weren't bothered by him

His dad absolutely locked their bedroom door and kept Steve's far apart so he couldn't crawl into bed with them.

Was spanked a lot as a little kid because he couldn't sit still. The wooden spoon was his dad's weapon of choice.

Officially got a nanny/babysitter when his father forgot to pick him up hours after baseball practice ended. Finally ended up walking home but got in trouble for that as well

Really struggled with reading, well mainly all through his school career. His letters just tend to get mixed up.

Struggles with organization. If he's writing a paper, he needs to jot down his thoughts before he forgets them. Thus why some parts don't fit into the right spot.

I think teachers were sort of assholes to him?? He was definitely a goofy/class clown type so I think when he was actually struggling in school they thought he was just trying to be funny

Okay listen... he was absolutely a shit in school. He was rich, in good health and handsome. He was playing up to the hierarchy shit. For sure had a coming to Jesus moment later but yeah he was an ass

Although I do think he was usually all talk, no bite. Probably did his fair share of shoving or tripping to be funny. The few altercations that turned physical were usually solved by his former muscle, Tommy.

Oh Tommy. Best friends since they were in preschool. Both of them were always assigned into the same learning groups. Tommy also struggled a lot with his reading so they meshed really well together.

Sticks his tongue out if he's concentrating hard on his school work. Tommy has yanked on it more than once.

He counts with his fingers!!! Ask him what 8 + 2 is and he has to count on his fingers just to be sure.

Teachers dreaded getting them in class lol. Purposely worked out their schedules so they were nearly identical.

You could move Steve but he was still going to find whomever was near him to speak to/be loud with.

I feel like Tommy had specific genre of movies that he enjoyed, which was 100% monster movies. They watched a ton of old Godzilla movies (although Steve will never, ever admit to it)

Rip if you were on the opposite team and they were playing dodgeball. They showed no mercy during dodgeball.

His dad probably doesn't think Steve will amount to much. I think his dad is really smart as is his mom so Steve doesn't quite fit in with his struggles??

Will ramble for hours about something he is interested in (also speaks with his hands a lot). Be prepared tho he jumps from point A to D back to B and it's just all over the place

Really good at bowling and will brag about it

Very judgmental but he's trying to work on it

I think he can sober up fairly quickly?? Gets all flushed when he drinks tho. Will suggest karaoke.

When he smokes weed he's so giggly. Squinting eyes and a dopey smile the whole time. Thinks everything is hilarious. Do not leave food around him, he will hog it and eat it all

Questions everything during movies. Will barely get through 5 minutes in a movie before he has to ask about something.

You need your back cracked? Steve is your guy. He will twist you into a pretzel to get that spot that's bothering you tho

Terrible at gambling. Does not have a poker face. Also a pretty shitty liar.

Likes raisins. Also loves prunes. And eggs. Grape juice is his favorite. Well, grape flavored anything is his favorite.

If it's 3 am and he's hungry he is chowing down on a slice of bread and a block of cheese.

Prefers goat milk over cow milk

Has terrible allergies. Speaking of, if he's sick? the biggest baby. He cannot take of himself. Probably because he had to do it for so long as a child.

Fuck ankle socks. Fuck them. He will burn them on fire.

Master s'more maker

Took cooking classes on the down low. Fairly good now that he's done so

Anything that his partner likes he will definitely begin to like

Falls asleep on his tummy a lot. He also drools but gets embarrassed if you point that out

Stopped shaving once he was no longer on the swimming team. Won't admit it but does enjoy it if you run your fingers through his chest hair.

He always has long conversations with you before he falls asleep. His eyes are usually closed and he's on the brink of passing out, but he likes listening to you speak.

Hated reading for the longest time. Finally gets into it for real later in life when he realizes he's only punishing himself by thinking of the past.

A love letter boy. He does have a dictionary on standby to triple check that he has spelt everything correctly. Loves to talk on the phone too. If you're calling him you best be setting aside at least two hours because he will be updating you on every little thing.

Terrible at drawing. He could not draw a stick figure to save his life.

Was forced into music lessons as a kid. He is really good playing the piano. Also knows how to play the violin. Does sing in the shower (and is good at it)

Wants a big family because he doesn't want his kids to feel lonely like he was. He is much better in handling kids when they're a little more grown, rather than itty bitty.

More of a dog person but that's because he swears up and down there was a stray cat with one eye that would sit outside his window and stare at him at night.

#Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington headcanon #Headcanons #my headcanons #Steve Harrington x reader #he's just a cool little guy #might change this once i feel like i know him just a bit better #Steve Harrington x you

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fvckwluv · 2 days

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how has writing been going ? any spencer snippets you are willing my lord🙌🏻👑

hello!! lol. writing has been so fun!! i'm always writing honestly, but never fiction so much anymore. so being inspired by all the other spencer writers has been so fun! it's a really silly and easy way to stretch out that muscle.

it doesss take me time to write lol. i am a notorious over writer. i try my best to cut stuff down, but that's just truly not how i operate.

plus i have been superrrrrr busy lately lol. so im sorry to everyone i've been holding out on!

i do have two spencer requests im currently working on:

spencer spending the night for the first time

spencer asking reader to move in

those are a bittttt harder for me, just 'cause i'm not super used to writing things where the relationship is pre-existing. my fave fics to read and write are confessions/build up hahaha. but i still do very much love these, just not the best at it! so ill probably keep those shorter.

as well as one of my own ideas that is gonna be longerrrr one:

smosh is going to florida for playlist live and the company is booking everyone's flights. after they all deny your pleads to do a road trip instead, you confess to everyone your fear of flying. so spencer makes a pact to help you out and be your travel partner.

here is a snippet from that one! (i've literally never been on an airplane so if this doesn't make sense i am asking you to suspend your disbelief for a second, thank you!)

Your brave facade immediately crumbled. A panic set through you and you felt your face go numb. Not only were you now being forced to face your fear of flying for the very first time- you'd have to do it all alone.

"How is that possible? All of our tickets were booked together." You usually were overly nice to any employee at any place you went, but it was clear your terror was coming out as irritation.

"I understand. Unfortunately there's nothing I can do. But I can get you a seat on the next flight in six hours."

Spencer noticed the color leave your face and your eyes wander off into a world far from this one. He was taken aback. He'd never seen you like this. Your usual upbeat persona was all he'd ever known. Seeing you so scared sent a twinge through his chest.

"Can they just take my ticket?" He was speaking to the woman at the desk, but his eyes were still locked on a, miles-away-from-here, you.

"I'm sorry, but that's not how it works."

Spencer noticed your breathing get heavier and faster, tears were forming in your eyes. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes were darting rapidly all over you. Spencer felt an insurmountable urge from his gut to do whatever he could in that moment to help you.

"Well, what if..." He looked back to the woman. "What if you move me on that flight too?"

He noticed that snapped you back into reality.

"Well, it looks like there is another seat available, but I wouldn't be able to just move you on that flight. You'd have to purchase a whole new ticket."

"That's fine. Go ahead and book it." Spencer responds without hesitation, immediately reaching for his wallet.

"Spence." You place a hand over his card. "No, don't do that."

He looks over at you with a seriousness in his eyes you haven't seen from him before. "You can't be alone, y/n."

You knew he was right. You knew he could feel your hand tremble over his. But him going through all that trouble and paying hundreds of dollars made you feel so guilty.

You couldn't even respond. You were just looking up at him, with wide eyes. Usually, he loves looking into them, but in this moment- his heart ached. Your tears. Your concerned brows. Your trembling lips. He could see your guilt and your fear. He couldn't take it.

"Y/n." He tilted his head at you with a pleading, sympathetic look. "Just let me look after you. For my own sake. Please?"

Suddenly, a warmth ran through your cold nerves. And you were finally able to let out a breath you've been holding. You took your hand away from his.

"Thank you." Your voice cracked.

"I'm doing this for myself," Spencer attempted to lighten the mood. "I don't wanna lose my seat buddy. Who knows what rando they'd sit me next to?"

He was able to pull a weak smile out of you.

That wasn't enough.

"Seriously." He leaned over to whisper in your ear. "There's no one else I'd rather be with right now, okay?"

#spencer agnew x reader #smosh rpf #spencer agnew fanfiction #smoshblr #spencer agnew

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katyspersonal · 3 months

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I know we don't talk and there's stuff we may not agree with. But I am truly sorry you've dealt with a lot of drama over fictional crap. And I'm sorry if my posts in the past ever contributed to that. Hope you have a better day.

Hey... That's all fine, don't worry! After all, it takes a lot of time and Insight to realise that Gehrman is a very gentle and respectful man and Godrick is an absolute gigachad kdkdkshdffhhgfds /lh /lh

But yeah, on a serious note. It was quite frustrating to find out the real motivation under all that... mess was something so pathetic, but at the same time this is what happens when people make engagement with media and fandoms a moral, political act. Not necessarily a problem, after all, I was the one who concluded that the way a fan judges fictional characters and other fans will very well reveal how cruel they are to real people who do something bad, or how much they will forgive based on personal sympathies. And my mad ravings about caring about female characters! I think the problem comes when a fan is so insecure that they have nothing else besides this defence of ideals through fandomry. If your only way to assert yourself is to be a good guy punishing the bad guys, and that mad raving loredigger discovers there is NO bad guy, what is left of you?

This is why it is crucial to have passion for nurturing rather than for undermining! I think if you speak like this, you've found this truth too? This is true that I don't know you very much (mutual-in-law thing), but to be honest.. you didn't poison my fandom experience at all? I tend to never be aware about discourse until someone basically calls me for help fhdhgsdgdfs Can't scout the fandom tag regularly!

But not only it actually was a quite long ago I saw a "negative" post from you, but also I've seen through the posts that my friends liked or reblogged from you that you've actually became very eager person to defend people's passion and interests! I think the post that particularly got stuck with me was when you resented seeing someone's light die after some Redditor asshole "well aktualy"'d a thing they were excited about creating (not exact wording but maybe you remember too)? Like... you are fine, man. At that point I realised that you were a good fan and in the end valued people's creativity and passion over personal preferences. That you never wanted to be THAT guy, even if your interpretation could not be further from someone else's. Coming to terms with what actually matters in fandomry is very mature and I am happy to see this attitude!

I am still glad that you messaged me about this though; I did not expect this, but thank you! I think I will continue getting involved in fictional discourse because my autistic senses cannot ignore factually incorrect takes with a clear insidious motive, and.. eh, sooner or later, I'll piss off the wrong guy again. Don't feel bad for me when it inevitably happens :p I've accepted the shortcomings when I decided to be the debate guy. Simply laughing at some gremlin starting a discourse with the girls in DMs and not stressing over it is only funny until I realise that newer fans could get misinformed right off the bat.

#ask replies #fandomry rambles #sorry this is probably a bit too long and emotional #this topic just makes me remember a lot of stuff.. it is not you! like I mean it my impression has been positive for a while now #I could already sense that you've changed your stance on things before this message and I respect this a lot!#I am just thinking about..... stuff #how there was an actually strongly furious gehrman hater who finally matured and became chill after two years of terrorizing fandom #and I even wrote them a DM saying how much I respected the change.. only to lose them forever a couple of weeks later because of timing LOL #or story of the guy that got driven away from the fandom with fake accusations and slander because he criticised maria when her toxic fans-#-back then were not pretending to 'recognise her flaws too'#or people talking to me how they stopped feeling safe posting in fandom over that crap #like... you did not really hurt me. I knew you had strong opinions but I've noticed more and more based posts on the fandomry topic #there are just many things that make whole fandom situation sad. I am happy to be the part of what helped BB fandom a bit #but I've heard some shit going on in ER fandom and like... yeah I am bound to get into trouble again because I can't sit back and meme #just don't feel bad for me when I end up with another arch enemy because of my autism about lore fhshdffsd

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