#duerme07

on [ban] @frostplays said: which god

yknow, good question. honestly it should’ve been pluralized for the parallel structure.

on [ban] @kitkat-cantdraw said: They did say it was "All you can eat" so hes not in the wrong, they just didn't satisfy his hunger and he decided to devour them. nowhere NEAR his  fault

you’re so right. he has done nothing wrong.

on [unstoppable] @jupiterlandings said: life with symptoms disease

boy it sure is

on [unstoppable] @ceylonsilvergirl [added] a photo of a man that certainly looks like a chemist with the caption “You’re welcome Kirby” which is very funny

on [baseball] @jetf0rcegemini said: kirby LOVE baseball kirby love SEATTLE MARINERS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!

@duerme07 said: oh sht he's a local boy? gotta respect another 12th man

yeah!!! my family lived about 4 hours away from sodo growing up and we would drive all the way there, watch a game, and then drive all the way home so we didn’t need money for a hotel room XD I haven’t been well enough to go in many years, but maybe someday.

on [baseball] @dogboysits2 said: this is actually what george kirby looks like i saw him pitch

honestly it’s incredible he can even get anything into the strike zone being a quarter of the height of any other player

on [plants] @ceylonsilvergirl said: y’ever get brand new plants and you’re so excited that you just have to name them? I had a parsley plant named Krandal once. it died from mites, but he was a beauty

I don’t really name stuff often tbh (I even have a bunch of stuffed animals without names, I feel a little bad for them but I don’t want to just give them a name arbitrarily!) but he sounds like a lovely parsley plant. plants are good.

@theboxonpiecksback asked: Hi!!! I really love your drawings! They give me daily motivation and I love finiding them in my For You page every day! -From The Box

He likes to go deep, but he doesn’t like positions where his head is far from her body. He wants to be close enough to mouth or kiss some part of her, and to be able to murmur his flirtations and observations right onto her skin. It can be her shoulder if he’s big spoon or giving it to her from behind, or her ankle if he’s got her trussed up on a bed. This is a bit of a struggle for him because of course his medically-minded self and his hawkish eyes want to watch her, but no matter how much (loving) filth comes out of his mouth—and he’ll dirty talk her for sure, if she shows the slightest inclination!— he is really a bit shy, still, and wants to be able to play it off as her maybe mishearing if he says something really openly loving. She, of course, knows better. 😌 Their sex is very physically close and engaged.

Definitely into creative furniture and pillow arranging that can allow him to get in as far as he can go but keep them comfortably close. Lots of propping her up on the bed, or soft places for her to stand if they’re bending over the arm of a chair. Not beyond pillows on a chair to get her at the right height, or beneath his feet, either. He puts in the work for this and likes the puzzle of it!

In the buff:

on [flap] @macro-microcosm​ said: HAPPY KIRBY FLAP HAPPY KIRBY FLAP HAPPY KIRBY FLAP- so glad I'm not the only one who thinks he does this. and I relate, things aren't great but at least there are cute things to be a comfort

he is my little projection orb, therefore he must flail his little nubs around in excitement as I do. (also I hope things have improved for you, I’ve still got another 2 1/2 weeks to wait but hopefully the news will be good -n- )

this is how the phone case turned out btw! it’s by CandyDulceDeco on [etsy] or at candydulcedeco.com, they were very patient with working out all the little details and everything :> (that little post in the top corner is for a little loop to put phone charms on, I repurposed a bracelet with rainbow gummy bears as a little phone strap sometime after taking this photo)

on [meds] @plushslug​ said: I have MCAS too. Sucks hard. Keep fighting the good fight out there and may your symptoms be manageable 🫡

same to you *salute emoji I can’t find rn* (love your icon btw)

on [milk] @graycoin​ said: Ah shit, that sounds rough. You can Get Through It, but I am sorry you gotta. :/

thanks, I appreciate both the vote of confidence and the sympathy -n- (and in your other comment as well. thank you in general to the folks leaving supportive comments even though I don’t post them all, I really do appreciate it.)

I also appreciate everyone who rushed to give baby his choccy milk or demanded he get it, with special mention to @justawanderingfan​ who went so far as to [add] the glass (and the resulting smile) themself :)

on [keyblade] @angeryspeedo​ said: look at him. he is just a little guy...

every time someone tags my kirb as “just a little guy” or “a bean” or something like this I become more powerful :) (I even made a post on my personal blog when I first saw this tag that it means I Win At Art. there are many ways to win at art and I win often. drawing something that makes me laugh, drawing something my wife thinks is pretty, drawing something, drawing something that makes a stranger add a funny tag, etc. these are all Art Victories of equal value. I think this is a good way to think of creative hobbies.)

also on [keyblade] @joekingv1 said: *wonders who was baby's favorite character*

I think of the playable characters in birth by sleep, ventus would be their favorite. (both because kirby probably relates to him most and because his combat is most amenable to just mashing regular attack and dodge the whole time (which is mostly what I did lol)) out of all of kingdom hearts I do think they’d vibe with sora. my dirtboys.

on [crochet] @duerme07​ said: this -feels- crochet in a way that few other images have conveyed

thanks! it’s because I hate making small gauge amigurumi and have bad eyesight so this is exactly what I looked like for approximately 3 hours immediately following this drawing :)

on [blanket] @ceylonsilvergirl​ said: life has its ups and downs, is never just one or the other. stick it out through the difficult times And I will find comfy blanket time again

comfy blanket time can be anytime. even or especially during the hard times. (I hope you’ve got a break coming down the line too.)

on [valentimes] @wishiwould​ said: I sent this to all my family and sent the creator money on ko-fi bc delightful

extremely sweet of you, thank you so much! I always love finding valentines like this to send to my wife so I’m so glad I could make something similar for someone else lol (yes I did send this drawing to my wife and my partner for valentines day :v )

on [vacant] @sagessmoke​ said: he's a static image right, when i scrolled onto him he blinked and i need to know if im okay

yep, he’s a static image. when you’re seeing stuff directly from me, I always tag any moving image with “gif” even if it’s a small amount of animation. (my eyes play tricks on me sometimes too.)

anonymous asked: Do you like META KNIGHTTTT METAKNIGHHHHHYYYTTT

His hands are full of her bottom, and her hands are full of him: a palm splayed out over his chest, the other curled so perfectly around where he has ached for her for as long as he can remember. She herself is curled around his back and their bodies have made summer mugginess between them-- sticky, sultry. Hot as her mouth, open on the join of his neck and shoulder. Her kisses are messy and enthusiastic and if she had not asked him to stay right there, he would turn and kiss her, hold her, immediately.

But she did ask him to stay right there, so Sogo will stay until he truly can’t. He’ll hold her as he can, he will grip and appreciate her beautiful curves in his hands, grateful to finally touch at all. She feels better than dreams ever dared suggest.

Her touch isn’t practiced, but the sureness of her love is in every stroke and he’s letting all the gasps she pulls out of him free into the air. He knows no more of this intimacy than what was required, and just underneath the sensation her work-roughened fingers dragging up and down his length, he remembers every time he evaded a mission that called for true seduction, and the true reason why.

He wanted it to be with her.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmurs, and just as her words bound him, they now free him. He lets go of her and gently but immediately pulls her hands from him and leaves her arms. Only so he can turn and go back to her. Only ever so he can go back to her. He takes her hands from where they wait in the air and cups them around his face. He wants her to touch him everywhere, like this. He holds her cheeks just the same, mirroring her touch as he puts their mouths together.

They kiss forever, the states must be unified by the time they are done. They breathe into one another, moan and whimper into one another, and they undulate their bodies toward one another like the wave pattern on his favorite kimono. Like meeting tides, they crest together, recede, reunite. He can nearly smell the primal salt of the ocean.

With one important exception, he feels soft against her. “Hana,” he pants into her mouth. “Please.”

She keeps one hand cradling his face, but the other traces down his body-- loving his nipple and navel on the way with light, curious flicks-- and takes hold of him again. He’s not ashamed to cry into her mouth at the feeling.

“Ka-- Sogo,” she begs. “Me, too.”

He will never make her beg if he can help it. It is his honor to mirror her again, thumbing the sacred heft of a nipple and the dip in her adorable tummy before he sightlessly finds her hair, then her heat. Cups it like the treasure it is. Hotter and wetter than her mouth, and the very thought makes him kiss her again, lick into her mouth like he can replicate what he is touching.

She calls him both names, and each time he hums agreement against her lips and tangles their bodies together what infinitesimal more he can manage. His only name for her is Hana and when he says it, the word is prayer and thanks both. She is so slick over his fingers, so powerful as her hips tuck themselves toward his hand. When he curls two blessed fingers inside her she makes a bird’s beautiful, startled song and shakes in place, and he kisses the side of her mouth, her jaw, and asks in a whisper just at her ear if it is okay.

“Yes,” she sobs. He will never make her do that, either. Not in any way but this, not for anything but joy. Her hand is slack around his leaking cock and even aimless, it feels like holy wisteria, like a soft cage of shide that he would be lucky to make his home. She doesn’t even have to move. All he needs is for her to be, and let him love her at last.

There’s a tide inside her, too, a pulsing and relaxing, and when he realizes she is doing it on purpose he feels his cheek inside her hand and the way it hurts from his own gladness.

“I love you,” he whispers fiercely. “I have loved you for such a long time.” His need for this to be understood has him switching fingers so he can use his thumb to roll her like a bead, and he’s torn in a frantic way between letting up so she can talk-- she’s trying, she’s trying so hard, he wants to kiss her again-- or do his best to nurture that magnificent keen in her throat, the one that trips over notes but always sounds beautiful to his ears.

She manages to gasp out that she loves him, and her slack hand suddenly squeezes and he gasps, too.

He doesn’t know what to do. Stay and spill all over her hand? Hold her close and grind against the impossible taut softness of her rear? Of course he wants to be inside her, but a part of him wants to linger in this lovespace before he dares.

“Sogo,” she pleads. “More. Inside, please, please. All of you.”

It may put their lives in danger, but he doesn’t think he can deny her anything anymore. He doesn’t think he would live if he tried. He hates to slip his fingers out of her body, but she has asked for something else that he can give, so what he needs to do is give it to her. He puts the sticky hand on her hip instead and pushes her onto her back. One of his knees finds the futon in the space between her legs, then the other. It feels like home and it feels like a festival. Known and new.

She has one of her hands clutching at a breast, and the other is reaching for his cock again. He hisses when she finds it and he goes where she pulls. He will follow her anywhere. The futon by her shoulders is in his hands now and he doesn’t have to worry about bruising it, so he squeezes with the ferocity he doesn’t want to unleash on her body. His words are made a jumble in his mouth by overwhelming arousal but they are important, so he keeps going when they fail the first time. “Sweetheart,” he says. She is dragging his cockhead through her folds, holding it against her clit as she moves herself against it. Her determination makes his eyes roll back, but he can feel the way her hand trembles. So he asks “Are you sure?”

She drags him down again and pulls him closer. He is just about to stop her when she says “I’ve been sure for such a long time.”

He reaches for her hand and takes it away, lacing their fingers by her head. He touches the tips of their noses together and slowly, carefully begins to push down with his hips, trusting where she placed him. He’s right to do so. There’s a moment right away when he has to stop because the warmth and pressure and slickness make him dizzy, but he doesn’t want to break their eye contact for anything in the world. It’s important to him that they be connected in this way.

“Kaede,” she says, and he sees when she flinches just a little, as though she’s made a mistake. He’ll have to remind her that he doesn’t mind it at all. She can call him anything, and he knows she loves Kaede.

“I’m right here,” he says softly. “Yours.”

She squeezes the hand that holds hers, and puts the other around his shoulders. “I love you,” she says. Her legs shift, feet sliding up the bedding to widen his space.

The words are not enough, but he tells her he loves her as he presses just a little more, then a little more after that. He pulls back, feels her shuddering and the way it shakes him all the way down to his own toes, and then presses forward again.There is a terrible desperation to look, to watch, the thought makes him throb so hard he feels her body stop him. But the most important thing in the world right now is her, and he wants to see her face, wants to keep her eyes.

They blink and that is the only break in the way they watch each other until he is as far as he can go inside her body. She squeezes his hand one more time and gives him a little smile.

“It’s perfect,” she whispers.

“You’re perfect,” he says, and the joy he feels will make him cry if he doesn’t vent it out of his body. Some of it escapes as a wet laugh.

It pulls the rest with it despite his effort. He’s crying, and she is, too, and they are holding one another, squeezing and testing the ways their hips can move together as they gasp and kiss. She gets her legs over his calves and they are wound together like a cord made of fulfillment, tight and tender, overwhelmed and in love.

He can’t describe much more than that. There’s heat and joy, a sense of falling without fear, and all the while her hand in his where he has wanted it to be since the very first time he saw her eyes. He knows from the way she grips the back of his neck and grinds against him grinding on the top of her sex that she is about to come, and when she does he presses as deep as he can and holds still. There is a frantic fluttering along his length that he thinks must be life itself, and he thinks he can see it in the pulse of her throat, too.

She encourages him to keep going, and at first he is slow but the magnificent, comfortable drag of her is too much. He speeds up and then pulls out. Her hand is on him immediately, and he covers it with his to move as he needs until he splatters on her belly with a choked cry of bliss and disbelief.

Instantly they are all wrapped up with one another again, the mess little different than the sweat between their bodies before they started. They kiss each other’s eyelids and cheeks and trade hushed praises. He can’t stop squeezing her close, he wants to press himself against her and keep her safe always.