#I personally feel Pan fits him more but still I enjoy this

[ravenwitch45]

I was messing around editing the contrast on some Chaz screenshots and accidentally turned the wall behind him into a giant bi flag

I mean... that works I guess. XP

[seaslugfanclub]

Hi! I really love The (Y/N)’s Pamphlet fic you wrote, especially Hook's reaction to (Y/N) having a crush, and I was curious about how Hook might have developed feelings for them? (And if the other villains felt the same way as Hook but are better at hiding it? 👀)

Love this question!!! Hook and (Y/N)’s relationship is something I’ll definitely elaborate more on when I write about how they met, but for now I’ll give you the general outline! Enjoy ❤️

🪝Hooked on a Feeling🪝

(Y/N)s first interaction with Hook was when they saw Peter Pan messing with the ex-pirate

Like Pan was REALLY causing Hook to throw a fit

(Y/N) tricked Peter into leaving the scene, allowing them to take Hook to the side and help calm him down. They gave him their water bottle to cool off and took him away from all the prying eyes of the guests

From then on (Y/N) has always been Hooks biggest supporter, next to Smee of course

In the beginning, Hook was still wary of (Y/N)’s intentions, not used to having someone who genuinely sided with him

But it’s the little things that made him realize his feelings for (Y/N)

When the pain of his amputation starts to flare up, (Y/N) will get him an ice pack and/or some painkillers

(Y/N) makes sure that no park goers pull or touch his hook

That one time some brat pushed (Y/N) into a fountain and shook got a full view of them in a wet T-shirt

Hook and (Y/N) have dinner together every Tuesday, Hook loves the praise and (Y/N) loves the free food

Hooks crush on (Y/N) really became known when Medusas alligators broke free from their enclosure and began chasing Hook

To panicked to notice, Hook leapt into (Y/N) arms, screeching for them to save him

(Y/N), holding the grown ass man in their arms, kicked Brutus in the snout and kept ahold of him until Medusa was able to get control of her pets

Hook realized where he was, and when he looked up at (Y/N)s worried face…..

Yeah that did it, the man was ‘hooked’

From then on Hook was more open to his flirting, despite the ridicule from his fellow villains. He just brushes it off as them being jealous (he’s totally right)

Even though he has a crush on (Y/N), it’s not the healthiest

He needs CONSTANT validation from them, Hook isn’t the most secure scallywag

May or may not have stolen some personal items from (Y/N)’s locker, but what do you expect from a pirate?

But most of the time Hook is the perfect gentleman, (Y/N) prefers to hang with him when the other villains get too raunchy

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Considering the canon kwami’s personalities, the way the full ML story ended up panning out, and the following proposed powers, do you think that having Tikki and Xuppu as Order and Chaos for the yin-yang duo assigned to Marinette and Adrien respectively would’ve been better than having the canon setup of Tikki and Plagg as Creation and Destruction? Why or why not?

I like the Order and Chaos idea! Chaos would be a much better fit for Xuppu's ability and Tikki's personality feels like it could fit Order possibly even more than it fits Creation. I also like how this maintains the contrasting personalities for the Kwamis as I think that's a key element of Plagg and Tikki's dynamic so you'd want something similar if you replaced Plagg.

However, I don't think that Order is a great fit for Marinette because, mask or no mask, her power is creativity. Creation isn't exactly a synonym for Order. They're two very different things. Creation can be - and often is - chaotic! This would mean that Tikki's power set would need to be reworked as Lucky Charm would feel even more out of place than it already does with the whole "Creation isn't Luck" thing. The restoration power could possibly still work for Order, but that power isn't why Marinette is the best ladybug. Anyone can cast the cure and it's only important so the fights have no real consequences like death or property destruction. Lucky Charm is the important part for the actual fights. I'm not even sure what power Order would grant. Feel free to comment or reblog with suggestions!

So, while I like the general idea and even think that Adrien wouldn't be a bad Chaos wilder (he's already pretty chaotic), I don't think that this beats the canon setup from a powers perspective. I also wouldn't replace Plagg with Xuppu because Xuppu doesn't seem like the kind of character people will enjoy in large doses. During the rare moments where he's allowed to have his own personality, he comes across as pretty annoying. Plagg isn't perfect, but he's not going to do this sort of nonsense:

Kim: Awww! A flying monkey plushie! Xuppu: I'm no plushie! My name's Xuppu, you nitwit! (blows a raspberry at him) Kim: My name's not nitwit! My name's Kim! (he and Xuppu make faces at each other while Master Fu watches from afar) Master Fu: I'm wondering if this was the smartest move after all. Xuppu: (while Kim puts on the Monkey Miraculous) Just say showtime already!

I think that a character like this would get real old, real fast! Plagg may dish out insults, but he's a lot more clever about them and does come across as generally caring about Adrien. Xuppu would need similar fleshing out if he was one of the main Kwamis and, at that point, you're basically going to get something similar to Plagg so I'm not sure it's worth the work. Especially since Xuppu's power isn't super well defined and stories where the powers are used all the time tend to be stronger when the audience has an understanding of what the powers can do. It establishes stakes and makes fights make sense. If a fight if just whatever the writers want to write today, that's a lot less engaging.

[setsugekka]

『atarashī 』 ; 05

❝ breaking point ❞ | mlist  ｡

student!hongjoong x fem!reader, husband!yeosang x fem!reader — drama, dark romance, mystery, heavy sexual content [8k wc] ch cws: smut, a lot of it!!, more marital problems (yes, the baby thing again), very destructive, heat of the moment decision making out of anger that certainly can't be undone...heh

"I think I'm falling in love with someone."

Sitting on the couch beside you, sharing the same warm blanket and with a glass of wine not unlike your own in hand, Yeosang turns to look at you with an expression that vividly says is that so? 

It's evenings like this especially that you're thankful for your wealthy background—an apartment to yourself in the middle of the city during college—not something many others get to have for themselves. As a result, you and your boyfriend enjoy so many nights together such as this one, cuddled up in the living room with a movie on the television that neither of you have much intention of paying attention to.

"Oh really?" Yeosang says, playing along. "Anyone I know?"

You smile, pleased by his willingness. "Not sure, just some finance guy with bleached blonde hair and a pretty birthmark by his eye."

Grinning, Yeosang pulls closer to your body. "None of those things sound especially...special. Surely there's something else about him that you like that has you falling for him?"

Face nuzzling into your neck, you feel his lips press into the skin there while a hand beneath the blanket slips over your thigh and slowly between your legs.

"Yeah, I guess so," you reply, feigning being lost in thought on the matter. "He's got a big dick."

Yeosang laughs out loud and into your flesh—not anticipating the comment—and as a result you feel the wetness of his saliva sprinkled from his reaction. You reel with a shriek, pulling quickly away from him and lamenting the outcome of this through laughs that the both of you share.

"Seriously! You spit on me! Gross!"

"Sorry," he says quickly, still grasping towards you in an effort to pull you back against him. "I wasn't expecting the comment about my dick, can you really blame me?"

"For spitting on me!? Yes!" you retort, though playfully and with little resistance to his desire to have you close to him again.

"I didn't mean to do that part," Yeosang says, lips finding yours and hand slipping between your legs once you're close enough again. "I have something you can spit on though, if that would help."

An enticing offer, hard to refuse. You begin to allow yourself to melt into his touch, another evening of enjoying all of the ways that the two of you seem to fit together with such ease. In so many ways, you can't even begin to fathom a world in which you don't. Maybe this is it. Maybe this guy will be the one.

A concept you've never found yourself particularly fussed with before, but who knows. Maybe with him.

"Hey."

The word brings you back out of your thoughts, Yeosang's eyes fitted firmly onto your own now. A small smile paints his lips, as if wildly pleased just by the mere existence of you. Probably true, too. The beginning always feels like this.

"It's about time you caught up, was starting to think I was going to be waiting forever here, by myself, like a loser."

"What do you mean?" you question, eyebrows furrowed.

Yeosang kisses you lightly then, no nefarious intent behind it. A mere showing of kind affection towards you that feels so strongly like the warmth of adoration from one person to another. Innocent, well-meaning. Perfect.

"I love you."

Over the sound of sizzling onions in the pan just in front of you, the loud pop of a champagne cork echos through the dining area of your apartment and turning to look to your left, you watch your husband pour two glasses of the beverage. One for each of you.

Yeosang slides closer to you, slips an arm across the small of your back and around your body to pull you closer against him and places a kiss atop the peak of your shoulder. His lips curl into it, which has a similar effect on your own.

So, you turn your attention fully to him, and the two of you share a kiss over the savory scent of dinner preparation, and in times like this you're actually able to forget all of the other stuff that lies dormant beneath the happiness that exists within this partnership.

If only he was home more often so that it was more of the norm, and less of a reminder.

"It smells delicious," Yeosang says, lips still pressed into your shoulder as he stands beside you. "I wonder what dessert is going to be."

Hardly hidden in intent enough to even be considered an innuendo, Yeosang tips his glass lightly towards your own before whisking himself away and out of the kitchen entirely before you have a chance to chastise him for his filthy mind. 

"Be good, or there won't be any dessert."

"I hardly believe that."

Unfortunately, Yeosang knows better. The long, messy hair that delicately cradles the sharp lines of his face as well as the pretty birthmark he has now long since given up trying to hide—your husband stands at the end of the kitchen island in just a plain, white button down shirt and black slacks, but it's plenty to have the mind wandering about what dessert might have to offer indeed.

You remain strong in your resolve, flash him a look that tells him to behave, and at the very least he appears to acquiesce to the suggestion, taking a sip of his drink and then carrying himself further away and towards the dining room table.

"How is it?"

You ask over the gentle clinking sounds of silverware against porcelain plating. It's not often that the two of you get to share evenings together such as this—dinner often reduced to quick and cheap take out, less candlelit filet and the fancy champagne glasses that you received as wedding gifts.

Yeosang leans back in his seat though, mouth full of food and chewing while grinning like a pleased child who couldn't possible receive anything else, anything better from the world. "Delicious. Amazing. You've really outdone yourself this time."

A loving grin takes your face, bashful in the praise even if it comes from your husband, and he's not even finished yet. Yeosang leans forward again with elbows into the glass table, eyes pressed onto you.

"I'm so lucky. The luckiest man on earth, if I had to guess."

You play along. "It is hard to imagine anyone else to be living more lavishly than you are right now, isn't it?"

"Unfathomable, really," he chuckles under his breath, taking a sip of champagne and tossing his napkin onto the table to signal his defeat by the meal in question. "I'd like to see someone try."

Sliding his hand across the table, you meet him halfway and place yours on top of it. 

"I have a couple of work emails to catch up on that I've been ignoring all day," Yeosang says with a disgruntled sigh. "But after that...maybe we can revisit that conversation about dessert."

It's not the most ideal, but duty calls. Suppose the table could use some clearing and pans beginning their soaking process in the meantime—thus, you agree with little pushback on the matter.

"I'm holding you to that," you say, coy.

Yeosang takes his hand back, stands from the table and leans over to kiss you on the mouth, lips lingering just atop yours as he grants you a whispered reply. "Good, I hope you do."

Hands wet with warm water and dish soap, you idly drag a sponge across the front of a plate with little thought expended towards the act.

And then your phone vibrates atop the counter just beside.

You still—confused—it's so late in the evening by now that you wonder who it is that could possibly be attempting to contact you. Seonghwa knows you're sharing an evening with your husband and wouldn't bother with an attempt to shoot the shit right now, so when you quickly dry your hands and illuminate the screen, the email that pops up is far from one that you would expect to be finding.

Hey, Sorry for the late night contact, I was going through the other lists of contacts and couldn't find anyone who might be able to set me up with some industry viewings or interviews. Would you happen to know anyone I could speak to about this? My professor is, to put it kindly, useless. Thanks, Hongjoong.

You reread the email two, three times in total. Glance around yourself to ensure that you're alone despite knowing that Yeosang is still holed up in his office with work. Not that you're doing anything wrong—this is work of your own to deal with, after all.

Something in you enjoys this, however. Enjoys the attention, enjoys the way that Hongjoong comes to you for the things that he may need. There's a guilty part of you that knows that the correct choice in this matter is to tell him that he should only contact you during normal, business hours, but another, louder and perhaps sinister part that enjoys the attention; basks in the way that Hongjoong seemingly wants your attention just as much as the other way around, and has no qualms with doing what it takes to acquire it.

Your last meeting with him was a mistake, one that you have no intention of ever revisiting. Boundaries need to be put in place. You can reel this back enough that it sits firmly in the harmless flirting category rather than whatever that was that happened in the theater hall before.

Hey, Unfortunately, I don't have anything on hand, this conversation would be better suited for office hours back at the theaters. I have a personal listing of contacts that would probably suit you well in an effort to advance your career. The professors at the Akademiya have no such lists. We can meet sometime this week and look it over.

See? Perfectly professional. You set your phone down to get back to the dishes that await, but his reply chimes through quicker than anticipated, and worse than that, the excitement of that fact vibrates electric hot under your skin.

Then what kind of conversation would be better suited for the late evening hours? Do you have anything in mind? Instead of waiting for the week to meet, we should meet tomorrow night. 

Well, you certainly can't chalk this one up to you. Wholly started by Hongjoong now, you try to fight back the way the corners of your lips curl upwards at how seemingly desperate he is for your attention—for you to talk to him, see him—and while you know you shouldn't be indulging in it, they're just emails. Just text. He can't touch you here, can't undress you here. Nothing on the table like the last time.

But now the dishes go all but forgotten entirely; you turn away from them, phone in hand and glancing up every now and then to keep an eye on the door to the office room. Still closed. 

You wonder how wrong this really is. Where the line of affair truly begins and ends.

I don't think it's a good idea for either of us to be going out to do God knows what on a Saturday night, but I appreciate the offer. I can meet you early Monday morning to go over the potential prospects that would likely suit you.

Hongjoong replies quickly to that. Something that you find you are enjoying.

Perhaps not a good idea for you. There's a club I want to go to, you're not allowed to go out and dance when you're married? You didn't answer my question about what we should be talking about at night, by the way. Also, I'm a little regretful I didn't think to take photos of the garment on you, they would have helped a lot with the future planning phase. Instead when I'm working late at night I just have to go off of memory...

The last paragraph is so poignant that you almost immediately forget about the rest of the words laid out in the text. Your heart rate accelerates—hard and fast against your chest as you read the words over and over again—is he...? Is this...?

A thinly veiled admission to touching himself to the memory of touching you?

That thought does something hateful to the way your skin feels across your body. Heat felt all across you as you think of the possibility of it; Hongjoong laid out along his bed, the fabric of his shirt pushed up just slightly across his abdomen and pants pushed down, hand tightly wrapped around his cock as he thinks of you, imagines that it's you, pretends that it's you as he comes across his fist.

You shake the thought from your head as quickly as you can, but the lasting effect of it sitting pooled between your own legs isn't as easily pushed away.

There's a conscious effort to read back the email and simply ignore that bit now, so that you can at the very least reply to everything else.

Surely you have friends from the Akademiya to go with, no need for a married housewife to tag along.

Trying to make yourself sound as boring, uninteresting as possible. You continue on.

Sorry about the garment. As for nightly discussion topics, I'm not sure if there's anything that would be deemed rather appropriate.

Great. You've done your part. You sigh, quickly put your phone on the counter—face down—and make an effort to get back to the dishes, but unfortunately Hongjoong seems to have no intention of allowing you to do any such thing and his reply comes through just as fast as the others.

You nearly drop your phone upon reading it, however.

I don't want to go with friends from the Akademiya, and I have no intention of remaining professionally appropriate, either. I think you liked the way I touched you back at the theater. Do you want to know what other ways I can touch you?

No. No, no, no. In your mind, at the forefront of everything, you repeatedly tell yourself that you cannot engage with this any further. That a conversation needs to be had with the Akademiya board about this, that you cannot keep indulging in this banter with him, because it's going to impede not only your ability to be professional, but also his ability to be a student. You're going to have to take this to administration Monday morning. This can't keep going on.

Beyond that thought, your thoughts wander to exactly what it is that he's implying. Recalling the gentle, tender ghost of his fingertips across your skin, his attentive gaze upon your form with every movement, every single thing that he had done in regard to you. Hongjoong has only ever given you his full, undivided attention—you can't help but wonder what that might be like when there is no barrier to the way his hands, or mouth, could be on you.

You must not reply quick enough for his liking, and that makes sense because a part of you has long since abandoned the want to continue partaking in the conversation at all. It's no good for you, and only going to get worse the more you respond. There's guilt there, because what if he feels terribly for having sent you such things—creepy, uncomfortable in the aftermath of never being met with a response—but the stronger part of you, the part that slowly has your own hand sinking down into the front of your jeans to alleviate some of the pressure that this has resulted in, can't be bothered to care. Regardless, another email from him comes across your inbox.

Are you thinking about it now? I'm thinking about it too.

The thought has you putting pressure into your fingertips, bottom lip caught up between your teeth as you close your eyes and picture it; his hands on himself, his hands on you. 

You have no business indulging in this fantasy, but at the end of the day, it is just that. It's not real, and nothing has happened. You imagine your husband has probably shared similar moments of weakness—coming over his fist to the thought of having a colleague in a particularly fitted pencil skirt, no doubt. It's a human want, desiring the new, and even in some cases, desiring precisely the thing that we should not ever have.

Hongjoong doesn't email again, and in ways it leaves you high and dry—wanting but never reaching any particular point within the interaction. You wash your hands then stand idly in front of the sink, staring blankly into the tiled, back wall of the countertop and contemplating what, exactly, you're going to say to the administration board come Monday morning.

Less than the breaking through of light through the crack of the blinds, it's the feeling of your husband nesting his chin against your shoulder that wakes you back to consciousness in the morning.

Yeosang brings an arm up from behind you, tosses it lazily over your side to pull you tighter against his form. Lips drop chaste kisses to the exposed skin below them, and the reminder of his early morning attraction to you is felt firm and thick against you from behind.

And so, you lightly push back into him, reveling in the low groan that rumbles in his throat as a result of the motion. His kisses upon your shoulder turn slightly harder and paired with small nips of his teeth—the hand once against your stomach then traveling down beneath the sheets and settling between your legs.

"Good morning, baby," he says, just above a whisper and the morning gravel to his tone adding just that much more to the desire you carry for him. "Sorry for the late night, maybe I can make it up to you now?"

Practiced fingers rubbing into you, Yeosang continues pressing himself against you, hard and thick, slotting between your pressed together legs and shallowly driving into you as to simulate the turn that this morning can take. You moan lightly, melting into the touch. Desire creeping up through your veins at a rapid pace and pushing back timed just right to meet his motions halfway.

"You do kind of owe me," you answer back playfully, alluding to being left to fall asleep alone so many hours ago. "How do you intend to do that?"

Yeosang hums, thoughtful. "In theory, shouldn't I be at the mercy of your whims? Made to do whatever it is that you wish of me?" His hand slips away from between your legs then, instead moves between your bodies, positioning himself better for what's soon to come. "Or maybe I'll just take matters into my own hands. Flip you over, fuck you into the mattress where you belong."

Your groan is louder but still airy and sleep-carried at not only the words, but Yeosang's initial, slow drive inside of you. A strong hand moving to grip at your thigh—pry your leg apart just slightly to make space for him to fill you—it only takes a few, shallow strokes before he sits firmly planted deep within the warmth of you, though he doesn't sit still for much time before he withdraws equally long and slow, pushing in again and biting into the skin of your shoulder as you gasp out at the feeling of him having you.

"How's this for owing you?" he asks, though there's little genuine question in it and you know that. "How about I make you come around my dick, then we'll see who owes who."

Yeosang delivers a hard thrust then, punching the air and another whimpered moan out from your throat as you lean forward to clutch at the sheets beneath your bodies. His motions don't relent, settling into that pace for the foreseeable future—fingers gripping hard into the flesh of your thigh as he nearly pulls your body down and onto his cock with every drive forward.

"Fuck, Yeosang—"

"Yeah? Feels that good already?" he answers low, taunting. "Always know you're dying for it when I've got you moaning my name."

Repeated hard and long strokes of himself into your body that quickly send you teetering on the edge of release, Yeosang continues teasing you through it with his words—the sound of your bodies meeting quickly and in succession resounding through the otherwise silent room—and just when you feel your body pulling taut around him, whining and whimpering into the sheets below in desperation for him not to stop, to keep going, begging for more, harder, faster; Yeosang gifts you with just that.

"That's it baby," he says now, voice more pointed, domineering. "Come real good for me so I can fill you up just like you want—" teeth nipping into your skin again, teeth clenched when he stops to speak and fucks you even harder still, almost angrily in delivery both words and body. "Fuck my cum deep into you, get myself that baby I want after all."

It rattles you, but you're too far gone and within the throes of dirty talk, the filthiness of it still has you coming apart around him just like he wants from you. When your orgasm crashes over you, it has every nerve ending in your body firing off, skin on fire and burning at the spots in which he touches you as he continues to fuck you through it, and shortly after, empties himself inside of you with a deep, hearty groan too.

But the post-orgasmic bliss of it all wears off much quicker than under normal circumstances.

Your breathing steadies, body returning to normal fast and as a result, you're pulling away from him and creating space between your forms. When his softening length drops from inside of you and the subsequent leaking of what he's left spills out, you grimace at the feeling of it. 

You don't say anything right away, but he must notice—knows you. The two of you have been here before, after all.

"What?" he asks, but his tone makes it evident that he already is well enough aware, and annoyed by your reaction too.

Part of you considers not bothering with answering him, little point to starting this fight, but he is your husband, and suppose he deserves at least that much.

"Seriously? Again with that?"

Yeosang doesn't say anything right away, which spurs your glancing back and over your shoulder at him.

He's smiling. Pleased.

"You didn't seem to hate the idea when you were coming."

"Yeah, because you were talking dirty to me and I enjoy having sex with you! It feels good! I love you! That doesn't mean it's free range for you to drag in all of our points of contention."

He rolls his eyes, turns to lie on his back. "All of our points of contention, as if there are any besides this one thing."

You have to fight back the laugh that wants to tear through you, it's like he's never heard anything you've been saying at all: in regards to a baby, in regards to his being gone all the time, in regards to your inability to nourish your desire for the arts. Nothing at all.

Instead, you pull yourself up from the bed entirely and make haste in getting dressed. You've got to get out of here, and more than that, you have to get away from him.

Yeosang's eyes remain on you as you throw items on your body. "I have to go to work," you say, and when you hear your husband huff out a laugh, you regret giving him even that much.

"Work," he repeats, plain. "I'm sure you have so much work to do."

That infuriates you more. The incessant unwillingness to take you or anything you do seriously so long as it doesn't involve him and his wants from you. You pull a light jacket from the closet, shrug it on fast, then walk back to the nightstand to grab your phone and hurry your way out of the room.

"Lemmie ask you something," Yeosang then says, voice still simple and unbothered in a way that infuriates you just that much more. Because of course he doesn't care, you'll come around for his desires just as you always do, he just has to wait it out a bit longer.

You stop in the doorway, turn to look at him, and don't bother masking the contempt etched into your face.

"Do you want to have a baby?"

Counting the seconds between the words leaving his mouth, and your response to him is simple enough. It's seven. Seven seconds is all it takes to come to your final conclusion.

"No."

And then you're gone.

So many reasons to go home, you instead ignore all of them in favor of staying late at the theater office.

You make up work that needs to be done. Door knobs that need to be polished and rooms that need to be vacuumed out despite just having done it not long ago before. Emails that probably need to be tended to though it's the weekend, and you've already answered the ones that had come in through the week.

A few hours into the dark quiet of the night, you consider that maybe you do need to finally go home. Confront your husband, have this conversation finally. You're not really ready to do that. You wonder if you ever will be ready to do that. 

You wonder if this is what standing in the face of a divorce looks like—having told him the truth of how you're feeling now. Maybe Yeosang already has the papers drafted up. Maybe it takes longer than a few hours to get the papers drafted up. You don't know, it's your first potential divorce, after all.

But the idea of it, of dissolving your marriage to him and going your separate ways saddens you in such a distinct and visceral way that perhaps you'd lost sight of over the last few contentious weeks. A reminder that you love him, that you want to remain in this marriage to him—but you don't want to have a baby, not like this.

Memories of the horrible comments he has made to you in relation to it all then flood through your mind and you're filled with rage over them all over again. You try to remember a time back in college when he was so terrible to you like this, a red flag that you had missed, or maybe just ignored. You fail to locate one, but the anger that sits at your finger tips as a result of it itches in such a distinct and particular way that you have a difficult time setting it aside and being the bigger person about it.

A desire to cause harm, a craving to do to him as he has done to thoughtlessly to you.

Your phone vibrates then, pulls you from the thoughts about it all. Far from hoping to be greeted by a message from the man in question, you're instead shocked to find what it is that is awaiting you, having all but forgotten not only him, but what this evening is.

Last chance to come out tonight.

It's the only thing Hongjoong says. No flirtation, no additional commentary about what may or may not lie beneath the suggestion. A simple enough message, and because of that, suppose you find it easy to lull yourself into what may be a false sense of comfort in regards to the situation.

If only your husband knew. He would hate finding out about where you were going, and who with.

All the more reason to go.

You reply, tell Hongjoong to send you the address of where to meet and he does so quickly. Still, nothing extra added to the messages, so flat, in fact, that you consider the possibility of being entirely delusional about the exchange of messages the night prior. Maybe that never happened, maybe you had had a little too much to drink.

It's not hard to locate the email thread and scroll through the messages as they had been left to you, and no, you did not, in fact, have too much to drink last night.

You grab your bag, sling it over your shoulder, and head out down the red Aurelian halls towards the door.

Upon your arrival, you realize that you had not put thought into proper dress attire for this sort of endeavor—not that it had been planned anyway.

It's early enough in the evening that the crowd outside isn't that jam packed. People stand around in small pockets of peer groups, dressed somewhat similarly as if having presented a theme and wholeheartedly wanting to stick to it. The sight of it sort of endears you, makes you wish that that was something that you could partake in too.

Instead, here you are; oversized hoodie and a boring, black skirt that comes down about mid-thigh. Hardly sexy, hardly anything really.

You glance down at yourself, frown a little at what you have to offer. A few years back you probably would have really killed the scene at something like this, but now, this is all you've managed to bring to the table.

There's a run climbing its way up the side of your calf in your tights, and you can't help but think of it as an incredibly apt manifestation of everything.

"Hey."

Turning to face the voice, Hongjoong approaches you as he takes a final drag of a burnt down cigarette. Not a fan, but far from your place and you suppose it's not especially shocking, either. He's never smelled of smoke down at the theater, but more than this knowledge is the fact that he's more or less dressed just the same as you usually see him too. Tight, slightly ripped jeans, a simple shirt, and a jacket over top—only this one has more zippers, more buttons, more adornments that make it appear more him.

"I didn't know you smoke."

"I don't really, only socially, when I'm drinking," he replies, flicking it to the ground and crushing it under the heel of his boot. "Why? Don't like that?"

You shrug. "Not really up to me what you do, I'm not your keeper."

Hongjoong smirks, leans in a little bit closer to your face with those words. "Mmm, wouldn't you like to be though."

He leans back again just as quickly, as if never having said or done anything out of the ordinary at all. Looks you up and down for a second—judging, you consider—but any negative commentary never comes, and instead he nods towards the entrance to go inside.

"You ever been here?" he asks as the two of you wait behind only a handful of people at the door.

"No," you can't help but laugh. An asinine question. "I'm thirty."

"So? You can't have fun anymore when you're thirty? What's the age cut off? Or is it just that your husband doesn't want you getting out of the house too much anymore."

Hearing Hongjoong speak so clearly about Yeosang sends a spike of rage down your spine that you sort of don't expect. You want to bite back at the comment, though the truth in it and a reminder of what it is that he has said to you grants Hongjoong unknown reprieve from being on the receiving end of such.

"I just don't get out much anymore, not like this," you choose to reply. Somewhat true, in ways. You watch Hongjoong nod to the door guy as the both of you enter together and become swallowed up but the pitch black dark and loud, booming bass of the floor inside, forcing you to yell the remainder of your sentence to your company for the evening.

"No one to go with."

Hongjoong turns his head, looks you dead in the eye at that. Mischievous perk to the corner of his lips as he leans in so slowly, so pointedly, that a part of you thinks that he's going to kiss you.

"Guess I'm going to have to fix you then."

It's not lost on you at all, the verbiage of choice. Not a matter of fixing that, your outlook, your circumstances. No.

He's going to fix you.

An hour or so into the night and two drinks down, there's a loosening in your body that feels much needed after the prior events that still hang heavily over your head. The music is loud—so loud that you can feel it rattling through your bones—jarring in a way that feels new to you despite this not being your first time at a place such as this. Hongjoong seems content with allowing you to take the lead for the evening, and the two of you hang back in a corner of the open floor plan just next to the steps that lead upwards. He asks if you want to get another drink but you decline the offer, swaying to the electronic music as stand.

A few more moments pass, he leans in towards your ear once again. "Dance with me."

It's less of a request, more of a demand you realize, when you feel him slot himself behind you and a hand sets lightly against your waist. A part of you wants to protest the action, remembering the last time you allowed the man to be so close in proximity to you and what resulted from that. Tonight isn't supposed to go like that. Tonight is only meant to take the edge off of the looming problems that await you back home.

The alcohol certainly helps, fuzzy through your veins and electrifying his touch on you. Not long after, Hongjoong spins you so that you're facing him, hand coming up to hold you by the back of the neck and pulling you so closely to him that your foreheads meet and eyes settle harshly upon one another. In a brief moment of weakness, you remember the emails sent the night before; the implications, the understanding without explicitly being stated that they hold. A rush of excitement courses through you—you shouldn't be here, you shouldn't be here with him. 

Then you think of Yeosang, wonder what he's doing right now while you're out here, like this. Wonder if he's choosing baby names, wonder if he's going as far as to sabotage your birth control. You don't really know how far he's willing to go to get what he wants from you—his wife, his incubator. 

At a place like this, with a man like Hongjoong, none of that matters. He wants nothing of the sort from you. Zero expectations of a role you're meant to be fulfilling for him. 

You love your husband, but you also hate him for everything that he is putting you through.

Hongjoong's face slips past yours, mouth settling atop your ear instead. So close that you can feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over you, sending a shiver across your flesh.

"Stop thinking," he says against you. His other hand sits at your hip, though you can feel the burn of his fingers curling into you—the fabric of your skirt riding up your leg to expose more of it. "You can be whatever or whoever you want here. None of that other shit matters."

His lips slip down just a bit then, lightly trailing over the skin of your neck—almost nonexistent in the way that he touches you but still so sure of it that you allow your head to fall back, loll to the side with eyes closed to take it in. Hongjoong's teeth graze you, and it manifests in a vivid throb of arousal between your legs that you want more than anything to find the strength to ignore.

But you don't, not anymore.

You bring your head back up, look him in the eyes for just a moment before your lips crash against his, and he meets you eagerly, hungrily. Not missing a beat despite the neediness. No one is here to find you, no one is here to see this, and for all intents and purposes; it might as well not even exist. Not the kiss, not you, and not him. The hand cradling the back of your neck tightens in grip, pulls you harder against his mouth as teeth nip at your bottom lip like he's been waiting for this forever. Desperate for it, unwilling to allow you to escape it. You don't want to anyway.

Over the sound of your back meeting the firm mattress below, you barely have a chance to find your bearings—hear the sound of the front door closing and clicking locked—before Hongjoong is crawling over your form and pressing his mouth to every bit of exposed skin that he can manage to find. There isn't much, and this obviously frustrates him with the quickness in which he pulls you sitting, hurriedly peels off the sweatshirt that hides your torso from him, and tosses it somewhere on the floor of his quiet apartment.

He kisses you again, just as much neediness as before, and you meet him with just the same amount of vigor. Quick fingers unfastening the garment still hiding your chest from him, his mouth traveling downward then to press his mouth and tongue into the soft flesh that awaits him there. 

You gasp out, back arching up and into him. Heat rushing to your head with every expertly placed swirl of his tongue, though it's lost quickly when he sits back onto his heels, grabs at you by the thighs and pulls your hips to the edge of the bed to settle himself between. It's dizzying intoxicating, everything happening so quickly that you can barely find it within yourself to keep up. When you're grounded enough, Hongjoong's fingers are already dug into the hem of your skirt, pulling it down your legs, and when your eyes meet his, he makes it a point to dig nails into the soft fabric of your already previously marred tights. Ripping them more as they cascade down to pool at the floor.

There's a protest that begins within you but dies out in almost an instant—the feeling of Hongjoong's tongue pressed into your folds destroying any chance the words had at escaping out into the air.

"Oh my God—" is what you do get out, and Hongjoong hums into your cunt in response to the lazy attempt.

Urgency courses through every movement, and it thrills you and sets your body alight. You understand it well, every thought put out of your mind except for him, the way that he's touching you, the way that he seems to crave your body in a way that you haven't quite experienced in so, so long. To be desired for exactly what you are, not what you could be—not for what you can give him in the future, even.

Hongjoong's fingers come up to meet his mouth, presses two inside of you slowly enough but the need is still sitting just behind the motion. You moan out loud at the feeling of him—any part of him—filling your body. Back arching again, hands coming down to curl into strands of hair that do not belong to the man who put a ring on your finger.

He sets a rhythm, brings you even closer to being drunk with visceral want for him. All you can think about is what's next, needing more, needing to feel more of him.

And it's as if he can read your mind, understand your body as it lies beneath his grasp as he pulls away; stands just long enough to strip himself of his jacket, his shirt. Can't be parted from you long enough to remove his jeans all the way and only gets far enough that the front is unbuttoned before he's pushing you up the length of the bed and slotting himself between your legs once more. Lips crashing down onto yours just like before, the weight of his body held to one arm while he works himself out of his jeans and you don't get any further warning than that before he sinks into you—slowing just enough in an effort to ease the sting of the stretch, but carving space inside of your body for him all the same.

You gasp out, his name somewhere in the sounds. His teeth find your neck as a hand finds one of your thighs you pull you open for him. Hongjoong's hips snap into you three, four times, and each time the air is punched out of your lungs, electricity raging through your body with every hard, thick drag of his cock inside of you.

He feels and looks like heaven when he pulls back enough to focus on the task at hand—a steady, rough rhythm as he fucks you hard, reveling in every whimper and moan and gasp that he drags out of you as he does so. Bottom lip tucked up between his teeth as he stares down at the way that you come undone beneath him. You want him. You desire him. You crave everything about him—most of all, the way that he craves you. 

There's so much behind it, overwhelming in all ways. Another pained, desperate whimper falling from your lips as you reach out towards his face to bring him closer to you. He does, drapes himself over your body as he continues full, pointed drives that have him burying every inch of himself between your legs. You attempt words though it's much of a failure, but Hongjoong seems wildly attuned to the needs of you, your body—brings the hand not clutching at the flesh of your thigh up and into your hair as if to hold you there in place, his lips sitting at the shell of your ear once more to drive you just that much more wild.

"Anything you want," he whispers against you, a call back to an earlier conversation before things ever got this far. Not even all that long ago, either. 

Your muscles tighten, contracting with the impending crash of your orgasm. You know what you want: to feel him like this for as long as you can manage to do so. His lips on your skin, his hands all across your body, the perfect, velvet drag of his cock against your walls—a desire to taste him, watch him come against your tongue—and perhaps even the filthy desire to be had by him, taken by him, in all of the other ways that people who engage in debauchery do. Even currently fucked by him, your mind wanders briefly to the thought of a hand tightly wrapped around your throat, and his cock embedded tightly in your ass.

Anything you want. What do you want? This?

"'m coming—" you gasp, the words barely even coherent enough to be understood, but Hongjoong is attuned to it, to your body in such an unfathomable way. Delivers into you harder, longer, more fulfilling strokes until you're whining and begging and nearly crying out as your release crashes down upon your body. Eyes rolling, crown of your head pushed back and into the mattress as your body arches up and against his own—orgasm ravaging you, claiming you for his.

Hongjoong hisses at the tail end of yours, two, three drives tip to hilt inside of you and then he buries himself deep to the point that it nearly pains you to have him so hard and heavy and be so full of him, but he holds you there—down and against him and in place as he empties inside of your cunt with a few pulsing, firm throbs.

The weight of reality crashes down much faster than you suppose you might have anticipated—if you were to have considered this to ever be an option that you would go through with.

Your stomach turns, chest clenches tight, and throat runs dry. Hongjoong kisses you on the mouth and that distracts you long enough—still melting into his touch—what you've done not enough to put you off of the man that has been your ultimate moral failing.

How did you get here? How did you allow this to happen?

It's in that moment that you hear the vibration of your phone from inside of your purse, left somewhere along the floor in the flurry of sexual deviancy. Hongjoong lies himself on top of you fully, holding you to the mattress as his lips find your neck and trail hot, wet kisses into the skin there, as if still in need of your body. As if just having had you moments ago not even close to enough to take the edge of his want for you off.

And it's just as intoxicating to you as before. Eyes closing, palms running up his back and nails digging into his skin as you feel him gently begin drives of himself inside of you once more. Softening, spent length still nestled against your walls, marred and marked with his cum even still as he shallowing fucks into you again.

"Ignore it," he whispers into your skin, teeth finding the flesh in a way that has you keening.

"I have to—" you start, finding all of the will inside of yourself to pull away just enough to locate the bag. Hongjoong once more pushes your back down against the mattress, continues his handwork on your body as you do whatever task it is that you need to do, unbothered by the fact. "It might be my—"

Hongjoong's head pops up from the crook of your neck just enough, the two of you making eye contact at your unwillingness to state the obvious. As if he's testing you, waiting to see if you're willing to say the word.

3 Missed Calls.

Terrors strikes through your bones at the sight, already knowing who from. The feeling of a hand slipping down between sweat-dampened bodies not enough to distract you—that is, until his fingers find and begin their work stroking circles against your clit.

"Hongjoong, I have to—"

His hips push forward, firmer once again. His cock hardened and fuller in the meantime and offering deliriously delicious friction that, when paired with the perfect press of his fingers just above the place where he remains buried inside of you, leaves you wildly unable to escape his hold.

"I'm not done with you yet."

You type up a text, send it off just as quickly and toss your phone back to the floor. Hongjoong swiftly changes your positions; lies himself back against the bed and pushes you up to be seated atop him. Body weight pushing him fuller into you, grinding yourself down harder in all of the ways that make your body feel like it's on fire as his hands once more travel your skin—nails digging into your hip, soft pads of his fingers ghosting over the supple flesh of your chest in just the way that has you arching and whimpering for more. 

Over the breathy, quiet groan of Hongjoong from below you, you hear the quiet vibration of your phone receiving a message. Most likely from Seonghwa, because that is the person that your only message this evening has gone out to.

If Yeosang asks, tell him I'm with you. I'll explain tomorrow. Love you.

Only a few more perfect rolls of your hips, and Hongjoong has you unraveling for him all over again.

a/n: oh dear.

[milimeters-morales]

So my thing with Hobie’s nicknames: I have Hobie call Lyla “Tinkerbell” or “Tink” bc she’s small, has a yellow glow, and has an attitude, so i’m probably just gonna have him base his names off of childrens’ story characters, like for example Jess would be “Kanga” and her unborn baby is “Roo”, Margo I haven’t decided yet since we don’t know much about her movie-self and Hobie wouldn’t have any character to reference bc of her technology, but from what I’ve seen she could have her nickname as something related to The Little Mermaid because while everyone is here in person, she’s in her own dimension in a life she doesn’t really enjoy, but i’m also hesitant to have him think “Cinderella” is a good name because cmon. Her parents argue a lot, and she does use being a vigilante as a form of escape, but that’s implying that they hate her and harm her, and that’s not something Hobie would say without 100% certainty. Maybe he’d just give her a non-character nickname, like Pixie (bc Pixelate, Pixie Dust, Pick-&-Choose, whatever). Okay this is getting long it’s continued under the cut.

I personally don’t like the Gwendy and Peter Pan nicknames he gave Gwen and Miles but i guess it’s cute, but i would’ve preferred something a bit more personal to Miles rather than just in relation to Gwen bc they feel less like their own people then, even tho Peter and Wendy were an adorable duo. I can see Gwen = Wendy bc she ran away from home to a “neverland” that was supposed to be a paradise basically but realizes she can’t stay, or if you take that “Gwen was going to be shot in the stomach” thing some people who worked on the movie said they got rid of and apply it to her “ghost, gwen stacy always falls, forever immortal and taking back control” thing and her relationship with death and the idea of Neverland having dead children so they are “immortal” and “never grow up” it sticks.

But (even if it’s teasing) calling Miles “Peter Pan” doesn’t even make sense because he didn’t lead her here, she led him to the Society (unknowingly). Like people want to shove “sunflower” and “flower” into everything involving Miles so badly and it feels EXTREMELY forced. I feel like Hobie would call him something else, and this is where the name “Bambi” could come in because while Miles hasn’t lost his mother or father, he’s still learning his place in the world while saving countless people now and in the future, and will eventually become a great stag, even if life wasn’t always kind to him. But again, I don’t think Hobie would do that 100% because he doesn’t really know Miles like that. Or, he could go for more recent nicknames and non-character names that are safer, like “Brave Little Toaster/Toaster” for obvious reasons, or “Spark/Bolt/Livewire” that don’t feel as child-like as “Bambi” or as forced as “Peter Pan”

I also have to take into account what things Hobie just might not have seen, because in the setting i’m talking about he’s not living in a houseboat, so he probably doesn’t have much time to see or learn about these fairytales/characters, and it’s based on chance on when he’d know about them. Because I also have to remember that his city is still highly policed and his people are forced to fit into the mold and comply to societal standards and whatnot, so even things as simple and enjoyable as short stories for kids would be heavily controlled. Libraries are fucked in his universe but they’re one of the only “safe” havens. I think it really adds to his attitude about his own life, how he’s much older than these friends despite being like 16-19, and how he feels the most responsible for them no matter how much he denies that and tries to get rid of that feeling. Calling them these nicknames gives him both the feeling of “haha, these little kids are the future and i’m an old man” and “i’m a little kid again!!”

that’s it :3

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

I looked and looked and looked for who to credit this art for. Maybe I'm blind. Maybe I need to do alternative searches for art to use on my posts. Anyhow, I found both of these on Pinterest. If you or someone you know is the creator, please message me and I'll add the artist.

A/N = Lovely Rengoku. This man can fit into any situation and make it work ... well, maybe not ALL. But you know what I mean. This ~one-a-fucking-gain~ didn't pan out how I planned it. I was originally going to write a whole thing but it pretty much just ended itself. It worked out well, though, despite being kinda short.

C/W = I don't think there are any. Talk of nudity, a small group of nude people posing for artistic purposes. Other than that it's just a fluffy piece. Flirting between Rengoku and y/n (F!reader). Enjoy!

Sign Here X_____________

"Hey, this is beginning art, right?" You asked the man looking over the class syllabus on the wall. He looked to be close to your age, maybe a little younger. He was goddamn beautiful, too. Tall. Not an ounce of body fat in the wrong place. Muscular. Cool hair; blonde with red tips.

He looked at you. For a good 10 seconds before he said anything. Scanning over your face, stopping at your eyes and your lips. You found yourself feeling some way. Not uncomfortable, but like you were under a microscope. Being inspected.

"Yes, this is my class, beginning art."

You narrowed your eyes. "'Your class?' Oh, you mean you're in this class, too? Cool. Well, my name is y/n. I guess I'll see you around. Thanks."

"Heh, no, this is MY class. As in, I'm the instructor. I'm the everything ... actually." He said calmly and smiled at you as he put his hair back in a tight bun and you watched him walk to the oversized desk in the corner of the room.

"Hello, welcome to ...?" He rolled his hands out like as he was encouraging the classroom to interact.

"Arrrrtttt for beginnnnerssss!" Everyone participated. Even you. How could you not. This man could convince a perfectly healthy person to drink a vile of poison.

"Good job, kids," he laughed. Clearly noting the older people in the class. "In this course, we're going to learn how to draw animate and inanimate objects. Always be prepared because I will surprise you from time to time."

You looked around the class to see everyone was completely enthralled with this young man. The person to your left was a woman, maybe in her 40's. She looked nice. You leaned over and said, "I can't wait to see what kind of surprises he's talking about," and giggled. She put her hand over her mouth as she giggled back at your comment.

"Y/n, care to tell me what's so funny back there? I'm not here as a comedian. I'm here as an art teacher. So if comedy is more up your ... alley? Perhaps you would like to go to the room a few doors down and share your humor with everyone that isn't here to learn how to draw?"

You shut up real quick. "S-sorry ... uhhh, I-I don't know your name." You tilted your right ear toward him, waiting for his response.

"I was actually just getting to that before you flexed your humorous." He stared into your eyes for what seemed like an eternity. You don't think he blinked the entire time, either.

"My name is Kyojuro Rengoku. Yes. It's a mouthful. Yes, you have to call me by my full name or I will kick you out of this class."

Your body sunk as he laughed. "No, not really. You can call me Kyo. I'll write it on the board in such a way it'll be simple enough to pronounce." He grabbed the chalk and began to say out loud what he was writing. "Kee-yoh. Kyo. Simple enough, yes?" He looked at you. Again. What the hell was up with him. "See, y/n, I can be funny, too."

You nodded, feeling your cheeks pink up. He still hadn't taken his eyes off of you as your face transitioned back to its original color.

"Now, what exactly is going to be a surprise in this class, you're probably wondering. I presume you all read the waiver etc. that was included in your packet? I know I got most of them back all signed. If you didn't sign one, stay after and talk to me."

Shit, you thought, I never got anything like that.

└────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────┘

Class was only 45 minutes tonight as it was just a basic introduction about what would be covered and when.

"Y/n, may I have a moment of your time?" He sounded so relaxed when he talked. You thought about asking him what his secret was. "Did you mail in your signed waiver? I sent it out with the syllabus about 3 weeks ago?"

You started to twist your bottom lip around with your teeth. "I ... I don't - ah, I mean I didn't ever get that. None of it, Kyo."

He was taken aback by your use of his name so casually. So effortlessly.

"Hm. Look over your information here and tell me if it's correct." He handed you a planner and had you find your name.

You pointed at it.

"Here's my name, phone # and addre-" You stopped and looked at him. "This is my old address. Where did you get this from?"

You'd moved 5 months ago to a little house. But you thought you'd changed everything over before you'd even moved out.

"I got it from here, from the school."

"Ohhh, oh no. I forgot to notify the school." You got a worried look on your face. "Does that mean I'm going to be kicked out of this class?" You didn't even try to disguise your concern.

"Nooo! No, nothing like that, y/n. But I will need you to fill one out, just to cover everything."

"Cover? Cover what? You doing blood sacrifices in here or something?" You laughed.

He didn't. "Among other things, yes."

You waited for him to tell you he was kidding.

A full minute must've gone by before he gave you a half-smile, the left side of his mouth turning upward.

"There will be no sacrifices of any kind in my class, little lamb. Do not worry." He chuckled, rather darkly for someone who was trying to be reassuring.

Little lamb. You're pretty sure you had a "little" orgasm when he called you that.

"Just initial on these and sign at the bottom?" You pointed at the paper.

He put his hand next to where you were pointing, almost resting it right on top of yours.

"Mmmm ... mm-hm. Did you read what it said, y/n?"

You shook your head, quickly at first but then you slowed to an almost complete still.

"It's just about ... about art, and ... other stuff. R-right?" You swallowed hard, it hurt.

"It's basically a declaration that you're ok with nudity in any capacity. You're ok with multiple bodies being nude and draped or sitting on one another. "Basically ..." he continued, "that you're not going to file a sexual harassment claim against myself or the school because you're uncomfortable. It states very obviously that there will be profound nudity in this course. If you're NOT ok with that, then you're free to change your mind, of course. You'll get a full refund, no questions asked."

He watched your face closely for any kind of a reaction.

"Who - who will be the nude model?" You asked, trying to use your big girl voice.

"Anyone who is willing to pose. Sometimes it's someone from class. Sometimes it's someone from a newspaper ad that needs some rainy day money." He paused, "And sometimes," he leaned back in his chair, "sometimes, it'll be me." A cocky look washed over his face. He knew what you were thinking. He was counting on it.

You almost lost your balance when he said that.

"Y-you pose?"

He nodded, looking a little proud of himself for having given you such a reaction.

"I - I think I'll stay in the class then."

"Fantastic. Sign ... right ... here."

Taglist: @callm3senpaii

[nervousgardenerkid]

Hello! I love your writing! Could you do a request of Steve Harrington and reader going to a football game and the kiss cam won’t leave them alone so eventually they kiss for the first time?

Kiss her you fool

a/n: im baaackk!! sorry i went MIA for a while, i just had a lot of things going on. i don't know much about football games cause i'm a baseball gal but i imagine it's slightly the same??😭😭i hope you enjoy what my brain came up with! happy reading and credit to the gif owner!

warnings: none! i decided to make this another modern au cause why not lol. no pronouns were used in this story so everyone can read! the title is just from a song and i thought it'd be fitting

Steve watched with excited eyes as you stood up to cheer as your team scored yet another touchdown. He knew what was going on, he just wasn't much of a football guy. Basketball was his favorite sport but he'd sit through a hundred football games if it meant he could see you acting like this.

“Did you see that touchdown, Steve?!”

He lets out a hum, his eyes falling back onto the field as he watches the grown men tackle each other and run to the person who has the ball. His brain tries to recall old memories of his father explaining the rules of football to him, but they're all coming up as a blur. Now, this wasn't his ideal first date but he saw how excited you for at school games so he figured your excitement would be times ten.

He was right. You stand out of your seat shouting curses at the referee as he made a call you and the fans didn't agree with.

“Fuck you, ref! My grandma is blind and could see that shit!”

Steve chuckles as he watches you slump into your seat fixing the hat that was resting on your head. Steve likes you a lot. He likes that you're not as nervous as he is, he admires that. People begin to stand from their seats going to get some more beer and food as the teams got ready for the next quarter.

“Hey, did you want some more food?” he asks you whole digging into his pocket for his card.

You shake your head, your lips leaving the water bottle he got you earlier.

“I'm fine. Hey, thanks for bringing me here by the way! I'm sure you'd rather come with your friends instead.”

Steve chuckles at the thought of him here with his friends. “Yeah, cause Dustin is a huge fan of sports.”

You giggle, gently nudging him with your shoulder. “You know what I mean, but this is an amazing first date!”

His smile gets wide. “Yeah?”

“Definitely! A great game and a cute guy? I'm the luckiest person in the world right now.”

Steve opens his mouth but stops when he hears the crowd start to cheer and clap loudly. His eyes drift to the huge screen displayed for the audience to see and his heart drops as the words kiss cam are flashing on the screen. As much as he'd love to kiss you, it wasn't ideal for him to do it with literally thousands of people watching.

The crowd lets out an awe as the camera pans over to a happy family, the parents kissing the baby’s cheeks causing her to smile and clap.

“I think I'm gonna get us some more food.” he nervously chuckles. He starts to stuff his phone in his pocket when you look over at him.

“Okay, I'll go with you!” you cheer out while standing up.

Steve begins to protest, assuring you that he can get the food himself when you gasp and point at the screen. The two of you are on there for the whole stadium to see and Steve feels like he has a giant target on his back. His face gets hot and he nervously hides his face behind his hands slowly sinking into the chair. You giggle and poke at his chest trying to get his attention back on you.

“Awe Steve! I didn't know you'd be so nervous!”

He shakes his head and peeks from behind his fingers letting out a groan when the camera is still on you two. You laugh and shake your head signaling the camera to find some other random couple.

Steve peeks once again, a sigh of relief leaving his body as the camera shows another couple.

“You know, if you didn't want to kiss me you could've said no.” you tease.

“It's not that I don't want to kiss you, I do. I just...not in front of the whole stadium. I mean, that guy got booed for kissing his girlfriend on the cheek!”

“To be fair, she did lean in for an actual kiss.”

“Yeah, poor girl.” Steve sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I want to kiss you, I'm just nervous. I really like you and first dates already make me nervous, but a first date with you? I'm surprised it hasn't gone up in flames yet! I mean, sure I accidentally parked in a handicapped spot but that officer was rude for no fucking reason and-”

“Steve,” you said while grabbing his face. “I'm nervous too.”

“You are?” he asked with his cheeks still squished.

“Of course I am! You're Steve Harrington, girls talk a big game when it comes to you.”

His cheeks heat underneath your touch and his eyes are on everything but you.

“‘M not like that anymore. You got the new and improved Steve.”

You hum. “Can new and improved Steve kiss me?”

“Yeah, yeah he can definitely do that.”

Suddenly everyone around you disappears and it's just you and Steve, and god his lips feel so fucking nice on yours. Hearing about how good Steve is at kissing is one thing, but now that you're experiencing it you're happy to say that the rumors are true. Steve Harrington is a damn good kisser. The way his hand holds the back of your neck is so gentle, but the hand that's gripping your hip trying to bring you closer is what makes the butterflies swarm in your tummy.

Steve gets annoyed with the armrest that separates you two and has you faced at a weird angle, so he swiftly moves you from your seat to his lap, smiling when he hears you gasp. You both pull away panting for air with hooded eyes and rosy cheeks.

“Damn, what's a woman gotta do to get kissed like that?” an older woman next to you mumbled to herself. Your eyes widen and you look around you to see everyone’s eyes on you.

“Looks like they got their kiss,” Steve mumbles while pointing at the big screen that has you both on there.

“HELL YEAH MAN! GET ALL ON THAT!” a man shouts while clapping his hands. The crowd starts to cheer and whistle at the two of you while you rush off of his lap and back into your seat. You hide your face in your hands and men cheer for Steve and pat his back or shoulders, and you try your hardest not to laugh when women are asking you if he has an older brother.

Steve turns to you with a bashful smile on his face and clears his throat.

“Look, I really like you. I'm not saying you have to be with me right after this date, we can go as slow as you'd like.”

His eyes fall to his hands, too nervous to look at you any longer.

“If I'm being honest I’d wait for fucking ever if it meant I could call you mine.”

“Keep talking like that Steve and I’ll be yours by the end of this game.” you say with a smile on your face and your hand resting in his. Steve opens his mouth to say something but stops when a high pitched voice interrupts him.

“Ugh, why can't you talk to me like that Harold?!”

“Samantha, I'm trying to watch the game.”

"You always watch the game!"

"God, I need another beer."

You and Steve turn to the arguing couple that sits behind you before you both turn back to each other.

“We should probably go get that food.” Steve said, holding back a chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah we should.”

[irkimatsu]

@blue-dream-boye asked in a reply a few days ago, what sort of porn do I think Husk is into? I want to ramble in ways that won't fit in a reply box, so here we go!

I think one thing we can be sure of based on canon is that Husk prefers his porn to be authentic. No shitty plots, writing, or acting, no participants who are trying to look like they're enjoying it but Husk can see right through it. It's not like he doesn't want any plot in his porn, but after a certain point, if it's a well-written and acted film he's not watching it for the nudity anymore. Sometimes that's fine, but sometimes he just wants to get to the good stuff. Simplicity is best - show him some people who he believes all want to be involved in this, get them all naked, and let him watch the fun, no need for in-universe justifications. It doesn't necessarily need to be romantic (though he does like that mood sometimes), just believable that everyone is enjoying this. I don't think he has any particular preference for the gender or orientation of what he watches, since he's pan and gender-blind. Being pan does make orgy porn more fun, though, as long as everyone is willing to indulge in each other. Videos with multiple men involved in an orgy, but trying desperately to avoid each other while having sex with the women involved? Fucking cowards, touch some dick already.

Kink wise, I think it's hard to shock him - he's been around a long time, and he certainly didn't give a shit about the video Angel showed him, even if that was relatively vanilla. I'm not sure if he has many hard kinks (but would love for canon to give me more info on that, ahem), but he'll give most things an honest try as far as viewing goes, if only to try to break up the monotony. Husk has watched piss-drinking porn, gotten bored halfway through, and moved on with his life.

And since this is what started it, what the reply was initially about - I absolutely think Husk would have a preference for vintage-style porn, simply out of nostalgia. Old-fashioned Vegas strip shows, old pin-up posters that leave just enough to the imagination, grainy old videos which make up for their low budget with their unmistakable passion. It's what he was used to when he was alive, after all. He'll still look at modern stuff with its unapologetic raunchiness, he's not a prude, but it's nice to have a taste of home, so to speak, and he likes getting to use his imagination while enjoying himself. Give him a starting point and he'll fill in the rest.

It does get harder for him to find porn he likes as time goes on. Especially after his time as an Overlord; not only has he seen it all, he's done it all. It's dull getting off to something he's seen a million times before. But every once in a while he'll find an actor he's attracted to; physically, and for their personality and how they act during sex. Give him someone he likes, then give that someone what appears to be an emotional connection on a screen... that's the one thing that doesn't get old. In that light, a lot of the stuff he watches in death is likely independently-made, rather than coming from an exploitative studio like Val's.

He's an old jaded pervert, but he's also got a soft heart and misses feeling loved during sex, that's how I like him

[berrycake99]

On Alastor's sexuality:

Ok so a thread I NEVER thought I'd have to make, but shit's getting out of hand and I am a little bit annoyed now.

For the longest time, I've defended Alastor ships because I really don't have a problem with random fanart/fics, regular fandom stuff...

But it's getting ridiculous, the latest post I've seen is headcanoning Alastor to be "bi-romantic", ofc getting rly defenssive if someone just says ANYTHING else.

The 'hypersexualization' of his character doesn't lay in him being portrayed in very sexy fanart or fics. It's the fact everyone's using Alastor for claiming their sexuality to be more valid, straight up jumping over his entire character. He is a beautifully written complex morally gray character and ppl only seek to see "wELL wHaT hIS seXuAL pREfErEncE iS", is it really that important???

Even if he's not confirmed aro, he is still asexual and just slamming any other title before ace to make him into your sexuality and then gripping onto it so effin hard is childish.

And you can't even make the argument of his sexuality actually being somewhat important to his character (like how for exemple, Vox being bisexual and having internilized homophobia is important to his actions and relations to others in the show, or how Angel being hypersexual is important part of his story with sex-work industry - I know hypersexuality is not a sexuality, but here too the "sexual" identity/part of a character is valid to include in understanding their psychology, do you see where I'm going?)

In regards to Alastor, nothing of sexual nature is really important to his role in the story. I don't mind anyone having fun and making any type of story they like, I do not think that is 'erasing the rep' because the ace-spectrum in itself is a spectrum and is very different for anyone, and everyone is valid.

What is erasing the rep is just making "headcanons" of his sexuality based on your own to make you feel better that you portray as factual. The reason I always say I don't mind is bcs I say the 'fun' doesn't change the show's flow. But some ppl actually do want that to happen, which is not okay.

You can't make an artist change their oc to fit your own standards. At that point, you're self-inserting.

Ppl are being as disrespectful to even harrass the VA into making a statement to explain to y'all that it ain't happening nothing will be canon and chill tf out. And then they still make the "ok no sex scene but there will be romance we have 2 more seasons to go!"

Did everyone forget Vivzie confirming Alastor will be single throughout the series after pilot or???

Not everything needs to have romance and sex in it..I understand these are important factors for ppl in general which is why I encourage everyone to make their own story, that way you have full freedom of expression to say it the way you want it to be. But expecting the show itself to change into your secific place on the ace-spectrum is just very distastefull.

Not to mention this is done only for the characters with no precisely defined sexualities, but mostly Alastor. Imagine someone going "you can't tell me Angel isn't bisexual. Look at the way he looks at Vaggie in this screenshot!" everyone would loose their shit. But for Lucifer, who is still unclearly straight/pan/bi or Alastor who is ace, ppl go "OMG AN EMPTY SPACE! OPPORTUNITY TO SELF-INSERT!" Stop. Again, how is this important to the story..

No shade to any RadioApple, RadioDust, StaticRadio, whateverRadio shippers. I myself find some of the fanart cute and I understand. But please don't try to force the idea of a non-canon dynamic you like onto every ace person irl and the show itself. That is very stupid. Make a fanfic, enjoy the show. Alastor will probably have an amazing lore in the future. He is more than his sexuality.

[kmenkea]

Bloodlust - Part 4 "A night of passion"

Summary: For the first time in days, Astarion and Leeith have an evening free from any burden; an evening they'll spend in each other's cold embrace, laying on a pretty clearing in the forest.

Content: NSFW chapter. (finally) pretty tame sex and a bit of orgasm denial/teasing (the real kinky stuff will come later, dw, I just think their relationship needs to develop more for that). Blood sucking because, you know, hot.

Please comment and tell me what you think or if you have any critiques.

Word Count: 5.5k

Read on AO3

Leeith was in charge of cooking that evening at camp. A few pans were in front of her, frying fresh water fish with a side of mushrooms and carrots. A few times already, someone had jokingly asked if poison was her people's special spice or if she could serve antidotes instead of wine and beer. She really wanted to throw some broken glass in the dinner, since that could kill everyone without it being technically poison, but she still needed her companions. No mass killings today, unfortunately. 

Besides, she wanted to enjoy eating the food she prepared: in the underdark she only had two choices, either go to a tavern where no one had ever heard of her - pretty hard since she led a group of criminals - or learn how to cook. Any other food was probably laced with poisons and it was better to starve and be safe. 

After sunset, everyone got round the campfire for dinner. They inspected their dishes and smelt them conspicuously, except for Karlach and Lae’zel, who ate without a fuss. The drow kept smiling at her companions, explaining the properties of different poisonous mushrooms they had in the underdark, but a certain sense of resentment and loneliness flared up her bile, turning into anger. Sure, she did play into the stereotypes of her people sometimes, especially against her enemies, but not once she had laid a finger against her party, except for Gale, who really only got threatened. If this was going to last much longer, filling up the food of whoever crossed her with poison would be the least she was going to do. 

She glanced at each and everyone of her companions, studying them as they drank and laughed. Few had done nothing to cross her, but it was probably just a matter of time before they too, would betray her trust in some way. It was better to be ready to act and free herself of dead weight before they’d try to cut her in half or make her head explode… or place a dagger in her throat. Astarion was staring at her from behind the fire with a knowing smirk. He wasn’t eating for obvious reasons, but still partook in conversation. 

He wasn’t trustworthy either. His personality would have fit well in the underdark, so sly and agile, the perfect backstabber. Leeith smiled back at him. He was fun though, so he would get a pass for the time being. 

The first to leave the gathering was Lae’zel, who wanted to be ready for the morning, then Shadowheart, after finishing a last cup of wine. Gale, Wyll and at last Karlach went away to take care of things in their tents. Leeith remained in front of the fire pit, readying her small alchemy set. Along with her was the vampire, who was lost with his eyes pointed up, stargazing. For a while, she ignored him, getting ingredients ready in different little pots, glancing between the notes and a small scale to weigh the right amount of herbs and oils. Only when everything was put over coals to heat up gently, did she sit beside the vampire. He noticed her presence getting closer and twisted his head to look at her. There wasn't an expression on his face, neither happiness nor rage. 

"How are you feeling, Astarion?" She crossed her legs, showing him a gentle smile. 

"I'm brooding. Nights like this are made for reliving the best moments of your life." If he was sad or genuine, she couldn't tell. 

"Don't you get enough of that in your trance?" She giggled a bit to ease the atmosphere.

"You see, my memories are not what you could call… charming, darling. But they are quite striking." He didn't seem to pay much mind to what he said, waving his hands in the air like a drama actor. Leeith shrugged: telling him to just remember other things while trancing probably wasn't the greatest advice she could give, so she was left with the next best solution after ignoring the problem.

"Want to get drunk again tonight? Properly this time. And then you can try to beat me at a knife throwing competition." She made the knife spin in the air, the blade still stained in green from some alchemy ingredient. Before she could catch it again, Astarion snatched it by the blade, pointing its handle towards her. 

"I had something better in mind." He sat up to get closer to her. His voice was lower both in tone and volume.

"And what might that be?" She returned a coy little grin, leaning towards him. 

"It's a quiet evening for once. Perfect for two people who want to take some time for themselves, if you catch my meaning." He caressed her jaw with just one finger, lingering for a few seconds on the soft flesh connecting her head and neck. "And I do mean sex, to be clear. We've been waiting long enough." He laughed, letting go of her. Leeith smirked: if it was up to her, she would have already jumped, pin him to the ground and taken her pleasures. A glance around the camp changed her mind.

"Alright, but where will we go?" She held his hand, feeling his cold skin under her thumb.

"Let's find our own little place of nowhere. Somewhere we can lose ourselves and forget all this madness." He motioned at the camp and their heads, trapping her gaze in his. The vampire reached for her shoulder, pulling her closer as if to share a secret. His lips barely grazed on her ear. "There's a secluded place nearby that should do nicely. Wait until the others are asleep, then come find me there."

"I'll see you there." She purred in his ear, tightening her grasp on his hand.

"Indeed you will, my love. I can't wait." They let go of one another, and after one last glance, they both went in different directions. Leeith returned to brew her potions, biting her lips in anticipation and daydreaming about the night to come. 

One by one, candles and torches were snuffed out, plunging the little camp they had in darkness; all shades of grey and black for the drow, but all perfectly visible up to the edges of the hill. Even her campfire had mostly died down, but she didn't care to fix it since she would be going away shortly. The drow was thinking of what they would be doing together, but had very little knowledge of what the vampire actually liked or wanted, except her blood. Even though she had many partners in her life, she was never good at reading what they wanted or preferred. Long term relationships were better for that, but those came with a long list of other problems, ones much harder to deal with. 

Even whilst laying down, she saw Astarion quietly sneak away, in a flash of white. A burst of energy ran down her spine, telling her to jump up and follow him… but it would have been funnier to let him wait, get a bit desperate and arrive just as he realised this might have all been a fluke. And so she waited, getting herself ready for him, fixing her eye liner in the mirror he used, wearing delicate jewellery and a light perfume. If she wasn't camping out in the forest, she would have worn her best underwear, something lacey and silky. The softest thing she had here was her bare skin. 

After making sure everyone was truly asleep, she went for the forest, throwing a long cloak over her shoulders. She didn't really know where this place was, but it couldn't have been too far. The drow paid close attention to any nook and cranny for a silver flash or anything alerting her of the vampire's presence, but even with that knowledge, she was surprised when he appeared right in front of her, wearing only a smile and his trousers. His slim body stood out from the darkness of the trees, almost shining as bright as the moon. He opened his arms, getting closer.

Leeith took a deep breath, letting go of all her worries and grievances for tonight. She wasn't going to let anything spoil her fun: only the gods knew when another moment of respite was going to come and she didn't want to ruin what could have very well been her last one. She bit her lip, feeling a certain tingling sensation build up in her lower abdomen. 

"There you are, I've been waiting. Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you." With each word he took one small step closer, filling her vision with his presence. "Waiting to have you." He smelled of citrus and rosemary cologne.

"Mhh, you don't have me yet." She smirked, taking one small step backwards. His words were so inviting for the occasion: picture perfect, as if he knew exactly what everyone wanted to hear. He was going to need a bit more effort than that. 

"Don't I? You're here. And, I don't think you want to talk." He lifted his eyebrow in a knowing gaze. "I think you want to be known, to be tasted." His voice turned low and silky, while a hand reached up for her chin, raising it to have a better look. 

"And what do you want?" She reached up to intertwine their fingers, feeling the skin of his hand, every little scar and wrinkle. It was cold like the night, but as soft as autumn air.

"What does everyone want? Pleasure. Yours. Mine. Our collective ecstasy." In a rush, he grabbed both of her hands, placing a kiss on each of them, and then on the wrist, running his lips upwards the inner part of the forearm. Leeith was pleasantly surprised by all this fanfare: she was expecting a much more… detached approach to the night: lay on the ground, have fun for some time and be on their way. She wasn't expecting the vampire to still court her.

"Isn't that what you want? To lose yourself in me?" He tensed up as if he was afraid of something, maybe being rejected again, thought the drow. Leeith rolled her eyes at all this cloying sweetness and, with a smirk, unclasped the pin holding her cape. The woollen cloth fell at her feet with a soft thud, revealing her naked body, covered only in a few golden chains. 

The vampire raised an eyebrow, looking at her from head to toe and back: he was surprised, but certainly content with how things were going. Without another moment lost to talk, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. Leeith shivered when their naked chests met: she expected heat, what any partner had offered her, but this was closer to hugging a soft marble column. Not that it mattered now, as she crossed her arms above his shoulders, pulling him down towards her. 

His lips were soft and the drow could feel his fangs pressing on her. She grabbed his face, pushing herself closer, so that he'd open his mouth. The taste of his tongue, of his teeth, it was so metallic, like iron and copper. She liked it, and went ahead to twist their tongues together. 

The vampire wasn't going to stand there and take it passively. His hands ran down to her hips, feeling the curve of her bottom, his fingers sank into the soft flesh of her thighs and then swiftly he lifted her high. The drow gasped when she suddenly lost the ground from below her feet, looking down with a smile. The elf pushed her against a tree; The bark was rough against her back, but she had worse in the past; a few scratches weren’t going to intimidate her. 

Astarion kissed her again, but it was just a small peck, enough to have all of the attention back to him. “I’ve got more cards up my sleeve.” He caught her gaze and went for her mouth, clinging to her warm body, pushing himself ever closer. Leeith locked her legs tighter, not because she was afraid to slip, but to feel all of him. His hard muscles, tensed from lifting her, the little scars all over his back, from ancient battles or… something worse probably. No reason to think about that now and bring down the mood. 

No, what she was concentrating on was much more appealing, firing her mind with images and possibilities. With her legs so tight around his hips, she could feel his hard length pressing on her core. It must have been painful to have it so constricted, but it was even more painful for her to feel it rub against her clit, sparking a faint pleasure that inflamed her, rising so slowly it almost annoyed her. She was greedy and already wanted a lot more than just some kisses and his hands groping her ass. 

She planted both her feet on the tree behind her and pushed them. Astarion lost his balance, stumbled back a few steps, and fell down on the cold grass. The drow lunged on top of him like a feral beast, placing her hands at either side of his head. Her short hair cascaded in front of her face, wild like the look on her eyes. She grinned and bit her lip, admiring Astarion below her. His curls were a bit less perfect and his face had a tinge of shock. It disappeared in an instant, as he grabbed her hips and forced her to sit down on him. She tasted iron and copper again, as they both claimed each other’s mouth. 

And then the vampire raised his hips, rubbing his length on her and earning a small moan. Leeith felt so turned on: she didn’t know if it was the fact she hadn’t fucked in so long or if she just wanted him that much, but she was sure her pussy had started to throb and claim more. She sat up, panting and licking her lips. If it was any normal man, the drow would have already tied his hands up, slashed his trousers and pants and taken her pleasures. Any male drow would have been more than fine with that and she wouldn’t care about a surface dweller, but the vampire was another problem: whips and ropes or any other fun tool were probably out of the picture. She took one deep breath to calm herself, then grabbed his right hand, gently raising it up. 

“Is there anything you don’t like, Astarion? What is it that you don’t want me to do?” Her thumb again went to feel his skin, slowing the pace of their act. 

“Darling, if I’m bedding a drow it is because I want it wild and risky. Where’s all the energy from earlier, mh?” He tightened his grip on her hips and tried to push her to the side, but she stood her ground and smiled gently. Leeith broke eye contact to look at her finger following the wrinkles of his palm, caressing them gently. 

“I don’t want you to pull out any dagger or weapon - except the ones in your pants and mouth, to be clear - nor cast any spells without asking.” She locked her eyes on his again. His expression had mellowed out, from a cocky and pompous one, to serious and huffed. “Show a blade anywhere near the vicinity of me, and I’ll be the one to blast your body against a tree.” He took a few seconds to answer, his hand following the line of her thigh down to the ground. 

“I- I don’t want you to pose as my mistress or owner.” There was pain in his voice, but an instant later his defences were up again and all the sorrow was hidden behind a snarky smirk. “Like asking a fish not to swim, I know. Woe is you, little drow.” He chuckled and, this time with more force, managed to get back up on top of her. Leeith laughed, letting him take control. 

Astarion was gently following the curves of her body, avoiding the many little scars that punctuated it. His soft touch made her shiver when he reached the waist, yet his fingers kept creeping downwards, past her navel, threatening to give her pleasure at any moment. She needed that, but she wanted something else before, something that could make the whole night a lot more magical.

The drow raised his head by the chin, and with just a smile, freed her neck from any hair, exposing the puncture scars. 

“Why don’t you take something? A little boost of energy for the night.” He stopped dead in his tracks, travelling back up with both his eyes and head, up to her face. He pressed his cock back between her legs, making her just imagine what would await. Without a second thought, Leeith crossed her limbs behind his back, pulling him even closer to grind on him. The faint pleasure made her pussy drool and protest, growing more and more uncomfortable. 

“You’re such a delectable little pet.” He huffed, ravaging her neck with kisses and tiny little bites. Astarion lifted her head up to give himself more space and, an instant later, the bite arrived, along the mind twirling, ravishing pain that came with it. The drow loudly moaned, arching her back as her blood flew in his mouth. She grasped at his locks and shoulders, needing something to keep her stable while he sucked on her skin. 

God it felt so good! The blood turned him on fire, it seemed like it would give him the energy to do all that he wanted the whole night. He felt his trousers grow way too tight and uncomfortable, so much so that, while still attached to her neck like a tick, he had to kick them off. Their souls were meeting and just as he grew more and more excited, she followed, no doubt feeding on each other's desire. The vampire’s hand cupped one of her breasts, twisting and squeezing her nipple harshly. She whined and moaned, sinking her nails in his back and raising her hips, rubbing her wetness on his now uncovered boner, almost able to catch the tip, slide it deep inside them and finally free them. She already wanted to give in, to pierce her wet cunt and fill her with his cum by the end.

He never had a woman be that needy below him: desperately clinging to him for any amount of pleasure, wetting his cock so much, without it even being inside, and above all, pushing his head on her neck to suck more. For a moment it felt… nice. But it was fleeting. 

The connection broke and her body went limp, tired. Dizziness overtook him and he knew he had his fill. It was the time to respect his part of the deal. 

His tongue ran up on her neck, still bloodied and red, trying to clean as much as possible. Leeith was more than burning. She needed to get her legs spread and cunt filled instantly. She cupped his cheeks, not caring about the blood running down her shoulders and breasts, and forced their lips together. She had to agree, as their tongues danced together, fresh blood was delicious, but like a savoury broth, not honeyed wine. 

His hands were running everywhere on her, sometimes caressing her, giving her shivers, others clenching and twisting, holding her down by the waist or pinching her thighs and ass. His tongue trailed down from her lips back to her neck, following the droplets of blood past her collarbones and on her breasts. The drow bit her lips as he started to play with her nipples, twisting it around his tongue and suckling the blood that had run off. She stared at him half lidded, running her nails on his back, feeling his bumps and scars. Her hands went down to his crotch, feeling the lower part of his abdomen with her thumbs. She tried to get closer to his manhood, but the vampire stopped her, pinning her wrist to the ground. 

“Just relax and let me take over, darling.” He whispered in between kisses and soft bites. “My debts are way overdue.” 

Astarion’s fingers began caressing her inner thighs, up and down, each time getting closer to her core. They traced the outside of her lips, making Leeith squirm and moan in anticipation. But every time he’d get near, he would remain just shy of her clit, instead biting harder on her nipple, so that she’d feel his fangs leaning on her flesh. 

“Stop- teasing me, elf.” She said, annoyed at how long it was taking to get to the main course. The elf lifted his head and stared at her smirking. At once, his fingers went deep, down to the knuckle, and then out, swiping upwards and flicking her clit on the way. She yelped in surprise, melting under his touch. All the displeasure though returned, when he stared at his shining fingers against the moonlight. 

“But I enjoy teasing so much. How else would I be able to get you this wet?” He kissed her jaw, then started whispering. “Gods, how can you be so aroused? Is it all because of me, mh, pet?” He fingered her again, this time taking his time to explore all of her folds, putting only the softest of pressures. Her pussy was so slick, as he went up and down it, circling her clit, then inserting just the tip of his fingers, enough to coat the rest of her in juices. Leeith tried to ease her muscles, to relax and drown in the pleasure. She shut her eyes, concentrating on his motions. With every circle he went just a bit deeper, a bit faster, until one of his slender fingers was deep in her, touching the sensitive mound inside of her. She moaned when he added another finger, all the while still taking care of her breasts. His fingers curled and cut, feeding the flames. 

“Astarion.” She whimpered. Her hands were shaking, but she grabbed his head all the same, to look in his eyes. “I want more. I want you to- fuck me properly.” She tried to keep her voice steady and assertive, but it was hard while the vampire fingered her so frantically and her skin was covered in goosebumps. Astarion just smiled, and added another finger to the mix. The drow threw her head back and tried clenching her thighs, but Astarion was firmly in the middle. 

“You squirm so gorgeously, darling. But I am an understanding man.” He took away all of his fingers, leaving her cunt to clench around nothing. “You just have to say the magic little word.” His hands went back to roam about her skin, while he better positioned himself between her legs. Gods, she could feel his hard cock swipe up and down her slit, barely pressing in her entrance, just to move up again. She couldn’t help but grind her hips a little. She felt her pride torn to shreds for being in this position under not only a man, but a surface elf at that. Lolth would have not looked at her kindly. But he was a vampire, so maybe he had to get a pass. 

“Ugh… Please.” She bit her lips and furrowed her brow, but her reddened cheeks still gave away her arousal and loosening conviction. 

“Mh? What did you say?” The vampire pushed her hips down to the ground, so that she couldn’t move anymore, removing even the little bit of respite that came from grinding on him.

“Please, I would like to get fucked now, blood sucker.” She huffed, pulling him closer by the waist.

“Tks, still a bit too feisty, but I can work on that.” Astarion spread her legs apart, sliding his cock on her wet folds, stirring small shivers of pleasure in the drow. The tip of his dick tested her entrance. There was some resistance, as the tight walls of her cunt adjusted to him. Leeith whimpered against his ear: She knew he was big and she hadn’t had any fun in a while, but didn’t expect it to feel so… shattering, almost unable to fit. He slowed down, moaning for how tightly his girth was being swallowed. 

“You’re not a virgin, are you?” The question puzzled the drow. 

“Uh? I mean, I can act as one. I’ve heard virgin blood tastes better.” She chuckled, crossing her legs above his back and arms behind his nape. 

He closed the gap between their faces and bit her lower lip, enough to draw blood with his fangs. “You’re already delicious enough” He purred. 

With all doubts cast aside, he slammed himself down on her. She saw stars and arched her back, yelping in surprise. That didn’t stop the vampire, who simply bit her lip again, the taste of blood reinvigorating his cock. He pulled out slowly, making her feel every inch of his dick leaving her body. And then she had to endure as he pushed his length back in her, down to the hilt. A few tears left from the side of her eyes, as she bit her hand, the pleasure coursing through her. But he was still toying with her, probably enjoying how her thighs clenched around him and her walls pulsed around his girth. The drow raised her hips to meet him and pushed him inside with her legs. Astarion grinned and pressed his thumb on her clit. 

“Alright alright. I’ll quit the games. Just don’t start crying when it gets too much.” His voice dropped to a husky tone, whilst his free hand pinned her wrist on the ground. 

“Be glad I’m not the one riding you.” She moaned back, urging him to move. Without a second thought, he began thrusting in and out of her, one hand at the side of her head for support, the other pleasuring her clit in tempo with his motions. She moaned and grappled him closer, raising her hips to give him a better angle. Judging by all the noises her pussy was making, she must have been a wet mess, drooling all over his thick, long cock. It was reaching deep in her, stretching her walls and filling every sensitive crevice. His pace was constant and steady, fast enough to pleasure the both of them without getting overwhelming. The pace of an expert, who had done this again and again. His thumb circled around her clit, never giving it a moment to rest, keeping Leeith's entire body locked in pleasure.

Her voice grew higher and her hands went everywhere on his body, now slightly warm thanks to the fresh blood coursing through. His cock felt the warmest, still pumping relentlessly, pushing further and further, breaking each and every barrier. The drow trebled in pleasure, feeling a weight raising in her core. It was very hard to keep herself from digging her nails into his flesh.

She opened her eyes and playfully bit his neck, wanting to also leave a purple bruise on his perfect ivory skin and hear a moan or groan escape from his closed lips. Astarion didn't react, his eyes lost somewhere deep in his mind. Leeith cupped his cheek, gently caressing his smooth face . 

"Are you alright?" She whispered. Maybe he was just concentrating on his thrusts. The vampire looked down, dumbfounded at first, then smirking. 

"How could I not be, darling?" He sat up, trailing his hands on her thighs, down to the ankles. "I think we both just need a little bit more excitement." with that he lifted both her legs on his shoulders and tugged her closer, hitting his thighs with her buttocks. 

“Gods, I love where this is goin- ahh!” she was interrupted by him plunging his cock back inside of her, thumb back on her clit and ramming in her like nothing had ever happened. Her cunt was quick to fire up again, clenching around his boner even harder than before. The sensation of being full, the pleasure stemming from her insides and coating her brain in a soft, fluffy glaze. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest and her blood rush through her ears. The vampire’s hands were rough on her, one relentlessly pleasuring her, the other sinking in her flesh, reddening it. Her noises were uncontrollable, no matter how hard she bit her lip or covered her mouth with her hands; she decided not to even care, moaning and calling for gods like her life depended on it.

The pleasure was so deep, always shy of touching her cervix and hurting her, but pounding her sweet spot again and again. With each thrust, some juices left her, drooling down her ass. With each thrust, the weight in her core built up, as if more and more chains were locking it.

She admired Astarion, who was looking down at her legs, preoccupied with his motion. Even him though, no matter how hard he was trying, judging by his furrowed brow, couldn't contain his moans and groans much longer. The more her pussy squeezed his cock, the less thin his lips became, until they finally parted and a moan escaped them, followed by a sigh of relief. His thumb pressed harder on her clit, circling and flicking it vigorously, not a second to rest and let her come down from the high. 

Leeith was trying to meet his thrusts, while she held his hands, just gently following them. The closer she got to her orgasm, the harder it was to concentrate and move at the same pace, her hips rolling quicker, in an effort to release sooner. Astarion steadied them, but even he was getting more sensitive. The chains in Leeith’s core grew and grew, but the lock was finally getting undone. Her pussy throbbed and squeezed hard around his cock, wanting to keep him in. It was amazing he still managed to move inside of that clamp. 

“Astarion-” She breathed out at last, clenching his forearm. “Keep going… I- I’m about to come.” She loosened her muscles, ready to let herself reach her peak. 

“Oh, I don’t fucking think so.” He almost growled. He grabbed both of her wrists, pushing them above her head. He leaned in on her, bringing her legs down with him. “You’re holding on until I am ready.” He spanked her ass before squeezing it. “And then I’ll want to hear you beg.” The drow chuckled and held his head with her free hand. 

“Now it’s getting good, blood-sucker!” She forced his mouth open, crashing their faces together. His hips were completely lost, the urge to come making them erratic and brutal. He was ramming her without any care in the world, plunging his cock balls deep. If a few minutes ago he was trying to carefully pick her locks, now his desire was just that of smashing the door down. She was dangerously close to coming, but so was him for how much his cock throbbed. 

“Ast-arion… may I?” She whispered directly in his ear, breathy and low. It sent shivers down his spine, his cock hardening and ready to burst. 

“Come for me, pet.” He groaned. He glanced at her neck, still crimson with blood. He couldn’t resist. 

Leiiths felt his fags sink deep. The pain overwhelmed her just as much as the pleasure did, all in one moment. She shut her eyes, blood rushing to her ears and to her shoulder. Someone called his name right in his ear. An overwhelming pleasure consumed him as the drow tensed and squirmed under him. He could feel her come around his aching length, squeezing the life out of him like a succubus. The blood spilled into his mouth, coating it like a syrup, breathing life into his long dead lungs and heart. For just an instant, he felt his heart flutter alive. An instant later, he moaned: bliss, the most he had ever felt in two hundred years, finally saturated his body, making his muscles shake and tremble. He sank both his fangs and his cock more in her, as he came, filling her with his thick, warm cum, just as he was drinking her scarlet, sanguine liquor. Their brains were fuzzy and inebriated. Their pleasure mixing and multiplying against each other.  At the end, his muscles gave in, falling on her, cock still throbbing gently. She was warm and soft. 

The drow panted, her fingers caressing Astarion’s back gracefully. It seemed like he didn’t want to move away from her. The drow tapped his shoulder, wanting to shift to the side: now that it was calm, she discovered soreness in her back and the weight wasn't helping. Fortunately the elf rolled to the ground, extending his arms to the sides like a snow angel. Without asking, she rested her head on his forearm, gaining a weird glace from the vampire. In all answer, she extended her own arm, sliding it behind his head. 

Her cheeks were still flushed, giving them a purplish hue when mixed with her blue skin. 

"It's much better than bare earth, no?" She smiled.

[itslouisan]

Headcannons: Urahara Kisuke

Heyo tumblr, for anyone that knows me it's no surprise I love this dork and have a slight bleach hyperfocus (not slight at all, thanks Philza for getting me onto it). And Urahara is probably my favorite character, not only in bleach, but in fiction, I do have a sort of list of characters I love in general and he is on number 6 in a list of 262 characters. So needless to say I got A LOT of hc of him.

Note: yes you can count some of them for C!Philza, bc I'm silly and Phil def got some inspiration writing wise.

Also thanks to @saranel (which is one of my fav blogs bleach wise even though it has no updates in AGES) since she inspires a lot of my headcannons and analysis for Kisuke.

Without further delay, let's get into it.

These headcannons are a bit all over the place but I talk a lot about science related stuff (but I do plan on making a separate post ONLY about scientist Kisuke, more specifically MAD scientist Kisuke) it's a bit of everything so enjoy

• First of all, Kisuke is a person with trust issues, this is obvious considering how he acts towards others during the series, but even more so when you notice we've never been shown his lab, room or any interiors that he spends a lot of time on aside from the shop, which makes me think he never lets ANYONE inside. The only exception being Yoruichi, Tessai, Ururu and Jinta. After all, they are the closest thing he has of family (a found family if you will), and spaces such as his room and lab are too personal, a place where he put his soul and time onto, not only to feel comfortable but bc is where he can hide from the outside and focus on his projects and curiosity without worrying about others or being too vulnerable.

• His lab is quite neat normally, but, when he gets IN THE ZONE. He definitely has a messy lab, coffee cups, snacks (if he even cares about eating), papers, components, materials, and everything scattered, probably has a futon laid on the floor (which Kisuke didn't want to place, it was Tessai worried for his friend's health since HE WAS SLEEPING UNDERNEATH THE TABLE OR IN THE CHAIR FOR *DAYS OR EVEN WEEKS*) which has some plushie and pillows and a single blanket, prob has a ton of books in the tables too and in general a messy place that only makes to him

• Kisuke IS a clingy sleeper, Yoruichi can't escape when they are together sharing the same bed since he clings onto her like a pale octopus, or a claw arcade machine and with a bear tight grip. So he def owns a couple of plushies or soft pillows for hugging when he can't have her near this way he doesn't feel alone

• Kisuke definitely spends some time searching about random science facts, experiments and so on, I like to think while he is smart, he is more smart towards technology,human mind wise and battle wise science fields, so he tends to search more about those specific topics in depth, being a poison master.

• Due to his passion for science, he started collecting books, rare documents and archives, rare samples of experiments, things like specific components still in development and so on, and keeps it all in a secret place in his lab

• Sexuality and gender wise, I view Kisuke as either bi or pan, he definitely experimented a bit of everything and that included different gendered partners and he found out he likes it, so yeah. Gender wise, Urahara in at least japanese uses non-binary but also female speech, which made me think perhaps he would be interested in crossdressing but also that he falls into the category of a man who doesn't care or want to fit the male stereotypes and expectations, plus probably wouldn't care THAT much for gender, so you can say either he is a cis man that only vibes with feminine stuff, or he is agender (which I like a lot), hell you can go as far to say he could even be genderfluid.

But in a resume so I don't make a whole ass post about this: pan or bi, agender or just feminine man.

• Video game nerd, BUT MORE IMPORTANT, A NINTENDO STAN. I view that his favorite Nintendo franchises would be Zelda and Mario, hell maybe he would even cosplay Link

• he totally went NUTS when Minecraft was released (considering bleach takes place in 2002 in the beginning so...yep) and def loves to play Minecraft (cof cof Philza) in his free time, would make a server for everyone to join, be a redstone nerd and only play in hardcore or in super modded servers.

• He would absolutely LOVE to make complex farms that break EVERY SINGLE LIMIT in the game scripts, plus make builds that take AGES to make and call it simple, plus he'd love the game since it's a great way to teach the kids stuff and practice everyone's creativity while hanging around in a fun way

• Would get famous in Karakura due to being a REALLY good player in any types of videogames, but then would brush it off as "just a hobby" to make kids feel better and keep trying to improve (while maybe selling merch in the shop to improve in the games.)

• When he came to the human world, he became CRAZY for coffee, he likes it pure black, no sugar, sometimes adds cream but that's it

• Loves to watch announcements of new technologies and discuss how he could improve them, or how he is impressed by how far they are coming, plus he loves 64 and 32 bits but was MARVELED at the first 3D he saw like a Nintendo 64 type or 3D and couldn't stop talking about "how realistic" it was getting and how he is excited for the future of technology

• He isn't a programmer, but I think he has knowledge of how to code stuff, I could imagine if he needed to expand his store or be away for too long or be needed in 2 different places, I can imagine Kisuke coding an 64 bits version of himself to welcome people to the store, kinda like a recording or prototype ai to talk with people about certain things while he is away and it would be a lot of different screens with different dialog and functions

• Loves to paint his nails and would make the craziest designs and show it off to everyone, but his to go nails are either:

A- plain black

B- green and white nails matching his hat

• I'm 100% convinced he owns multiple pairs of the same clothing. I'm talking like straight up 50 hats, same samue, same pants, same geta, SAME EVERYTHING. AND HE WILL POUT AND GET MAD IF FORCED TO CHANGE.

• autism codded. That's all I'm saying

• Probably a fan of metal music, baby metal too, hell he'd be CRAZY about vocaloid and his favorite would be Miku, Vflower and Len (perhaps kaito too)

• He is a big fan of going to temples to talk about the history of the place, how religion shaped the culture in Japan, why each temple is special, and despite being an atheist (and proud of it) he prob bought one or two fans from their gift shops because he finds them extra pretty and detailed

Well that's probably it for today, you can ask me anything about Urahara or bleach characters in general and I'll go bonkers with it and answer in the most complex way possible, so yeah, see ya chat

[ae-azile]

In your latest Progression chapter I loved how Namphueng did the cake announcing her sexual identity. It was such great idea and now I wonder what other characters would make as the same cake? What are others sexualities/sexual identities? Do they identify somehow other than gay? Kinn and Chay are gays but what about others? Is Porsche bi or pan? What about Tankhun and Arm? Also Kim expressed somehow being genderfluid and he is definitely demisexual or grey asexual. I think it would be extremely interesting for all of them to have some kind of discussion like that.

Namphueng loved her cake too LOL. She was very proud of it. I spent a while thinking of how the cake would look. While I couldn't find a cake that described what I wanted her to do, I did look up some reference pics for inspiration. Here are several that kind of fit some aspects of the style!

If you mix the aspects of these cakes all together, you sort of get what Namphueng accomplished. Girl worked HARD. It was so important to her because:

1. She remembers her first love, or at least bits and pieces. She remembers loving her deeply. I think creating a cake so elaborate and more suited for a small wedding was her way of committing to her true self, along with finding the woman she loved and clearly still loves.

2. She may have struggled with being her true self or being open about her relationship first time around. She isn't doing it anymore because every bit of her autonomy and happiness was kept from her.

So, yes! In Progression, Namphueng very much identifies as a lesbian. As for the other characters, some are probably up for interpretation, but I guess this is how I view them (at least for this fic).

Kim: I also see him as demisexual or sex positive ace. I think he is enjoying sex with Chay. A LOT. But he can only come to enjoy sex if he is in love with and feels comfortable with the person he is sleeping with. Since he struggles with being so guarded, Chay is his first. I think his romantic orientation is likely panromantic, but his trauma and seeing so many people in his family get hurt/killed likely made him push the idea of romance away for a long time.

As for the potential for him being gender fluid, I don't think it is something he feels like he needs to find a label for, but wouldn't deny it if asked. I think he does certain things and presents himself in a way that feels right. He likely leans towards more masculine presentations, but likes light makeup on occasion, doesn't align with overt masculinity or societal expectations for men, etc. I think he also likes looking good for himself, and sometimes looking softer and slightly more feminine is something that appeals to him.

Overall, I believe he struggles with labels for multiple reasons. He doesn't like following traditional or strict expectations, nor is he great at communicating clearly (although he is getting a lot better). I think he also falls into this limbo in between labels, so he doesn't know what to make of it. He struggles with seeing himself as asexual (especially now) since he is having a very enjoyable sex life with Chay. He should probably should look into demisexual. I think it will be something that eventually comes up, even though he doesn't feel a NEED to find a label. However, an explanation and a sense of knowing he isn't the only one may help. 🙂

Porsche: I think he is probably pan, but could also be bi. Episode 8 showed him express minor anxiety over dating a guy, although I don't know if it was the emotional or physical aspect that worried him more. Regardless, I tend to categorize him a little more as pan since that tends to take a meaning of "experiences sexual attraction regardless of gender". However, I also see him as demiromantic.

Khun: Despite his and Kim's personalities being extremely different, I also see him as demisexual, panromantic. Part of his demisexuality likely stems from immense trauma since he needs to be with someone who understands him and he's comfortable with, but I don't think the gender of that person matters. In fics, I often mention him having a girlfriend prior to his kidnapping. I believe I did in this fic too. Now, he's very much in love with Arm. And like Kim, he also might be gender fluid, but doesn't over think it and just does what feels right.

Arm: He's a hard one, but he could be demisexual too, and he may lean towards homoromantic. That isn't to say he doesn't like to be seductive though. He takes his shirt off when drunk for a reason. However, I do think he was repressing a lot of desires until he became more comfortable with Khun. So yeah, maybe demisexual/homoromantic.

Pol: He says he's straight! But I also think he is a guy who needs and deserves a lot of love. I don't see him hooking up with just any woman or being in a FWB situation. He is probably heteroromantic, but does find a lot of satisfaction in platonic love too.

Vegas: gay, but demiromantic.

Pete: demisexual, biromantic

Macau: He's saying he's straight in this fic, but I don't see him sleeping around like his brother likely used to.

Kinn and Chay : gay and gay

Milan's sexual and romantic orientation will also become more clear in flashbacks as well.

Thank you for the ask! 🩵

[pan-but-meh-pt2]

I'll be honest... I haven't really played this game in a while, and I'm still very early in the game 😅😅😅. HOWEVER, I STILL HAD THIS POST MADE, AND IT WOULD BE RUDE NOT TO SHARE! So, enjoy!

Once again will be talking about the length, width, hair, and how they look overall

Warning: Dick talk. Spicy spicy

Credits to game for pictures

Part two:

7 Brothers

Lucifer

... No one come for me, but he ain't my favorite, I'M SORRY

However, not my favorite he may be, he had a GLORIOUS dick!

And this boy is a demon, so he's larger then these human boys

For your sake, I'll say he's 11 maximum (won't go above that for anyone, apologies)

The width is above average, and VEINY, VEINY, VEINY!!

There's one very prominent one that goes around the underside from left to right

And, this is Lucifer, he is very well trimmed down there, little to no hair

Overall, very nice

Mammon

Here comes the-BOY, hEILO BOY wElcOmE, thErE hE iS!

But anyway, second born is next, Mammon!

So, I'll start right off that it is 100% pierced

Which one? Any and all

But for me personally I like to think he has a Jacobs ladder, a magic cross, and a public, either that or a prince albert and deep shaft

Point is HE'S GOT A FEW!!

Now the length is an 8 or 10.5, no in betweens

The width is actually pretty average, like slightly above it to give a good stretch but not rip you in half, ya know?

He is also a bit veiny, and has multiple going across it

It also fades into like a deep red, but the tip is more blushy red then the rest

As for said tip, slightly wider then the dick

Hair is... There, definitely

HE KEEPS IT CLEAN THO AND EVEN HAS A TRAIL, BUT LIKE, he keeps a bit to much

Blinged out for sure, 10/10

Leviathan

SNAKE BOY OTAKU, I LOVE YOU, MUAH

And I'll get right into it, speaking of snake...

• Yeah, he has 2 dicks, no questions asked I WILL STAND BY IT, UNTIL THE DAY I-hit over head with pan and knocks out

Uhm, anyway, the dicks look the same, but one is wider than the other

Now length is about 8.5 minimum

The widths, like I said, one is larger than the other, and they're both above average in width so.... Yeah, it might rip you in half 😅

The hair is there and not as bad as you think!

True, it's not the cleanest there is, but it's not a bush!

Side note this is solely for simping purposes but what if it was tattooed with a snake wrapping around them, ok bai

Satan

Hehehheeh, this is gonna be fun

I'll say he's, oh, about 11 inches... Same as Lucifer... For reasons 😁

Unlike Lucifer, he has an ombre to pale pink, with the tip being a darker shade of pink, not red though

For width he's actually pretty skinny, but not like a stick, ya know?

Also VERY veiny, ya feel me? It's just buldg-knocked out again

Ugh, what?

Oh, uh, anyway

Tip is actually a bit wider the rest of the dick

Whoever gets to use it is very lucky

Asmodeus

HE'S SO HANDSOME, OH MY GOD!!!!!!!

Personally, I would let him use me ANY day!

But that's not what I'm here to talk about,

I'm here to talk about his glorious dick

But.... It can change shape so..... Yeah, enjoy more of my personal opinions

First off, pierced, prince Albert all the way, just for aesthetics and because he knows it would feel better, and it's rose gold, cause again, aesthetics

Secondly, he can change it to fit anyone's needs, but he can't go smaller than 4 inches or larger than 12 (8 is usually where he is)

Thirdly, the width.

"I like them skinny and scrawny." "Skinny and scrawny?" "Skinny and scrawny" but again, it can change shape, just for just himself he'll be slightly skinny

It is a very nice ombre of skin to pink to dark pink, not just the tip being dark pink, it's an ombre

The hair is obviously well trimmed, because he knows how to take care of himself unlike some people

But... He has a trail, because he knows people think it's hot

HE IS JUST SO DAMN FINE AND HE KNOWS IT AND WE KNOW IT AND JUST AHHHHHHH-

Beelzebub

Now I know I said I wouldn't go above 11 inches.... But for this man I have to, he's like 12, veiny, and HELLA thick!!

And when I sat thick I mean can and will hurt during penetration even after prepping

And for the veins there are two very prominent ones, one that spirals underneath from one side to the other, and another that is just straight on top

The color is a very nice vibrant red most of the time, the tip slightly darker too

Speaking of!

The tip is actually the same width as the rest of it becauseifitwasn'titwouldbreakus

...Onto the hair

Now there is a good bit down there, just bordering on being a bush, but it's not from him not shaving! He just grows hair very fast

But on the plus side... That means a bit of a trail

That v line be hella deep-BONK

Belphegor

Hello other twin 🙃

Let's get started by saying he's 10 inches, no arguments, he just gives off that vibe???

He's also skinny, but will still stretch you in the best way

Throughout his dick is a pale pink while the tip is a bright blushy pink Also the tip is slightly larger than the rest of it

Somewhat veiny

And now the hair....it's a bush

Not even an attractive one, and it's from a lack of care unlike his twin

Part two:

~~~~~~~~~~

I hope you enjoyed these head cannons! Inbox is open and you are free to ask or request for certain series from my dash! Enjoy the moment! 🥰

[iocainesmoothie]

Been playing ffxiv, paid to skip HW but really enjoyed stormblood, saw emet-selch for the first time.

I'm very impressed that his first introduction to the player was to be shot and rag dolled down the stairs, it immediately differentiates him from the other ascians who just say ominous and vague nonsense that never amounts to anything. It was almost more sinister, because it really illustrates the point that the ascians are noncorporeal horrors piloting a meat puppet.

Also very minor detail but I noticed even back in stormblood, instead of writing a boring talk quest as "go talk to so-and-so", instead they say "go meet SOMEONE at such-and-such place". Like it's so very minor, but instead of straight up telling me who you're going to meet they just sorta hint and say how excited that person is to see you again.

Mechanically it's the exact same boring quest format, and maybe I don't otherwise even care about that character, but even that tiny bit of speculating who it is and the implication that they have any kind of emotional response AT ALL is already elevating the writing.

I get the majority of quest text boils down to telling the player to go to X or talk to Y or collect Z and there's only so many ways to do that, and clarity of communication is always top priority, but in something long format like an mmo where the player has likely plugged in a hundred hours already you can kinda assume they've been trained to expect a certain order of events and can play with the format a bit.

Also the last duty of sb was one of those "everyone shows up at the big battle as npcs and cheers at you to go on to the big boss while they hold back reinforcements" fights and it's very anime but honestly it always works on me.

Been leveling up dark knight, but I bought the level 80 warrior boost because I hate playing with other people and I wanted to solo a bunch of the main scenario raids instead of queueing. Also I'm playing dark knight because aesthetics, and tanking for a group is too much responsibility for me.

Honestly dk kinda sucks compared to paladin and warrior, way less mitigation and self healing, and though it feels like I'm doing more damage it's still not as much as a pure dps.

Also bought a bunch of clothes on the shop in a moment of weakness, but now my outfit is so cool I don't want to change into anything else! And I kinda miss wearing vanilla gear and seeing your outfit change as you pick up upgrades. Oh well atleast I'm cute and it avoids those awkward moments when a piece from a new set doesn't fit with your current fit.

Ffxiv clothing designs are so gorgeous, even the shitty low-level vanilla garbage is kinda cute. Ppl who buy store stuff obviously look good but I have way more respect for the glamours I see where people just got really creative with in-game items. The graphics are like 10 years out of date but the hair and clothes and faces are still miles better than some of biowares stuff (guys I love you I'm on your side let's figure this out you can't just make everyone bald)

Also I've noticed the cuts scene cameras do a trick anime does a lot to cut down animation costs, the framing and panning and angles do a LOT of the work when they otherwise can't get these limited models to emote that much. Or else they just fully cut away and let a sound effect imply an action took place and your brain just fills in the difference.

Anyway I'm addicted and am probably wasting a lot of time on things I should be doing instead but it's nice to have something to hyper fixate on for a while, and I haven't even started SB or EW and I've heard they're both life changing so maybe I'll just glut myself until I've wrung all the dopamine I can out of it.

Also I've realized there is such a jump in writing quality in SB that I'm only really emotionally attached to lyse and hien and the general, the rest of the scions are all kind of... idk unlikable?? They're all the same kind of snarky but not really funny, and speak intelligently but not really with any character or having much to say. Allisae being maybe the exception but I feel like she doesn't get much screen time compared to her brother.

It was very touching that she's the tough prickly one, but very honestly tells you she feels alone and sadly asks you not to leave her in a moment of vulnerability before the fight where she reaches for your hand desperately before her soul is teleported away. Like damn yeah this is manipulative but you got me! I'm invested now!

Also that little crystal cat boy was in arr and I never finished/paid attention to his quest line so idk how he ended up i SB, guess I'll find out.

[dustymagpie]

Wembley

Name: Wembley. This is not their birth name. As they experimented with their gender expression, they changed their name to fit how they were choosing to express themselves. He has used quite a few different ones over the years and eventually stuck with his current one. He doesn't use his family name to remain "mysterious" (or so he says). Born: 21st January 2050, 27 as of 2077 Nationality: American of very mixed descent, the most prominent being Irish and Indian, but the family is from all over. Pronouns: They/them or he/him, but any is tolerable.  Sexuality: They've never given it much thought, bi or pan would fit them.  Gender: It's complicated. AFAB and spent their youth and teen years trying out different ways to express their gender. They never found anything that felt like it really fit them. By their late teens they stopped being so bothered by it, these days they'll just give a shrug of their shoulders when asked.  Parents: Divorced but still very good friends. Mother lives in Night City and manages an art gallery. Father lives on the East Coast and is a graphic designer. They all try to meet up a few times a year at least. Both are artistic (and do not have names because I suck at names!) Siblings: One younger sister, Sera.  Romantic partner: They have never bothered putting a label on it, but they have been with Scott Dodd since their late teens. It's very much an open relationship, allowing them to both sleep with other people. But he is the only one Wembley calls home.  Friends: cliché, but he thinks of Sera as his best friend. He is also close with Richard Ripper. Richard started as a client, then a fuck buddy, then after an incident, they became actual friends (who still fuck on occasion). Hobbies: Like the rest of his family, they are an artist. Their preferred medium is mixed media and things that are more three-dimensional in nature.  Job: Hairdresser. They do your usual cut and blow dries (and if they like you maybe even a cut and blowjob) and they also do artistic pieces with hair for magazines and the catwalk.  Notable features: A near permanent pout and a prominent nose. His cybernetic hand has a practical use with his job, housing the finer tools needed for cutting hair. It originally had a very fancy and fine outer cover to it, but it made it awkward to utilise the tool aspect of it, often getting caught, so he removed it. It’s still at home somewhere. No body hair, they hate it. They got it permanently removed some years ago (they like it on others though). Personality: They play into the bitchy hairdresser stereotype, and it is only partially faked, they are a bit of a bitch. A generally quiet person when they are comfortable, they tend to be loud and show off-y when they are feeling nervous. They enjoy sex with multiple people at the same time, often attending sex parties. The more, the merrier in their book! Tattoos: his body is covered in blackout style tattoos (90% done by Scott) including a little heart in his face (that matches Sera's).  Style: Smart and simple, often accentuated by a loud pattern or colour. Typically, at the forefront of what's currently in. That could be anything from pants to skirts and dresses, they will wear whatever they look good in and wear it with confidence. Still often seen in custom pieces made by their sister.

[jules-and-rue-and-lexi-too]

So there's this post about the new Peter Pan and Wendy movie bemoaning the creative bankruptcy of the movie because of the reason for Tinkerbell not glowing. I can't exactly blame Tumblr for this line of thinking, given most Disney live action remakes are creatively bankrupt, plus the fact the movie wasn't actually out yet. I'd probably also have implicitly agreed with the post and moved on if it were about the new Pinocchio or Little Mermaid or something.

Peter Pan and Wendy is out now though, and I really liked it, which compelled me enough to check up on the context of that quote. And while it's not so different from what the tweet describes, I do think there's some nuance that deserves sharing.

Here's the full quote from SFX:

To me, this doesn't read like somebody who removed this particular aspect of Tinkerbell's visuals out of a completely shallow attempt at realism. Not only was it simply what was arrived at as the most fitting look for her, it doesn't even seem like removing the glow was much of a conscious choice. "That's something that never even occurred to me" doesn't make it sound like something he's taken a super hard stance against, as many seem to interpret it.

I also want to defend the decision as it relates to how this movie looks, both in terms of the movie's themes and just the cinematography in general. David Lowery, the director of the wonderful The Green Knight and the other-apparently-not-terrible-disney-remake Pete's Dragon, has not only done this purposefully, but it's his entire style. Green Knight and A Ghost Story are both acclaimed movies that deal with supernatural and mystical elements, but forgo effects and dramaticism in favour of a more low-key, spare and picturesque visual style. This isn't some $200m movie that Disney has filled to the brim with CGI garbage, as seems to be the case with Little Mermaid, and this isn't Cruella shooting scenes on green screens with flat lighting for no reason; this is a director with a purposeful style achieving such with real locations and practical sets and costumes. And while Peter Pan and Wendy's visuals aren't mindblowing or anything, I do think it manages to look quite nice at times.

Critical to all this, I want to emphasise that Lowery choosing to do a Peter Pan movie with a sense of realism is not merely some outdated idea that realism = more mature or something. It is an active component of the movie's themes. Neverland looks and feels like a random island out in the middle of nowhere because that's what it is in this movie. It is not the perfect paradise of fun and adventure that Peter makes it out to be, and Wendy recognizing this is a part of the movie's core message: that one shouldn't be afraid to grow up, because there is beauty and happiness to be found even in the mundanity of real life, not just in the fantastical ideas of childhood whimsy. Does Neverland seem so much less whimsical than that of the 2004 movie version? Sure. But that doesn't mean it isn't also beautiful. And that's how she realizes she doesn't need Neverland to be happy, that she doesn't need to run away, she can find purpose and happiness in the challenges and joys that growing up will put before her.

Tying back to Tinkerbell, all of this is to say that perhaps the toning down of her magical elements wasn't totally without nuanced thought. Maybe it could have worked, maybe it couldn't, I'm not the director and didn't see what they tried. But given how well I think this movie balances its realistic tone and its magical elements (it's not a complete rejection of anything magical; the fairy might not casually glow, but she is still blowing magic fairy dust on kids to make them fly from happy thoughts) I'm inclined to take him on his word that he knew what he was doing. Maybe trails of sparkling fairy light everywhere she went did come off a little too whimsical for how he wanted Neverland to appear. You may not personally enjoy that take, but I do think it's one born of creative intent, and it's one I like a lot. And isn't movies daring to take a stance over appealing to the widest possible common denominator something we've been yearning for?

I implore people, if you think you might be interested in this movie, go watch it. Pirate it, if you have to. It's a legitimately good movie that's being screwed over by a complete lack of marketing from Disney and internet chuds reviewbombing every online score because they're still mad about a black Tinkerbell. Trust me, even if the movie isn't setting the world on fire, it deserves better than that. Especially when Little Mermaid is gonna make ten bajillion dollars in a month.