#I think I made this blog at the height of it lol

[ratingboomercomics]

Maybe controversial opinion: I think it’s a good idea to teach kids cursive.

Less controversial opinion: cursive isn’t really that hard to read even if you were never taught…. Like it’s just loopy letters…. In no world would anyone mistake cursive for ancient hieroglyphs wtf

1/10 because what is up with boomers obsession with cursive. This is like the one hundredth boomer comic I’ve seen with the same joke.

[lovelyhan]

Okay, you still have a spot. Great. I thought they'd be filled so, I didn't send anything lmao. Insomnia has its perks.

This is deeply self-indulgent and I'd love more Hao from you. So, hear me out, Minghao with a breeding kink. I feel like it doesn't get enough attention especially given how much that man gravitates towards babies lol. Like he and Reader visit Cheol's and see him with his new baby and, Hao's like oh, wait a minute. I think this is making me feel some type of way.

— terrified ⟢

minghao has a knack for keeping the things you tell him in mind. from your favorite brand of wine to how the idea of bearing children terrifies you—he remembers all of it. so your husband is in a bit of a crisis when he realizes that this newfound desire to start a family kind of clashes with something you trusted him to respect.

★ FEATURING; minghao x f!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 4.4k words

★ TAGS; idolverse, established relationship, hao trying (and failing) to play it cool about the wanting-to-be-a-father thing, brief discussion abt family planning, this is only a little sad bc hao has overthinkeritis, smut (MINORS DNI!)

★ WARNINGS; mentions of pregnancy and childbirth but nothing too graphic

★ NOTES; i scheduled to post this when it hit exactly 12 midnight in rj's timezone just in time for her birthday :> (pls look away if i got the schedule wrong,,,) i'm not really back yet bcs this is a queued post, but happy birthday, beloved. i love you more than i can say directly, so i decided to just write a fic for you instead! hopefully, i can come back and torment you with every other seventeen member BUT cheol soon :3c

★ SMUT TAGS; unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, multiple rounds, mating press, hao is just really feral in this yk

★ PERMANENT TAGLIST; @cheolhub - @pretty-trustme - @just-here-to-read-01 - @idkmelkro - @dejavernon - @venusrae - @jyiiscool - @jiniesclub - @junhui-recs - @bldelaine - @featmia - @fruitzcup - @hoeforhao - @candidupped - @billboard-singer - @caratochan - @novalpha - @dahliatopia - @0717luv - @shiveringgaze - @toruro - @mixling-blog - @minnie-mouser22 - @homerunhansol - @mirtaspace - @ti--red - @zzucculent - @woozarts - @rubyreduji - @mozellerra - @lllucere - @cheolzip - @jjjzzzz - @lissiesykes - @dearjeonwonwoo - @meowmeowminnie - @colored-confetti - @partiallyinfluencial - @speaknowlwt - @flwrshwa - @lilylikesthat - @aurorahongg - @whippedforjihoon - @todorokiskitten - @immabecreepin - @98-0603 - @peachhiz

★ MINGHAO TAGLIST; @haoxiaoba - @jeonride - @coffeestay - @hyvnae

In the height of his career as an idol, Xu Minghao filmed a certain piece of content where he was asked a normal question to which he responded with a slightly controversial answer.

"How many kids do you want in the future?"

"Oh, It's not me who'll give birth, so I can't be the one to decide."

It's a response that made waves on the Internet during the week the video was first posted—a reaction from both fans and casual netizens alike that Minghao definitely did not anticipate that he would receive when they packed up the set several months prior.

It's pretty much the logical answer, isn't it? Sure, he'd love to have kids someday, but the quantity isn't something he should decide on without his non-existent partner's input.

Minghao learns further down the road, when he finally meets and eventually gets together with you, that the number of children isn't the only thing that a couple should mutually agree on.

"I don't really want to have kids..."

You tell him this during a spontaneous date he deigned to take you out on. He just came back from a tour packed with a long list of stops and even if he should probably catch up on some sleep, he opted to have a picnic with you at the park because of how much he missed you.

Your cheeks are stuffed with a few bites of pie, thoughtfully chewing as you wait for Minghao's response to your sudden confession. If he didn't know you as well as he does, he wouldn't have sensed the waves of anxiety rolling off of you in waves—as if you're waiting for him to get mad at you for simply being honest.

Mingao heaves a quiet sigh before he pulls you into his chest—a tiny squeak caught in your throat after swallowing your food.

"Hey, that doesn't make me love you any less," he murmurs, pressing his lips on top of your head. "I know bearing children can be terrifying and painful, so I completely understand."

For a moment, your brow dips, a soft frown tugging at your lips. "I-It's not that I'm terrified... Okay, maybe a little. But—"

Minghao promptly silences your protests with a firm kiss on your lips—one that you find yourself easily melting into given the time and distance that's separated you until this moment. He smiles against your mouth, glad that you can be honest with him about things like this.

"No buts, if you don't want to have kids, that's alright," he murmurs before pulling away. "Maybe we can just get a dog. You're already close with Mingyu, aren't you?"

That makes you snicker. "You're so mean."

It's a brief exchange that Minghao doesn't really think about again for several years. After all, his career as an idol was at an all-time high. As much as he wants to settle down with you and start the next phase of his life, he's certain that he shouldn't step out of the limelight just yet.

But it doesn't take long for time to catch up with him.

One by one, his brothers are off to fulfill their mandatory service and the group's activities are at a momentary standstill. Those who were left behind go their separate ways for a while—Joshua expanding his solo promotions in the US and Jun taking up more brand sponsorships in China.

Minghao chose to stay in Seoul mostly for your sake, and the fact that this city is the only common ground between him and the rest of the boys. When Vernon and Seungkwan enlisted together, it was around the time that Seungcheol and Jeonghan came back with overgrown buzzcuts, while Joshua landed in Incheon for the first time in two years.

It was also the time when you and Minghao got married.

The event was celebrated among close friends and family with only a brief news article about the marriage of SEVENTEEN's The8 allowed by the company to circulate for a while. They did a good job at keeping things hush hush, and Minghao thinks it's only because it's been more than a decade since his debut that they're being so lenient.

But even if they weren't, nothing would stop Xu Minghao from making you his wife either way.

It takes a few more years for all thirteen of them to get back together again, but when they do, the first thing that Seungcheol does is invite everybody to his daughter's first birthday.

Minghao has met baby Suri a handful of times in the past. Seungcheol's wife visits them at the company from time to time, wheeling Suri's stroller into the practice room as her uncles all fawn over her until she's crying. For some reason, the only people the infant seems to tolerate are Jun and Seokmin.

It's pretty much the same scene during the party. Seokmin and Jun are the only ones allowed within a one-meter radius from Seungcheol's baby girl to prevent an incurable crying episode in the middle of the celebration. Soonyoung was not happy with the fact that he can't personally give Suri the little tiger plush he got for her, but Minghao thinks it's for the best.

But then, as everyone was finishing up with dinner, he saw you walk up to Seungcheol's wife with a familiar sparkle in your eyes. You're staring at Suri who's all dressed up for her party with a look of endearment—nearly gushing with how animatedly you're speaking with her mother.

Minghao doesn't think much of it. You and her have always gotten along for as long as he can remember.

What does catch him completely off-guard, however, is the fact that Suri is being handed into your arms and you let it all happen without much of a fuss.

Chan was in the middle of telling him about this martial arts move that he'd wanted to choreograph into a dance but as much as he wants to give the younger man advice, his gaze is completely glued to the sight of you with Suri in cradled against your chest.

It's one thing to see a woman holding a baby. It's another to see his wife do the same thing.

"Hao, look!" You quickly call him over when you catch his eyes in the crowd. "Suri thinks I'm worthy! It's been five minutes since her mom handed her over and she's still not crying."

The sight is so adorable that Minghao abruptly excuses himself from his conversation with Chan to rush towards you with clipped strides. His heart thunders inside his chest as you visibly dote on Seungcheol's daughter, and he isn't sure if he wants to give the feeling a name.

It eventually fades into a barely there throb in his chest when he drives back home for the evening. You quickly fill the silence with your attempts at looking at some properties in this newly opened residential area near the freeway and as always, your husband lends a willing ear.

"It's a little far from your company building, but it's much more spacious than our apartment right now," you chuckle, face alight with the glow of your screen as you scroll through the property's details on your phone.

Minghao hums before pulling over at a red light. "Hm? Isn't our place alright as it is? Why would we need the extra space?"

He half-expected you to answer with something along the lines of, so I can have more space to keep my book collection in or so you can have enough room to practice at home if you want to.

But all you do is let out an uneasy laugh, locking your phone before depositing it in the cupholder on the middle console.

"Y-Yeah, you're right. That was a bit silly of me."

The next time Minghao unwittingly makes the connection with you and the prospect of having kids is when Seungkwan's nephews are in Seoul for a couple of weeks.

While he and his sister are off to run errands every now and again, they typically ask Jun to watch over the kids because out of all the members, he's definitely the only one who can be trusted around children. Even more than those who are actual fathers.

But it just so happens that Jun is all the way in Shanghai to shoot for a historical drama, and for some reason, Seungkwan thought it would be a good idea to drop his nephews off at Minghao's doorstep.

"You're pretty decent with kids and your wife can take care of anything," Seungkwan praises while he ushers four year-old Hanjun into the room and eight month-old Jiren into your arms. "We'll be back for them after lunch!"

It's just as Seungkwan said though: Minghao is pretty decent with kids and you can take care of anything.

While waiting for lunch to cook in the kitchen, you both do your part in entertaining the children—Minghao pointing out different shapes and animals in the picture book from Hanjun's backpack while you quietly feed Jiren the baby formula that Seungkwan's sister prepared in advance.

So distracted with the sight of your soft gaze transfixed on the baby in your arms, Minghao barely notices it when the soup he's prepared starts to overflow from the pot. You scold him for being so distracted before he shuffles into the kitchen with his tail between his legs.

As he salvages what's left of the soup, Minghao tries to pull himself together. Sure, it's been a few years since you two tied the knot, but you made it clear years ago that children wasn't on the table when it comes to the two of you.

It's something that you both agreed on even before marriage, and Minghao isn't about to break your trust by saying he suddenly wants kids all because seeing them in your arms makes his brain short-circuit. He has more tact than that.

"Is it just me or are you acting a little weird?"

For some reason, you choose later that evening to corner him in the quiet of your bedroom. Minghao was just getting ready to sleep when you turned to face him with a frown.

"Weird how?" he wonders, praying that you wouldn't single him out like you probably will.

"I don't know, you were looking at me funny when I was giving Jiren his formula," you point out. "You only do that when you want something from me."

Your words make him sigh. Of course his wife would catch onto every nuance of his actions—even from his stare alone.

"And what do you think it is that I want?"

"Xu Minghao, we're already married. Cut the games and just tell me what's on your mind."

God, he really couldn't love you any more than he does now.

It takes several minutes, but you and your husband eventually migrate to the living room—cups of hot chocolate in hand as you patiently wait for Minghao to open up about something he's been keeping to himself for a while now.

He's rightfully nervous—hands clammy around the ceramic of the mug that matches yours. It's Game of Thrones-themed with a dragon's neck acting as a handle. You kept insisting at the souvenir shop that its selling point was the unique design, but Minghao was pretty sure you were excited by the fact that the printed text changes color depending on the drink's temperature.

With that memory suddenly drifting into his mind, the tension ebbs from his shoulders. Though he tends to forget, you're the last person who'll condemn him for what he's about to say to you.

"I've been thinking of starting a family with you," he admits—hitting his point straight to the roots. "But... I always brushed it aside because I know how you feel about kids. I don't want to force you into something you don't want."

It's in times like this where silence is more deafening than actual noise. It rings in Minghao's ears as you watch the steam rise from your mug and your husband lets himself stew in his anticipation, wondering how you'll choose to respond to his honesty.

Will you laugh at him? Will you be angry with him? It's a subject that the two of you rarely broach with each other, so he isn't quite sure how to handle whatever reaction you'll grace him with.

What Minghao never would've expected, however, is for you to crack him a relieved smile.

"Me? I thought you didn't want kids because having one would be detrimental to your career," you chuckle, taking the first few sips from your hot chocolate. "And you always kinda shrugged it off whenever I tried to ease the topic into the conversation."

"I did?" Your husband scowls. "When did I do that?"

"After Suri's birthday party? When I was showing you a couple of new houses?"

Oh. Oh.

"Shit," Minghao mutters, embarrassed. "I almost forgot about that. I'm sorry, love. It didn't occur to me because you said that you didn't want to have kids—"

"One time," you interject with a groan. "That was one time, Hao. God, can't a woman change her mind about wanting kids with her husband?"

He blinks. "But you said you'd be terrified."

"No, you said I'd be terrified. As an educated guess and to some extent, you're right. But it's not the having-a-kid part or the childbirth part that terrifies me, Hao." You let yourself breathe for a couple of seconds and it comes out shaky. Minghao has to resist the urge to reach out to embrace you.

"What terrifies me is becoming a mother."

The silence of the living room thickens when you say the words and Minghao feels his chest flutter with that same feeling from the first time he saw you cradling Seungcheol's daughter in your arms. Despite the questions swimming inside his head, your husband keeps his silence and lets you continue.

"Like, yeah, the pregnancy is going to be hell and god knows whether I'll even be alive after giving birth, but..." You hesitate, refusing to meet Minghao's eyes for reasons that elude him.

"Raising a child so they would grow up to become a good person is even more daunting to me... What if I accidentally teach them something wrong? What if they end up hating me because I can't keep up with whatever trends kids would come up with in a few years? What if they love you more than they love me?"

Minghao laughs airily. "Is that last part really a necessary measure?"

"It is," you insist before breathing out a laugh of your own. "Urgh, you get the point! It's just that... I'm not against having kids, but the responsibility that comes with raising one overwhelms me whenever I think about it."

"You know you're not in it alone, right? I'm your husband. Of course I'll be here to support you however I can," Minghao sighs before finishing the rest of his drink. "Whether you want kids or not, I'll go with either choice because I want what you want, yeah?"

"Yeah. I do know that. I think I've always known, but at the same time, I didn't want to tie you down," you murmur, tracing the handle of your mug with a small pout. "If we have a kid together, they might take up the time meant for your schedules. I never want to burden you like that..."

Your husband sets down his mug on the coffee table, carding his fingers through his hair with a disbelieving sigh. You were starting to fear that you might've annoyed him by accident, but when Minghao leans closer so that your eyes are leveled, you realize that is far from the case.

"Baby, our wedding rings are literally tattoos," he reminds you while reaching for your hand—pressing the inked fingers together. "I'm as tied down as I can be and you've never heard a peep out of me after all this time, yeah? So don't you ever think you or our future kids would be burdens to me."

Playfully, you raise an eyebrow at him. "Kids? Plural?"

"Hey, like I said—"

"Yeah, yeah, you want what I want," you interrupt with a roll of your eyes. "I get it Hao, you're a gentleman. But what if I told you I want you to fuck me on this couch right now and give me your kids?"

The wording is so crass that it could only be seen as a joke, except the reaction it incites from Minghao is leagues more intense than a mere joke would. The mental image injects a rush of corrosive want straight into his bloodstream and Minghao swears it makes him a little lightheaded.

Your husband lets out a shuddering sigh. quickly lunging after you to pluck the mug out of your grasp and safely place it on top of the coffee table. When you look up at him so prettily as he cages you on the couch, the sight makes his cock twitch with anticipation.

"Then I want that, too."

Logically speaking, you and Minghao can't just flip the switch and go into full babymaking mode after a heartfelt conversation and a bunch of impulsive decisions.

For one, you were still on birth control. It would take some time to wean yourself off it and you'd have to ask your doctor if it was safe to stop taking the pills at this point in your life.

Next was that Minghao and the rest of the guys are going to be preoccupied with their latest album—one where all thirteen men are back together after years of being separated. It'll go on for a couple of months and maybe a year if he's going to take their tour schedules into account.

And because he doesn't want to be absent in any milestone during your hypothesized child's life, you and your husband mutually decided not to actively try for a kid just yet.

But that doesn't mean you can't pretend.

"Fuck, baby, your cunt's gripping me so tight," Minghao groans, nearly hissing as he slides his cock against the velvety heat of your walls. "You want my load in you, pretty? You want to me to pump you full until it's dripping out of your pretty pussy?"

With coherence having long left your mind, you arch your back even higher as your husband continues to plough you into the mattress. "Y-Yes, yes yes! Hao, feels s-so fucking good!"

He chortles quietly and even with your cheek pressed against the sheets, you can still picture the smirk plastered on his face. "Pretty baby's in love with my cock. You just can't get enough of me, can you?"

"More," you whimper, the muscles of your pussy tightening around his length as he plunges in and out of your sopping entrance. "W-Want more, Hao. Need you to fuck me harder..."

Your husband is quick to comply with your wishes, gathering your hair with one hand while keeping your hips in place with the other. Minghao slams his hips brutally against yours, making stars dance in the seams of your vision as the head of his fat cock bullies its way into your leaking hole.

He's so deep, you can feel him prying your cervix open with a promise that you'll be filled to the brim if you behave tonight. And with all those years of being a professional dancer under his belt, it's no surprise that he's got enough stamina to wreck you more times than you can handle.

The first orgasm blindsides you completely. He'd just been whispering both sweet and filthy nothings into your ear when it washes over you like a tidal wave—inevitable, inescapable.

(Doing so fucking good for me, love. Taking my cock like a good, good wife. You'll take my cum just as well, won't you? Keep it inside so it'll take and you'll be swollen with my child. Then everybody will know you're mine.)

The second time it happens is mere seconds after Minghao's own orgasm. His thrusts have started to lose their practiced cadence and even if you've been in this situation countless times before, the euphoria that sings in your veins makes it feel like the first time all over again.

Minghao's cock twitches before his cum spurts in thick ropes inside your tight cunt—filling you with a warm sensation that has you biting down his neck to stifle your moans. The motion of his hips slows to a crawl as Minghao feels you clamp down on his length. Your pussy gushes around him with a delicious grip that brings him dangerously close to another orgasm with how good you feel around him.

"Fuck, baby," he swears, voice still hoarse with need despite the fact that he's fucking you into overflowing. "I love you. There's no one else I'd want to have a family with."

"T-There better not be," you say cheekily before Minghao is flipping you around so that you're lying on your back. The sensation of his cum dripping out of your ruined pussy makes your skin tingle with excitement, and the fact that his ravenous gaze is trained on your body isn't lost on you.

"Be a good wife for me and hold your thighs up," he whispers lowly and it takes you mere seconds to comply. "That's my girl."

You preen at his praise—no matter how pathetic it would make you seem. After all, if there's anyone who get reduced you into a cockdrunk mess, it's most certainly your husband.

Minghao doesn't waste any more time, he pumps his cock into full hardness for a few moments—refractory period be damned—before gliding the head of his cock against your slit. Your thighs twitch every time be brushes against your clit, making you cry out with desperation as he gloats at your misery.

"Minghao," you beg, trying your best to hold your thighs up just like he asked all while he's taking his sweet time admiring your pussy. "Fuck me more. Want you to fill me up even more."

"Needy little thing," he chuckles. "You want my kids that badly? If I fuck you too much, you might actually get pregnant, love."

"Don't care," you practically sob. "I want it. I want you. All of you—even your kids."

Fuck. He really, really fucking loves you.

Minghao needs little encouragement after that, gripping his cock tightly as he guides himself back inside you.

The new position makes it easier for your husband to pound into you—the weight of his thrusts pressing you into the bed with enough intensity to make the wooden enforcements of your bed groan from the effort he's exerting. He splits you open on his cock, spreading your folded thighs as far as he can as he drills inside of you with the promise of another load.

"So pretty and pliant for me," he whispers, pressing a soft kiss on your nose all while the squelch of your cunt with each pass of his cock echoes in the bedroom. "My perfect wife. You'll let me breed this pussy once all's said and done, won't you?"

You nod all too eagerly. "Yes, Hao! I'll let you use my pussy however you want. Just please make me come again!"

"So demanding," your husband sighs with a wicked smile as one of his hands trails between your legs. "Hold those thighs nice and open for me, love. You'll feel even better soon."

"W-Wait, I—"

Your protests quickly melt into a hiss of pleasure when Minghao applies ample pressure on your clit—lathering his fingers with your slick before tracing tight circles around the sensitive nub.

He knows you so well, been with you for so long, that Minghao already knows the ins and outs of your body. Your husband claims that making you come undone with his own fingers is a practiced art and that he'll never forget about it until the day he does.

So it's no surprise how quickly Minghao manages to make you unravel at the seams when he couples his intense thrusts with the added stimulus to your clit. You're creaming around his cock in no time—muffling your cries in the crook of your lover's neck as he fucks into you with the intention of filling you up even more.

"I love you," Minghao rasps as he tucks your head beneath his chin, pinpointing the height of his own pleasure. "I'll want no one else but you, baby. No one."

Shakily, through a haze of delirium, you manage to say, "I-I love you too, Hao. I'll always be yours as long as—f-fuck—you'll always be mine."

You twitch violently beneath the weight of Minghao's body and the sight of you so fucked dumb on his cock eventually pushes him over the edge. Your husband comes with a sharp breath, his white hot cum gushing into your pussy until it drips onto the sheets.

It's only when you've come down from that post-coital high that you realize Minghao is looking at you as if you hung up all the stars in the sky. You respond with a weak smack against his chest.

"Don't look at me like that," you grumble weakly. "I might think you're in love with me."

"Y/N, we're already married."

"I don't see how that's a problem."

As Minghao does the honors of cleaning you up after roughing you up all evening, you quickly realize that, really, there's no reason to be terrified at all.

Not when your husband will be by your side every step of the way.

⟢ end notes: i wrote this in a haze so if there are any technical writing errors, i implore you to just ignore them for my sake <3 happy birthday again to my soulmate, rj! i hope you enjoy your day to the fullest and i also hope you like this gift i wrote for you hehe ^\\\^ like hao to the reader, i'll always be w you every step of the way (i'm just a lil busy rn, so i hope you forgive me !!)

[satoruhour]

AFTERCARE

a/n: an aftercare collection from da old blog, enjoy! plus also i had an anon asking abt nanami aftercare !!! u read my mind lol / tagging @na-t0, @jabamin who do i tag !!!!!

wc: 2k

warnings: overall fluff, contains nsfw at the start, pet names for all, praise, protected sex, implied breeding, tickle fight (gojo), unprotected sex, creampie/breeding (geto & nanami), implied fwb, cuddling, unprotected sex, creampie/breeding (toji), n*sfw under the cut

✶ GOJO

“oh, good girl, that’s it,” gojo mumbles out breathlessly, forehead against yours as you both come together. his lips continue to mutter out praises because he knew how much they affected you, and he hopes that you’d forget all of his saccharine words just so he could make you shiver and whimper all over again. your back arches into his hold one last time, digging your nails into his back.

“you did so well for me — shit — i didn’t think you still had any energy left,” gojo laughs breathlessly at how tired you two were after a mission, yet you know none of you could hold back on each other when passion took over. there’s a slight smile lingering on his face at your sweat-filled forehead and heaving chest and he loves, loves that he’s the only one to make you feel this way. the way moonlight weaves through the window makes you look stunning, and gojo’s smile can’t help but widen.

“what?”

he shrugs, removing his flaccid cock from you and eventually, the condom from himself. he ties a knot quickly, dumping it into the trash beside the bed, but before he can make a move to the bathroom to get you a wet towel, he feels your weight on his arm. it makes his heart flutter and sends shivers down his spine at the thought of doing away with contraception altogether — how would you look with his baby? who’s features would they get? what— 

“satoru.” gojo snaps out of his stupor, observing silently while you moved across the bed to him (hell, you sometimes forget he has a king sized), kneeling so you’d almost be at his height. “why were you smiling at me earlier?”

he eyes you with a levelled stare, grin turning into a smirk, “nah, no, it was nothing, baby.”

“hmm… really?” your arms hang limply over his shoulders, “i feel like i should know, you know.”

gojo simply winks, cutting off the teasing atmosphere with a deep kiss before he takes advantage of the situation, hands flying to your sides and you yelp, loudly. your laughter breaks through the quietness at 1am, making your stomach hurt and body squirmy.

“just planning a tickle attack s’all, princess.”

“y-you— fiend!” you try your best to escape the torture, but gojo is relentless in seeing you suffer, his laughter mixing with yours as his initial agenda is yet again interrupted. “satoru!” you both collapse into the soft sheets, giggles slowly subsiding to broad smiles as you admire the other, and him, you.

“god, you’re beautiful.” gojo’s stare bores into you and you avoid eye contact just like every other time he’s told you that, but your lover made it a point to make it clear to you.

“i love you, my pretty girl.”

✶ GETO

geto doesn’t stop giving you kisses even when he releases in you, helping you through the overstimulation by holding you tight until the euphoric feeling subsides and everything halts. there’s a moment of quietness, save for some concerned questions from your boyfriend like he hadn’t just blown your back out.

“sweetheart? you okay?” his eyebrows knit together, always worried that he might’ve hurt you in any way. but you’re always too tired to answer after, simply settling for a delicate hand to his face and a faint nod.

“kiss me,” it comes out as a whisper and dies out, dazed and still on cloud nine and geto indulges you like the lovestruck lover he is. even if he doesn’t need your palm to guide him, he lets your hand bring him right to your lips where they lay waiting. his kiss is soft, unlike before, moulding against your lips perfectly and like always, it makes you sigh and smile. “how’re your lips always so soft?”

geto smiles, hair falling from his loose hair tie. it shields his face and you think he looks like a greek god. “they just are, darling.”

your boyfriend’s always prepared when it comes to cleaning you up, so he usually has towels draped across the bedside table’s railing. wetting it with some water, he warns you gently with the free hand that strokes your thigh.

“but i also sorta use the lip balm gojo uses.” he cheekily admits, hand still diligently wiping at your core. he makes sure to cover it one, twice, thrice, before turning around to stand up. “i can buy it and we’ll share it instead.”

from here, his eyes skim over how the sheets cover you, and how your pose is provocative yet guarded — like an unnamed muse in a romanticism painting. there’s a teasing tone in your smile, a slow and languid drag to your movements. your dramatic gasp cuts off his thoughts, and your acting falls apart when you see geto’s jaw dropping in faux shock, “so you’ve been indirectly kissing your best friend this whole time? how dare you, suguru?”

geto slaps you lightly with the towel, laughing, “you’re crazy.”

“and that’s why you love me.”

he simply rolls his eyes, crawling back onto the bed to come face to face with you, the you who’s still feeling a bit playful, the you who grins at him and thinks that you like your suguru unkempt and messy and drunk in love with you.

the kiss tastes a bit like cigarettes, a little less prominent than earlier, but it tastes like him, nevertheless. “yeah, yeah. although, you’re the only one i’d wanna kiss — no one else, but you.”

✶ NANAMI

nanami groans into your neck with a final thrust, skin feeling the way your body shivered and trembled at how his cock twitches in you. he pumps you full, drinking in the moans of his name and he stays sheathed in you, face buried in your neck like none other. you realise it’s his favourite position — to stay close to you, to feel your pulse, to hear the almost inaudible sounds.

“you’re perfect, fuck,” nanami says, breathless, body propped up with his elbows by your ears; and of course you’ve heard your lover swear — at gojo, at some stubborn curse, at the terrible dishwasher in your home in kuantan and at you, sometimes, but never said like this. nanami looks at you like you’ve the breeze of the beach and the sunset that dips below the horizon.

you had the privilege of seeing that everyday, yet nanami choses to look at you each time, even if you’re always fixated on the scene. today you get the chance to see the love he has stored for you within his irises, and before you can retaliate, you feel his lips on you. nanami moans into the kiss, the need to feel you again taking over him as he deepens it, kissing down your jaw and neck and chest until you remember the abandoned pancake batter you were mixing.

“kento, honey,” he hums into your chest, acting like a child dreading school. “we can’t leave the batter out in the open.”

nanami grunts, “just leave it. i’ll cook eggs and have some kaya on toast or something later.”

“but that’s exactly why we decided to cook pancakes!” you laugh softly, hands running through his blonde hair. it’s starting to whiten a bit, too, but you don’t mind. if anything, he makes getting old look good, “to have a change from our normal breakfast.”

nanami sighs, blinking tiredly at you as he lifts his head to look at you, and every time he fails to resist your expression. you’re not even doing anything, sitting there looking pretty and your husband simply can’t fathom the action of saying ‘no’. he doesn’t want to move from his place — because your profile against the endless stretch of the ocean is a vision he never thought would come true.

nanami gives in, like he always does.

“fine, you win.”

you cheer with a big grin that escalates into giggles as nanami sweeps you off the sheets, placing a kiss against your temple. he smiles at you, at the possibility of living here until he dies; and if that possibility is compromised, he’d fight to make it okay again. he would bring them to hell himself if he could.

nanami kento never liked killing curses, but for you, he would spill blood again just to keep you safe.

✶ TOJI

toji never gave up the chance to fuck you stupid, always propped up in some dingy motel while the money from his sorcerer missions are left on the bedside table. he has yet to splurge it, the need to gamble getting less and less the more and more he sees you. he grunts into your hair behind as your hands make a mess of the vanity table — both too needy today to use the bed — one hand under your leg and the other on your waist as he spills into you.

“that’s a good girl,” your pupils are blown wide at the unexpected orgasm as his cum spurts into you, hitting you like a truck that you’re begging for toji to slow down until he pulls out and his cum drips to the floor. but you notice he doesn’t scoop it up and tease you like always, he doesn’t tell his little insults while slipping on his pants, nor does he avoid aftercare like the lazy and non-chivalrous man he was — no, you notice the silent movements of toji. he was never this quiet, surprising you even more when he sits on the bed.

“what the hell are you starin’ at?” his eyes are locked on the floor, the distance from your to the bed a few mere steps yet it felt like crossing the globe.

you swallow. after all, he was still a large, bulking man, and while his gruff voice did wonders, it always made you a little terrified out of sex. “oh— uhm, nothing.” with another sigh from him, your curiosity gets the better of you, inching towards him with cautious steps. “toji-san?”

his hands are hesitant to reach out towards you, but they make haste to grip onto your waist and although they’re nothing like the rough ones earlier, you still get a flutter in your heart at how big his hands seem to be. they wrap around your waist before his head falls onto your stomach. too scared to ask, you just settle for playing with his hair, content with the warmness of the embrace.

“you’re making me confused.”

frowning, you raise his head from his safe place, “how so?”

you’re careful, because you know about toji’s past through rumours, you know about his hesitancy to show vulnerability. you’re holding his heart, and you’re hoping the words you mutter out don’t shatter and make him bleed again. toji grunts, yanking you down to sit beside him before staring into space as the night winds down. you can both hear the rooms quietening down and the world going to sleep.

“i don’t like this.”

and your heart breaks, because of how toji hates love and how every experience has never ended positively. we fuck and i leave, got it? if you tell me you like me or something, i’m breaking this off. so you lean forward to hold his cheek, offering a small smile. ironic that he’s told you that and yet he feels like he’s the one who broke his own rule.

“it’s okay if you don’t, i’ll be here no matter how you’re feeling; i won’t even say a word.”

toji curls his lip in disgust, but you know he doesn’t mean it when he grabs your hand, “that line was cheesy. i fuckin’ hate it.”

“it was good, i liked it.”

he only shakes his head with a sigh and lies down along with a gesture that says are you coming or what? before your smile is uncontainable and you’re moving to his side. even if you’ve only known what his body feels against you, you’re already hoping it’d happen again and toji reluctantly feels the same, wrapping an arm around your waist with lips to your hair. your heart soars when he doesn’t move away from your hand interlacing with his.

“not a word.”

you giggle at his tone, and the harshness of it. and if you read in between the lines, you’d see that there’s a bit of endearment in him, you just hoped you had the rest of your life to make him love love again.

[lovewireds]

been meaning to post my designs for these little guys forever. insane splatoon rambling under cut to explain design choices and lore related things ... read my autism boy

btw this is a repost from our art side blog this was written and drawn like months ago <- minorly rewrote some things tho

thx splatoon users drfreeman & drcoolatta for fueling my splatvrai autism brainrot ... i hate u /J

GORDON

idk how to explain this but Theoretical Physicist is inkling coded . maybe its cuz splatoon species social hierarchy

Native ink color is Orange, but he has Dark Brown tentacle roots.

Uses custom weapons to attach in place of his prosthetic; It works best with Splatlings but can be adjusted to attach other weapons.

If the thing above didn't make it obvious, he's a Splatling main. He switches out depending on his mood though.

sighhhhh technically an Agent... stares at the ceiling...Main character...

His arm loss is like pretty much the same as in-canon but it's with the octarian army shrugs. don't ask me why he doesn't just regenerate it cuz hes a squid thats for me to know and you to find out. (get partially sanitized loser)

Born & Raised in Inkopolis pre-splashtags; He wasn't informed of the switch to Splashtags being expected when participating in most activities around Inkadia.

TOMMY

I forgot why i made him an inkling why did i do that. I think it was bc i didnt wanna make them all octolings but i was wrong srry we all make mistakes /hj I ALREADY REDREW HIM ONCE IM NTO DOING IT AGAINNN

Native ink color is orange-brown.

His hat has an eye guard for sensory reasons; He covers up as much of his skin as possible because he doesn't like the feeling of foreign ink on him.

He isn't a specific weapon main, he just uses any long-range weapon to minimize the possibility of getting ink on himself. If he has enough guarding, he prefers to use N-ZAP '89.

Makes his own gear for sensory reasons as well :) It's legal when ur dad's the G-Man.

Exclusively plays in Turf Wars, Anarchy Battles, etc with friends. He hates playing with people he doesn't know.

Born in Splatsville !! He feels like a Splatsville resident. His occupation is resident I cannot imagine him doing Anything

His dad is that creepy curtain in one of flounder heights windows /j

BENR(E)Y

Octoling bc I wanted him to be sanitized :) Other than the visual part of being sanitized, I thought him being clinically dead fits /hj also lore reasons below

Pre-sanitization, his native ink color was blue.

Great Turf War veteran; He didn't do anything in the war itself, he was just enlisted lol. He was primarily security for the Octarian Domes in the years after the war. Yes, that also means he is over 100 years old.

"Raised" (debatably) in Octo Canyon.

E-liter main (4-star Base + 5-star Scope) and avid squidbagger. He also uses any heavyweight weapons (dynamo, tenta, etc)

Absolutely hates working at Grizzco, he only does Turf Wars and Anarchy Battles. He only works at Grizzco during Big Runs. The type of guy that does X battles.

Professional Anarchy / Ranked / X Battler btw. That's literally 90% of what he does.

Got on Gordon's azz over him not having a Splashtag; i wonder what that parallels.

BUBBY

Genuinely don't have a lot to say about his design. He gives off Splatoon 2 Octoling vibes (showoff /hj) also i wanted to make his hair wispy like it should be.

Native ink color is a light blue-gray gradient.

The drawing doesn't give it credit but I swear those are glasses not goggles .. they're opaque-colored slanted oval glasses !! ^_^ u can interpret them as spiked or just eyelashes, both are right.

oh also the text under bubby says "Is Best" in some splatoon font we downloaded awhile ago . i think it was ripped from splatnet

Blaster main. I don't know how to explain this one but it feels right.

helps with the practical Map props (ie ink rails) and with some weapon gear manufacturing ^_^ tech guy

COOMER

Was going to make him an Octoling for the convenience of making his hair curly but i didn't want to make all of them octolings + i think his personality generally fits Inklings more.

Native ink color is an off white gradient.

Slosher main cuz he likes moving his arms. this makes sense to me. Also is a fan of Splatlings and other Shooters.

i felt ill trying to design coomer without making his eyes two lines with eyelids

War Veteran...Stole some octarian tech and got fucked up super limbs. Cyber Inkling stealing from octos !! [inkadia crowd goes wild] /j

anyways outside of the war™ he's a data researcher. just generally. he does shit with splatfests and eggstra work.

If you splashed him with ink he would stand unmoving. He would not shake it off.

DARNOLD

Ok i'll be honest the Octoling choice is primarily bc Octolings have the afro style & inklings have no textured hair styles (i didnt have the energy to design smth that could work) . His personality fits octoling too though :3

Native ink color is red-orange.

The fucked up guy that makes those drink effects people never use ( i use them ... )

He doesn't participate in Turf Wars or Anarchy Battles, but he works some gigs at Grizzco for extra cash every once in awhile !

the type of guy that goes after flyfish cuz no one else will . god bles !!!

not a lot to say about his design & his place in inkadia , it kinda speak for itself . he just wants to get by and make his drinks in peace . #autism ... he is pretty much exactly the same as his canon self

[thisismeracing]

Babe | CL16

Pairing: black!fem!reader x ex!charles; black!reader x jacob elordi. Reader has she/her pronouns.

Warning: curse words, Twitter environment, allusions to s3x, cheating, break up, angst…Minors DNI!!!

Summary: It’s been a little over a year since Y/n and Charles Leclerc ended their relationship, the fans found out through gossip pages and Y/n went radio silent from everywhere...until the Grand Prix day when she came back with a compromising song and pap pictures of her and new beau. They say revenge is a dish better served cold, right?

a/n: none of the pictures used are mine, they are all from Pinterest and other apps. everything else is made up by me and I do not give permission for it to be published on a different platform. I would appreciate it if those things could be taken into consideration 💛

my masterlist | my taglist

itsmeyn

liked by jacobelordi, lewishamilton and others

itsmeyn “Babe” is out now in every streaming platform. I was in a really bad place when I wrote this, but I hope my heartbreak can remind you that we are only humans and the good things will come. 😘

view all 5670 comments

user2 You should not have come back, honestly 🙄

ynsunshine I LOVE IT, QUEEN!!!! Thank you for putting into words what I can’t.

charlesmonaco2 I get it that this is a song and that’s how artists express themselves, but why did she need to drag and expose Charles after almost a year?

⤷ f1winter honestly, I love Charles, but I don’t think she dragged him, she just shared her feelings with us after needing almost a year to heal. She’s quite the brave type.

elordiyn The fact that Jacob is real active and has been feeding us is such a win

⤷ euphoriamazing I hate and love the fact that he doesn’t mind pda too lol you saw that pic of him grabbing her 4ss? 😳 I had such a bi panic

paddockgossip

liked by grandprincess, lewishamilton and others

paddockgossip After over a year away Y/n came back with a new, and hot - we have to agree-, boyfriend. The fact that Jacob Elordi posed for her in front of his white benz did not go unnoticed by fans. Looks like our Ferrari queen moved on.

viewl all 540 comments

lewisbrasil LEWIS WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE???

user10 why are you guys even talking about her? Isnt this a f1 gossip blog?! She’s not f1, move on

charlesunny I loved Charles and Yn together but I honestly cannot remember about them after seeing her and Jacob…honestly, the height difference, the hand Placement, the pda, the laughs 🥹 Im happy for her, she deserves the best

jacobelordi

liked by itsmeyn, zendaya and others

jacobelordi 💜 life is better with you by my side, honey. Yn-month dump 📌

comments on this post have been limited

itsmeyn I love you, love 💚

zendaya Im over the moon for you guys!

lewishamilton 🤍🤍🤍 Its good to see you smiling again, Yn! Take good care of her, mate.

********************

make sure you like and reblog <3 feel free to talk to me as well, my inbox is always open!

[jadevine]

Medieval Warhorses, Repost + additions!

Since people loved my "Preindustrial travel times" post so much, I decided to repost my "Realistic warhorses" info separately from the original link, where it was a response to "how to get the feel of realistic combat."

--

The original link is here.

The "Warhorse" post on my blog, plus a recent addition, is here.

And here's the text for people who want to go down my "grown up horse-girl" rabbit hole right away!

Medieval Warhorses:

First of all: DESTRIERS WERE NOT DRAFT HORSES. Horse/military historians are begging people to stop putting their fantasy knights on Shires, Belgians, and other massive, chunky farm-horses! The best known instance of “a knight needs to get lifted onto their 18-hand draft horse” is a SATIRE (A Yankee in King Arthur’s Court, if I remember right), but somehow laymen decided to take it seriously.

Hell, I think the film’s historians knew that this was extremely inaccurate and begged the director not to do it.

--

For the purposes of this post, I will not get into the different TYPES OF WARHORSES. That is a hyper-fixation for another day, lol.

—

First problem with “Draft horses as warhorses:”

The bulk of modern-day “breeds” are far too recent for a medieval or medieval-fantasy story. Modern horse “breeds” began around the 1700s-1800s, so that’s in the EXTREMELY late-medieval/early-modern period. Before that, most medieval horses were referred to by “TYPE/PURPOSE” and maybe a “Country/Region.” “Spanish/Iberian horses” (the ancestors of modern-day Andalusians, Carthusians, and Lusitanos) were overwhelmingly popular for combat, and other baroque horses were also esteemed.

Destriers are physically average-height at 15 hands high (about 5 feet tall at the shoulder/withers), but the important part is that they are STACKED at 1200-1300lbs when most 15-hand horses are only 900-1000lbs, so that’s a quarter to a third more weight in muscle.

And remember, muscle will not make a given horse look “chubby!” Good ways to get across a warhorse’s muscles in writing is 1) how ROCK SOLID they are when you touch them, 2) their chiseled shoulders, necks, and butts, and 2) when they get into motion, especially for a fight, their muscles will flex and get REALLY defined. The three regions I mentioned are usually the most visible if they’ve got horse tack or a rider on them.

Think of the difference between “regular horse” and “destrier” as “regular Tom Hardy, who looks fit but normal,” versus “Tom Hardy playing Bane, where he put on thirty pounds and his torso and arms look like a fucking tree-trunk.”

Warhorses had nerves of steel, and the best-trained warhorses used could sprint and turn on a dime–they’ve been called “the sports cars of the medieval world.” This is a far cry from huge, sweet, and lumbering draft horses.

Besides Spanish horses, modern-day candidates for destriers would be European cobs (heavier all-purpose horses, large Welsh cobs are the best-known modern breed), and Foundation Quarter Horses (working/stock horses that can herd cattle and race and actually USE their muscles, not the bloated halter-horses who are mostly bred to look “good” to judges).

—

But if the destrier was supposed to be the horse equivalent of “Tom Hardy as Bane” and not “The Mountain from Game of Thrones,” then how could they carry a knight’s armor as well as their own?

First of all, human combat armor is different from JOUSTING armor and it is easily half the weight for better mobility. Warhorses from proper medieval times aren’t shown wearing much horse-armor, even in jousting. The stuff you see in museums is also frequently the custom-made armor for wealthy nobles, who either 1) wore it once or twice a year for public celebrations, which is also why the armor’s in pristine condition instead of dented and bloody like combat armor would be, or 2) wore it because they were rich enough to not want themselves OR their expensive horses to die too soon in combat.

Assuming that all destriers needed to carry 150lbs for an adult armored man, PLUS another 150lbs of the horse’s riding tack and armor, is like people from the years 2500-3000 assuming that everyone with a “car” must have a Lamborghini or a Ferrari that takes up a lot of maintenance (if you want to keep it looking nice, at least) and can go 200 miles per hour.

So the vast majority of realistic warhorses/destriers didn’t get much if any armor, because 1) horse-armor is for princes and dukes, not Count Whoever’s third son or his nephew that he tossed out on adulthood with barely any money, and 2) horse-armor is going to weigh down your FAST and NIMBLE warhorse. (Remember: Knights wanted sports cars, not tanks!) Take a look at the horses and knights of the website called “Destrier!” Most horses there aren’t notably tall, and they mostly wear head-armor and fancy but not heavy horse-tack like capes, instead of full barding.

Another reason average/short warhorses were preferred is for medieval safety issues: You wanted to mount your horse from the ground without help. The famous knight Jean Le Maingre was so dedicated to fighting that he could VAULT onto his horse in armor, without touching the stirrups. His instructions are, essentially, “put on your armor, find your horse, put your hands on the horse’s back/saddle, and FUCKING JUMP.”

Unless you’re seven feet tall or a gymnast, you’re not jumping onto an 18-hand draft horse.

So all those Red Dead Redemption animations where you get to alley-oop your way onto your loyal steed? POSSIBLE, IF YOU ARE CRAZY/ANGRY ENOUGH.

Quick note: In ancient Ireland, they refer to a “steed-leap” that nobles, warriors, and other “people rich enough to own RIDING horses” were trained to use–with the important distinction that Gaelic nobles often took pride in either using saddles without stirrups, or NOT USING SADDLES TO PUT ANY STIRRUPS ON. So the bulk of Gaelic Irish nobles could theoretically go Red Dead Redemption on your ass.

—

And the third reason most combat-ready warhorses didn’t get armor is because infantry (the vast majority of most medieval armies) just had a low chance of hitting them in the first place.

First of all, most horses are already faster than people. Destriers were EXCEPTIONALLY fast as the cream of the crop. For the horse to need armor, someone needs a good chance of hitting the horse.

Second, most horses are hard to kill physically because horses don’t tend to like getting stabbed or shot at, so they will likely try to kill YOU, which means that a knight and his horse are TWO fighters who are both very angry and very protective of each other. Most people love their horses, and many combatants share intense bonds! IMAGINE IF YOUR HORSE IS ALSO YOUR SQUAD-MATE!

And last of all, most horses are hard to kill mentally because when you want to use cavalry, you ALSO want the other side’s infantry to get consumed by panic and bolt for their lives, away from their companions and AWAY FROM THE CHARGING HORSES. (Which routinely leads to a slaughter, often called a “rout” in period literature, or a “curb-stomp battle” on TV Tropes.) While most knights could dish out one-on-one duels against EACH OTHER, a knight against a foot-soldier is going to have a huge and explicitly unfair advantage if the soldier is not specifically trained and equipped to take them on.

See, when you get a herd of knights on their steeds, the noise and the wave of horseflesh charging at you is going to make your reptile-brain instincts scream “NOPE NOPE NOPE, WE GOTTA GO!!!”

That instinct is so strong that infantry ACTORS in movies–who know that this is not a real war, and the riders don’t actually want to kill them–still routinely break formation and run.

It was possible to stop cavalry with infantry and end up slaughtering them instead of getting routed–it was just extremely notable.

Also, unless you’re specifically going for blood: You don’t WANT to slaughter a whole formation of knights! That means you’ve just pissed away a WHOLE lot of money that the knights represent!

You killed the horses that you could have used for your own side, and possibly bred for more high-end horses! You ruined the armor that you could have used for your own side, or at least melted down for high-quality, already-mined metal! You killed the knights that you could have sweetened up and used for your own side–or more likely, told their families to pay you if they wanted them home intact.

Barely anyone remembers that knights were as good for HOSTAGES as they were for actually fighting. (Except for Game of Thrones, and it’s still only plot-relevant for Jaime Lannister and Theon Greyjoy, and they explicitly did NOT get the protection a noble hostage should have.) It’s noted that Agincourt was a GREAT ending for England because capturing all those French nobles earned them TWENTY YEARS’ WORTH of regular income in ransoms. If they hadn’t won and gotten all that sweet, sweet French money, they would have been bankrupted and depopulated instead.

—

Two more strikes I’d feel are appropriate for “not wanting draft-type horses in combat:”

-Logistics 1: Too much food, too much hassle. Horses are already notorious for eating a lot, and a DRAFT horse that’s 2000lbs instead of 1200lbs will eat twice as much. No army wants to use their fodder for only half the number of horses they’d expect.

-Logistics 2: Too much hair, too much hassle. Shires and other British horses often have feathering on their legs, and anyone with long hair knows that loose hair/fur is a fucking PAIN. You can braid a horse’s mane and tail, but if you’re one of the many average/poor knights who DON’T have servants to take care of your horse for you, do you want to spend extra time cleaning and combing out your horse’s LEGS instead of necessary things? Like feeding them, grooming them, and checking for wounds? Nope, you’ll probably shave the feathering off or just pick a horse that doesn’t have it.

-Extra note on Friesian horses, who are RIDICULOUSLY common in “medieval” movies: Friesian horses are technically baroque horses in body form (Strong-boned! Big necks and butts!), but they’re also over-used in general, so most horse folks are sick of seeing them in movies. And if you don’t have the right kind of MODERN Friesian, you’ll probably be a laughingstock in addition to an eye-roll.

Some strains of modern Friesians are from carriage-horse lines, often referred to as “big movers.” This means “fun to LOOK AT, but terrible to RIDE.” Because, you know, those strains of Friesians weren’t meant for riding, but for PULLING CARRIAGES. Their movements are big, dramatic, and flashy… and their trot is notorious for bouncing people out of the saddle with every step. Not something you want for a knight who fills his opponents with terror.

A good riding horse’s movements are usually smooth and low to the ground, often described as “floating” and “effortless.”

—

A horse-note that I can’t figure out where to put: Many Western cultures love the idea of fiery stallions (intact male horses) for their noble knights and kings to ride into battle on, but realistically, stallions are only half of a given horse population. Many Western stallions are also gelded if they’re not the cream of the crop (which is probably at least the bottom half of the male horse population). So mares can be used by at least half of a realistic formation who just wants a warhorse, and doesn’t care about aesthetics or masculinity.

Also, mares can be ruthless and stallions can be nervous wrecks! Horses are living creatures, with personalities and feelings!

Horses also aren’t very sexually dimorphic, so a 1200lb war mare is DEFINITELY a match for a 1300lb war stallion. And remember how Loras Tyrell used a mare in heat to distract The Mountain’s stallion? That happens with a lot of stallions… almost like they’re living creatures, with instincts that they can’t always control! So if you know when your girl is ready to go every month, you can play dirty in a joust, too!

Just remember that you’re taking an equal risk, since your mare will possibly try to let a stallion mount her instead of fighting. You will either need to bail when she starts making googly-eyes, or you need to know you have ABSOLUTE loyalty from her, and she will listen to YOU instead of “the hot dude I just met five minutes ago!” HORSES ARE LIVING CREATURES, WITH INSTINCTS THAT THEY CAN’T ALWAYS CONTROL.

Then geldings will be used by at least another quarter of “the knights who cannot afford a horse good enough to keep his testicles,” so that leaves “a quarter or less” of knights who can realistically be mounted on stallions.

WORSE NEWS: If you geld a stallion too late (usually once they’re MOSTLY physically mature at 4-5 years old), that risk may never go away–so you’ve got a gelding who’s not breeding quality, but he’s still chasing mares in heat and fighting other stallions in turf battles, without understanding that he can no longer make babies!

On the other hand, some cultures don’t geld stallions because they view it as unnecessary or outright unnatural… but they also don’t want half the horse population distracted by pretty mares, or fighting with other stallions who walk by the pasture, so those cultures breed them to be sweet and easily managed (outside of battle, at least).

In short: ALL HORSES HAVE POTENTIAL TO BE WARHORSES, WHETHER THEY HAVE BALLS OR NOT.

—

Update, Feb 2 – Another day to expand on that “Different types of warhorses” mention!

Much like the common misconception of “all knights must be at least 6 feet tall and have 200 pounds of muscle” varied in real life due to genetics, cultural values, and logistics problems, the assumption that “all knights MUST have top-quality destriers that cost seven times the price of a normal horse” was not the case for the vast majority of “knights.”

Knights would have either “the best horse they could AFFORD” or “the best horse FOR THEIR SPECIALTY.”

A poor knight, or one of the early Middle Ages, would have “one horse that they’re with all the time;” that horse may not be pretty or come from fancy breeding lines, but they would get the job done and most definitely be taken care of. A wealthy knight of the later Middle Ages, when everything got more expensive and status more codified and finicky, would have two or three horses–one horse for warfare and one for regular riding, with the really wealthy knights having a third packhorse to carry all their stuff. (Moreover, they would have at least one servant to help take care of three horses.)

A muscled sprinter like a destrier is better in tight quarters and for short bursts of speed; to bring in the modern example of a classic/Foundation Quarter Horse, who are ideally “short-legged and low to the ground,” these dudes can literally hit the ground running and reach top speed in a few steps/seconds, so compare that to a sports-car going from zero to sixty miles. The tradeoffs?

1) You need to be able to hang the fuck on… and to avoid getting pitched into a wall/enemy WHEN THEY STOP.

2) That full-throttle gallop will really wear out your horse. A good commander will not bring out their heavy cavalry right away, because you also have to figure out how to get them back from the enemy’s side of the field.

In very simplistic terms, this is one of several problems that the battle of Agincourt had for the French; you had a bunch of hoity-toity noblemen with no proper battle experience who all wanted to do things their own way… and how do medieval noblemen usually want to fight a war? JUST FLOOR IT AND HIT THINGS AS HARD AS YOU CAN.

That went so badly that the recorded death-toll for the French side of Agincourt has been commented as “a roll call for French nobles.”

A destrier would not be suitable for a scout or light-cavalry; they’d need lighter and ground-covering horses to cover rough terrain, and to chase down the enemy for long stretches–akin to a modern-day Thoroughbred. For period pieces they might resemble an Akhal-Teke or “Turkmene” horse. A modern-day Thoroughbred horse can “only” reach forty miles per hour at a gallop, but they can keep that up for a whole mile or longer. So now your knight’s problem is “Hanging on for two or three whole minutes,” and anyone in performing or athletics will explain how long and agonizing a few minutes would feel on a rampaging horse. Have you seen how stacked a racing jockey is? The general consensus I’ve seen from equestrians is that barely anyone in any other horse-discipline is that built.

Meanwhile, an ideal light-cavalry horse would need longer legs for a ground-covering stride, and they may or may not be taller as well; as seen in the Akhal-Teke article, many endurance horses tend to show a lot more ribs and bones than other breeds, due to how lean they are. But think of them less as a dainty riding horse and more like a hunting greyhound/sighthound–all muscle, no fat!

The other type of light-cavalry horse would likely be a pony, used to going for miles on rough terrain, with little if any feed.

EDIT Feb 4, 2024: My post got cut off, so here's the rest of it!

The other type of light-cavalry horse would likely be a pony, used to going for miles on rough terrain, with little if any feed.

A period-accurate scout's horse was known as the Irish hobby, ridden by their eponymous hobelar troops. These little dudes were VERY little and about 12-14 hands high (48-54 inches, or 4 feet tall to bit under five feet tall). They were known to cover 60-70 miles a day in their raids, which my "preindustrial traveling" post notes is the EXTREME upper end of mounted distance travel. Their modern descendant is likely to be the Irish Connemara Pony.

Very wealthy and/or lucky European horsemen could probably manage to buy/steal an Arabian horse, as they remain exceptional endurance horses to this day. However, excessively cold/wet climates will need a lot of upkeep for a desert-bred horse to stay healthy.

While Arabians are known for their adorable "dished faces," this is not actually required! Many well-bred native lines have a regular face (ie, a "straight nose/profile") but they are from well-bred parents and have the capabilities of other Arabians. To the other extreme, you have some modern show/halter lines with REALLY exaggerated heads that hit a lot of people's "Uncanny valley" buttons, and they find it creepy/weird instead of refined. This kind of "seahorse face" would NOT be seen in a period piece.

Notice how the smaller a horse gets, the more ground it can cover? This is partly because size only matters TO AN EXTENT for "how long a horse goes," and partly because of physics! Less weight for a horse to drag around on its own body means more energy for putting miles behind them!

[obeymematches]

hi!! i’m not sure if this was already done so i’m sorry if one about this topic was made previouslyjajfjssj but i’d love to see the obey me! boyfies with a tall ! reader because sometimes i can be really insecure about it and would love to see how they’d approach this!! ((+ i’m in need of some comfort lol & i love ur blog!!)) i never see much appreciation about tall s/o’s so i’d absolutely love this if that’s fine with you!! thank you so much & i hope you have an awesome day 💜💜

hmmm..... for you I put everyone into categories i hope that's ok! 💞

Tall MC (GN)

Thinks you are the most elegant being his eyes ever seen, loves it when you wear clothes that show you off: Asmodeus, Lucifer, Simeon, Satan

Loves how you are tall enough to fit right under his chin when he embraces you: Beel, Diavolo

Likes to help you decide which high heel you should wear if you want to wear such: Barbatos, Asmodeus, Leviathan

His heart skips a beat every time you give him stuff he couldn't reach easily: Mammon, Solomon, Belphegor

Pleeeease carry him on your neck, he enjoys being lifted up: Belphegor, Leviathan

Showing you off in public and taking romantic pictures of you two is just a regular Tuesday: Asmodeus, Mammon

Fights anyone on sight if they dislike your height: Mammon, Belphegor, Leviathan (good luck MC)

Likes to pick YOU up and carry you either in his arms or on his back: Diavolo, Beelzebub, Lucifer

If you wanted to he would learn how to sew just to make you clothes you like: Mammon, maybeee Simeon, Satan might try it once, MAMMON did I mention Mammon-

[aerynwrites]

Hey I just stumbled upon your blog and I love all the headcannons you've been writing so far!

My question is how do you think Dammon would do with a plus sized reader?

ahhh thank you for sending this in my friend!! I absolutely love Dammon and this idea with him is just *chef's kiss*

Dammon with a Plus Size S/O

I think I've said in the past that Dammon is a physical touch guy.

so like...he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off you.

he loves how soft you are, especially in comparison to him.

he doesn't dislike his body at all, but he loves the contrast. He's always been pretty lean and also has those ridges on his body like most tieflings do, and so like that in contrast with your soft curves and plushness just drives him mad. especially in the bedroom tbh.

also.

don't EVER let this man catch you talking down about yourself or being self conscious bc he will ALWAYS shut you down. (in a nice way of course).

example A: If you ever maybe questioned if he could lift you or maybe made a dismissive comment of Like "dammon I'm too heavy-" that man would look at you so hard and pick you up with NO problems.

I mean come on.

he slings a heavy ass hammer all day, deals with super heavy metals and armor, he would have no issue picking you up and doing whatever you (or he) wanted him to.

if something Like that happened in the forge I could totally see him lifting you up and sitting you on the anvil, especially if there's a little height difference, and he'd just kiss you silly. (and maybe some uh...other things if you catch my drift lol).

Also while I do believe Dammon to be one slow to confrontation.

if someone ever looked at you sideways or made a rude comment, he would throw hands without question. or at least threaten him with his hammer lmao.

Dammon just loves you so much okay.

And he would tell you so often like. he'd kiss you all over have his hands on you, he just loves you.

ALL of you, no matter what that means.

[cosmicjoke]

Love seeing people trying to downplay the damage Kenny caused Levi growing up.

In what world would anyone call Kenny a good guardian or father-figure?

The only reason anyone would do that is if they have some ulterior agenda of wanting to downplay the overall horror of Levi's childhood. And the only reason anyone would want to do that is either because they're trying to push this notion that some other character had it worse, or because they're trying to be intentionally argumentative against blogs they've decided to target.

Why can't they just admit Levi's childhood was hell, and that Kenny actively contributed to that hell? There's a reason Levi was okay with dying when he went to confront those men in "Bad Boy".

Also, this idea that Kenny wasn't physically violent with Levi... lol, okay. How do people think Kenny taught Levi to fight? Where do people think Levi got the idea that physical violence is a good way to get people to comply? That it's an effective form of discipline? I guess we're supposed to just assume the man who made a sport of murdering people was super gentle and sweet with the child in his care? The same man who clearly thought nothing of murdering other children. The same man who tried in earnest to kill Levi during the Uprising arc. Anyone who doesn't get why that's messed up, or doesn't see how that shows Kenny's abusive behavior toward Levi, is a fool and morally bankrupt. Thinking it's appropriate to test your pet projects skills by trying in earnest to murder them, shows that Kenny also thought Levi would have deserved to die if he wasn't able to properly defend himself. That is the height of abusive treatment. That's like a parent that refuses to provide food to their child, insisting to them that if they can't get it for themselves, then they deserve to starve. Honestly, fuck anyone who tries to defend Kenny trying to kill Levi, or tries to frame it as some act of love or caring on his part.

Kenny was a serial killer, and a man who's entire philosophy in life centered around this idea of power and strength, and who saw that generally in physical terms. And it's plainly implied, from the scene when he abandons Levi, that he used to test Levi's skills by throwing him into fights against grown men. There's a crowd gathered, meaning it was in some way an advertised event, and Kenny is part of that crowd, standing by and watching, and at the end of the fight, Levi looks to Kenny for approval, which all indicates this was something Kenny regularly put him through to test his skill, to see if Levi was ready to be left on his own, yet. Levi looks at him as if to ask "Did I do good?". Which, again, heavily implies Kenny regularly put Levi through fights like this to test his skill. When Levi finally won a fight, that's when Kenny walked away, which is what led Levi to believing he'd disappointed Kenny somehow, or was somehow at fault for his abandonment.

To assume Kenny never attempted to test Levi's skills before then is absurd. Kenny wasn't going to let himself be saddled with Levi and the responsibility of raising Levi forever. He wouldn't have been able to just assume his Ackerman power would awaken, since we know from Kuchel and Mikasa's father that it didn't awaken for every Ackerman. So he taught Levi to fight, and would have needed to test those skills of Levi's somehow. You can't teach someone to fight through demonstration alone. You need to actually either match yourself against them physically, or match them against someone else physically, meaning actual, physical altercation. That's also how Annie learned to fight.

Like I said, it's pretty clear to me that certain people are just trying to downplay what Levi went through growing up, and there can only be some ulterior agenda fueling that, because nobody in their right mind would try to claim Kenny wasn't abusive. He was the definition of abusive. Physically, mentally, verbally, emotionally. And he clearly neglected the shit out of Levi, too, because we know from "Bad Boy" that Kenny regularly just fucked off to wherever and left Levi on his own long enough for Levi to be able to find the kind of trouble he did in that story.

Using Levi's good nature as proof, also, that Kenny didn't treat him badly? Or the fact Levi doesn't hate Kenny as proof of that? Levi doesn't hate anyone in the series (except Zeke, for good reason). One of his defining qualities is how nonjudgmental he is. His ability to empathize and understand other people and their perspectives. He isn't at all given to bitterness or resentment. People constantly insult him, and he never even reacts. He never tries to defend himself against other people's mistreatment of him. He isn't petty. He doesn't hold grudges, or seek out revenge (don't talk to me about Zeke. If you don't get by now that that wasn't about revenge, then I can't help you.). That isn't the kind of person Levi is. His real anger at Kenny at the beginning of their confrontation in the Uprising arc is because Kenny blew Nifa's head off right in front of him. So this idea that it must be proof of Kenny's good treatment of Levi growing up, because Levi doesn't despise Kenny, or want to make him pay for what he did to him, is nothing but bullshit. It also doesn't take into account that Levi undoubtedly internalized Kenny's treatment of him growing up and thought he somehow deserved it. Just like he thought the reason Kenny left him had to be because of something he'd done, or failed to be.

Also, Kenny saved Levi in his darkest moment, when Levi was starving to death, after watching his mother succumb to disease and die right in front of him. Similar to how Mikasa ended up imprinting onto and falling in love with Eren for saving her in her darkest moment, you know the same happened to Levi with Kenny. And yet we all know how abusive Eren was toward Mikasa, how he mistreated her. She still loved him, despite that. It's normal for people who associate someone with their salvation to view them in a more idealized light than they deserve, and it isn't at all indicative of a lack of abuse on that person's part.

Again, this absurd tendency on these people's parts to try and give credit for the way Levi turned out to anyone but Levi himself. That's so damned insulting to Levi as a person. Levi turned out the way he did in spite of the way he was treated by the people in his life growing up, not because of it. When you try to give the credit for Levi's kindness and compassion to Kenny, or anyone else, that's the same as saying "you're trauma makes you stronger", or "I'm as good and strong as I am because I was put through hard times". It's such bullshit.

I'm sick of the clowns I keep seeing who want to push this idea that Levi didn't have it so bad. By ignoring what happens in "Bad Boy", by acting like what Levi went through, and the way those men treated him, wasn't as bad as all that, by downplaying the ways in which Kenny fucked Levi up, by acting like Levi wasn't plainly displaying suicidal ideation, by ignoring the implications of that realization, by ignoring Levi's passivity and non-reaction to those men's treatment of him, also dismissing all of the implications of that.

You people are exposing yourselves for the insensitive and agenda drive jokes you are by insisting that Levi's childhood was anything less than horrifically traumatizing and damaging to him as a person, or by trying to claim that childhood didn't leave a permanent mark on Levi as a person.

You're also denying Levi the credit he deserves for coming through the shitshow that was his childhood, not unscathed, but still a good man. You're denying him the admiration he's entitled to for being able to retain his goodness in the face of his trauma, loss, grief and pain.

I deeply resent anyone who does that. I really, really do.

[poichanchan]

Hiii, someone relatively new to the phandom having just played through p5r, but can I ask how the swap au premise works? I'm curious what your own takes might be on how the situations for both joker and akechi happened to lead for them to be on opposite sides in comparison to the game! I tried to look it up a bit, but there's a lot of different headcanons, but I love your concepts so much I wanted to see if you had any particular thoughts on the setting :3

Hiiiii welcome to p5 brainrot jail haha! (genuinely though, welcome and im happy you enjoyed p5r!) Everyone has their take on swapAU, I specifically wanted to play with the idea of Goro and Akira swapping their ROLES ONLY.

In my AU Goro Akechi is still the son of Shido who is largely out of his life. Goro's life is a mess, his moms in rehab, and he is sent to Tokyo on probation (to his mother's friend Muhen the owner of JazzJin). I've adjusted Goro's life just enough to have him keep his childish love for justice. He finds his found family in the PT. Goro is a Snarky, whole, intelligent, a little mean, energetic, gets flustered, but also is passive and observant when he needs to be. HIS ROUGH LIFE MADE HIM GRUFF AND HONEST BUT HE ISNT JADED. Akira hates how shallow and transactional his life is. He has his awakening, ends up on Shido's radar via the research group he has in place to explore and exploit the metaverse. Akira's parents probably work around the research team somewhere and didn't think too hard about what they were getting their son into... a mix of negligence and wanting to get more opportunities as a family/bootlick. From there he has his forced 2nd awakening and gets ensnared in Shido's conspiracy. There is a lot of resentment in his life because of this, and when he is faced with Goro's existence, the literal SON OF SHIDO WHO HAS THE SAME POWERS yet life turned out so different for him because their roles are swapped its terrible. Akira is also very good at adapting to who he talks to like in canon. He is good at socializing and charming, thus the detective prince facade becomes a thing to help him gain access to deeper levels of mementos blah blah blah

Akira is also rationalizing a lot, he is seeing himself weeding corrupt people out, a hero getting hands dirty and sacrificing self for greater good. The metaverse is his stage. And he is THE showman. Detective prince Akira is more sweeping/showy/charismatic/flirty, his joker vibe comes through more normally. APART from the resentment Akira has for seeing Goro live his life the way he does, the resounding ITS NOT FAIR he feels in his heart, he also reeeeeally want the stupid phantom thieves to 'cherish your normalcy. stop messing with my plan. how fucking naive do you have to be to think THIS is justice?' COLD SEETHING FOCUSED FURY FROM AKIRA Its such a mess lol But i think hit Akira in the places that would make him play out the detective prince and Black mask bits without losing too much of his own flavor. His rationalizing is important, otherwise i felt he would feel the moral conflict harder and withdraw instead of being showy and sweeping. Also for their social links i have thoughts, i think detective Akira's special place would not be... jazzjin. I think he would drop by like canon Akechi drops by Leblanc, but nothing more. I have in mind a place up high at a height, something like the Shibuya Sky observation deck as a place he personally visits often to reflect and stare at the massive view of the city from. It felt right to have him up there looking down alone but comforted by it. Plus eventually share the view with Goro who he sees as this actual fated rival for all the reasons above. Their outfits are the way they are because i did not want to change them too severely in colorpallette or essence but wanted to play up some parts of their personality and represent it in the outfits. AND BECAUSE THIS IS A SHUAKESHU BLOG I NEED TO STRESS THAT because they are less jaded, because Akira is bolder and flirtier and Goro is more stubbornly optimistic about this dark world akira sees, they get closer alot faster, which makes the whole black mask and interrogation room bit very messy/

added pix to make post spicier THIS IS A MASSIVE POST BUT IM GLAD YOU ASKED BECAUSE I DUMPED MY THOUGHTS IN ONE PLACE FINALLY. there are some other things ive thought out a tiny bit, like hobbies etc but i put them down later when ive developed it more etc @ anyone reading, thank u for reading and these are my personal thoughts i am thingying to entertain myself!!!!! dont be mean to me thanks ;v;

[lycheedr3ams]

little blog announcement

TLDR: my könig fanfics from here on out will be focused on discovering his character rather than porn

rant below the cut

before you read this, just look into his eyes for a moment. are you seeing what i'm seeing? the pain and hardships he went through? the years of training and going to bed with broken bones and bruises and a bloody nose? the tears he cried alone because he had no one? can you see how many times he had to pick himself up because he was the only one he had? can you see the man who didn't get to live his dream, who couldn't be the one thing he wanted to be?

i have been thinking a lot about könig's character, story, personality, etc., and i've decided that i want to dedicate my fanfictions moving forward (for the most part) to things that only really make sense for his character. so, this means no porn without plot from me anymore.

there is so much porn without plot out there for könig, and i'm far from the best smut writer. there is an abundance of porn for könig, but far, far less fanfictions (even fewer halfway good ones) that actually have to do with his character. i don't mean disrespect to any fanfic writer, but i'm just very tired of the mischaracterization of könig. the same thing happens to ghost's character too, and several blogs have also posted about these mischaracterization issues.

yeah, some people might say this take is "too deep" or "it's not that serious", but i feel very connected to könig since i am similar to him in a lot of ways (obviously not in terms of being a killer lol). i have spent a lot of time lately just thinking about his character, and the more i think about him, the more i realize that there is so fucking much that most fanfic writers are missing about könig.

yes, we all love könig's accent, height, cock, and everything else that makes him sexually attractive. but what about the little boy who was bullied his whole life, who never had any friends, the one who dropped out of high school to join the army? the one who worked his way up from nothing to become a fierce and respected soldier? after all the porn without plot is said and done, what thoughts go through könig's mind at the end of the day? how does he interact with others? my point being, i want to dedicate my blog more to understanding his character. if you want könig porn without plot, there are many other blogs to find that from. I AM NOT SAYING PORN WITHOUT PLOT IS INHERENTLY BAD! Just that I don’t want to contribute to it.

I will still have porn without plot on my blog, but i will not be writing it myself.

this doesn't mean that i won't post könig porn. oh fuck no, i will have könig porn, but it will be in the context of a story and his character overall than just porn without plot. now, i might break this rule here and there if i have a really good idea, but i'd like to stick as close to my new personal rule as possible. i'm still going to finish the death's angel AU, and i will still be taking requests for butcher!könig cuz that AU is just so good.

but other than that, i seriously want to dedicate this blog to truly understanding könig: to getting under his skin and picking his brain and figuring out who he is behind the hood, who he is other than an austrian military sex symbol many of us - myself included - have made him out to be

if you disagree or don't like this, just don't interact. no need to be hateful. you'll get blocked if you're rude :)

[mamadovie]

I left a rq on your old blog and idk if it was in your drafts or not so I'm just gonna send it again lol

[I think I left a request about Vilkas with an S/O who finds comfort in his heartbeat or something like that but I just realized you write for Kaidan and I wanted to know if I could switch it from Vilkas to Kaidan lol]

𐙚 . . . KAIDAN.

A N: Hi, lovebug! I do remember this request, I'm pretty sure you asked for a werewolf reader x non-werewolf Vilkas. But yes, I shall write this about Kaidan instead with a werewolf reader. As usual, gender neutral reader.

A B O U T: After a long and hard day, all you want to do is listen to Kaidan's heartbeat.

W A R N I N G S: None. Just Kaidan being beautiful!

Kaidan doesn't know about this little fun fact about you. He just thinks that it's your favourite position to cuddle in — with your head on his chest. He thinks it's about warmth and general comfort.

He loves to cuddle, he loves to feel close to you, and due to his height, more times than not, your ear will be placed around that region anyway, so as a werewolf with a love for the sound of his heartbeat, that's great.

If you're a vampire, you're... Well... Fucked.

If it's something you wouldn't tell him, maybe due to embarrassment of sorts, he'd probably never know.

The furs scattered the bed in a messy formation of multicoloured mountains that encase the limbs underneath — yours and Kaidan's. His big hands, scarred and loved, traced circles on your body, silently drawing the letters to both of your names like a prayer. How much this man loved you, only the Gods knew the fullest extent. Even Mara blushed at his thoughts towards you.

You noticed his heart would pick up in pace every so often, always as you would move your hands. To play with his hair. Trace his features. Line the markings on his skin. Where you kiss that place on his collarbone. You smiled against his skin as your fingertips absorbed the pace of his heart, how warm your stomach felt as his breathing slowed into a lullaby of deep breaths and tiny sighs. But as always, his heart still skipped a beat as your fingers curled his inky hair lazily.

Moments like those reminded you both what it meant to be alive. To have a heartbeat. To know he was safe. Okay. You held a lot on your shoulders, knowing he could die, all because he wanted to stick by your side. The thought terrified you. So these moments were everything. To fall asleep as you tapped your finger to each beat his heart made. Repeating the rhythm like a mantra, or a poem, maybe. The poem he'd write for you every night.

His hand reached over to yours, gently kissing the finger that tapped, "Can't sleep, love?" He asked, deep voiced and riddled with much needed sleep. You simply shrugged your shoulders, not keen on the idea of saying, 'I can't sleep if I don't take in each beat of your heart.'

Instead, you say, "Not really. You?" Your finger continued to tap, even as he held your hand. A routine, a habit. He hummed out, wondering what song you were thinking of. But instead of asking, he joined in, smiling in the darkness until he laughed a little.

"What song is it?" He asked.

You held back a giggle, of course he thought it was a song.

"Ragnar the Red." You lied, a smile spread across your face. You felt him frown. You were out of tune. He knew you were no bard, but surely not that bad?

"Ah, right. Love, never become a singer." He jested, you both laughed as his crimson eyes watched the ceiling with sleepiness.

"Nah, I'm more of a ... Poet."

"You're definitely something. Now sleep, long day tomorrow." He kissed the top of your head before shrugging his body into comfort.

As you planted a kiss against the bare skin that cloaked his heart, you made sure not to forget to listen as it beated in tune with your own.

[sitp-recs]

After seeing you mentioning “Far from the tree” by aideomai a thousand times on this blog, I finally read it, and I wonder why I waited so long

The dynamic between Draco and Harry is incredibile, and I was wondering, do you have any recs of Drarry fics with similar charachter vibes? I loved desperate Harry and bossy Draco.

Thank you ✨

MY JOB HERE IS DONE

This message made my day, I’m so thrilled that my obsession led you to FFTT and that you loved it as much as I did! It’s in my top 3 fics and I don’t even care that much for 8th year lol go figure!

Their dynamic is indeed amazing, love the organic introduction of D/s dynamics (ch 7 will be forever ingrained in my heart, wtf was that religious experience). FFTT has always felt very unique to me and I can’t think of any other fic with similar vibes or characterization, but if you like sub!Harry you might enjoy this rec list. And you can always check Aideomai’s other works (personally I love Such Great Heights and Dwelling, the short fics are brilliant as well). Maybe my followers can help?

[jokeringcutio]

A Gift for his Gift - Albert Shaw / The Grabber x Reader Insert [ WARNINGS ]

Minors, Do not read. There are more warnings and tags to this that you'll find below.

Summary:

“I think I’m gonna keep you,” he had said. And he seemed to keep that promise.

Note: This part can be seen as a (dark and explicit) continuation of The Gift, in which the reader explains how she ended up in the Grabber's basement... to him.

Pairing:  Albert Shaw | The Grabber (The Black Phone)/ Fem. Reader

Fandom: The Black Phone (2022)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Kidnapping, Dark Story, Smut.

Additional Tags: Reader Insert, Age Difference, Older Man/Younger Woman, Height Differences, Extremely Dubious Consent, Kidnapping, Female Identifying reader, Angst, Dark Fantasy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stockholm Syndrome, Dark

Series: Part 2 of The Window  

Written for @willshipanything-blog (Not even sure you'll like it when it goes dark and twisted like this but, lol, I promise I'll try and write a sweeter continuation as well for you ;) )

Read [ on AO3 here ]  Or read below on Tumblr: 

He was going to keep you. The stranger whose house you had barged into had made his promise and kept to it. Waking up to the basement room had you back into a panic, but when your heart calmed down again, and the pain between your legs brought you down to earth, you remembered.

Oh, you remembered how you got here and how things got this far.

A quick glance at the dirt in the corner of the room to see if he had brought a plate, only to realize he was standing there, quietly staring at you. A white polo shirt with thin red stripes vertically and bigger ones horizontally at the hems was covering his chest. It had only a few creases but looked clean. He was wearing brown pants and old man slippers. So ordinary, it made you wince.

Ever since the time he caught you, he’d never shown his true face again. Always there was that damned mask. Sometimes fully, sometimes just half of it. The emotions on it changed as well.

You knew who was behind it though. You’d seen him. You knew the color of his hair and the depths of his pale eyes. You could draw the wrinkles on his head, the crinkles at his eyes whenever he smiled. You knew how his mouth looked, how his lips felt against your skin.

You could measure the size of his hands with two or yours. You knew all the hairs, everywhere, that he had on his body, knew of the shape of his hips or the firmness of his thighs. The way his hipbones pressed against you as his pelvis was pressed to your core, you remembered.

You’d learned the hard way about the shape of his stomach, the lack of hair on his chest, the firmness of his hand when he wielded his belt.

That horrid belt.

How he loved to tie you down to the bed with it, ever since that very first day when he had trapped you in his house. You remembered how tight the belt had felt when he had first used it on you; how the edges cut into your skin whenever you tried to move. He had his big black dog watch you so you couldn’t get away while he moved the rugs. Unfair, it sounded in your mind. How heavy those rugs had been to you, but how easily he carried them away, two at a time. It was not fair, you thought. Nothing about this was.

You had hated how you could not do anything but watch as the man who had tied you to the dingy bed made his way up the stairs, rugs disappearing with him. Your arms were still restricted to the bed, the dog still snarling and growling and sometimes snapping at your feet. You had watched the rugs being carried away until they had all gone, and with them, your chance to escape via the window.

Oh yes, you knew each and every bit of him. From his laughter to his growling as he pounded deep into you, as deep as he could go. You knew the sound of his rapidly increased breathing as he neared his peak, and the feel of the stickiness of his cum as it dripped from your core.

You knew it all, and it was unfair that he had left you guessing at his name. Nothing other than sir, mister or monster. But he was just a man. He had you rasp daddy to him during those moments of heated passion, when he would pin you down to the bed and have his way despite you crying he was in too deep. He urged it out of you, punished you if you didn’t say it.

He loved that you were smaller than him. Younger too. He alluded to your size, to your age, to everything about you that he deemed so different from himself. He often placed you on a pedestal, compared you to goddesses and the virgin Mary.

You were none of that, not any longer. He had made sure of it.

Looking up at him as he stood several feet away, back resting against the grey paint-chipped wall, you hoped he did not see the distaste for him in your eyes. He hated it whenever he caught sight of it, hated that after weeks in his underground prison, you still chose not to love him back. Not fully.

You had to force the memories away. They were all that had been built during the time that he had kept you here. He was your world. He was all you knew now.

And there he was, staring at you like he had done for many of the nights since you arrived. A mask covering his face as if you didn’t know what you would find beneath it. But you would recognize him anywhere. Among crowds. Among any star in the universe.

Your captor. Your keeper.

You rolled over, wincing at the ghostly feel of him still inside of you. He knew how to bruise. You did not know whether he’d done it on purpose and took delight in it, though.

Then your eyes slid to the dried blood and cum stains on the mattress. Your very first time, down here, with him. How dirty you felt knowing what he had done. To know what he had done to you.

He moved. A step forward from the dirt-streaked wall. His polo shirt so ordinary. Like any other man, except he was not.

“Still thinking that they might find you?” he asked, his head tilted, curiously. His mask fittingly neutral today.

“My friends,” you started, but your voice came out dry, barely audible to his ears. My friends will come to find me, you wanted to say. Just… anything to show you had not given up the fight. You’d be out of here, one way or another. But your throat felt swollen and you had to cough. No words came forth. You felt little. Small and isolated.

“Your friends?” he urged you, and you hated it. How curious he sounded, how caring, when you knew he was not.

When had he ever listened to you? Ever since you got here, things had always been done to his terms. He invaded your privacy whenever he fancied, came down to look at you long and hard, even during the nights. He often refused to engage in conversation with you, stating that he just wanted to be with you or liked the look of you.

It made you wonder what was going on in that mind of his.

The mattress dipped under his weight as he sat down next to you. A scent of musky mildew, eggs and something that was all uniquely testosterone invaded you.

His strong hand was upon you, turning you by the shoulder till you faced him. Your lips trembled and you did not dare to look him in the eyes, knowing what you would find there. Raw lust. Possessiveness. A primal need.

“Oh, little dove,” the words came out like a whisper. As if he cared about you.

His free hand drifted to the hem of the shirt you were wearing. His shirt. Your own clothes had long since been discarded and taken away from you. Now you were dressed in his leftovers. Another mark of his ownership of you.

His shirts were a few sizes too big for you and looked more like a dress. He found it easier that way. They gave him easy access to your body whenever he wanted to cope a feel. Like now, you thought, when you felt his calloused hand deftly slide underneath the shirt. His rough fingertips gently tipped against your skin, touch ever so lightly, tracing a pattern upwards, until you felt his strong fingers curl around your breast. His hold was instantly firm, thumb twitching past your nipple, massaging your breast and kneading it in his hot hand.

A gasp escaped you, unbidden, but you could not hold it back. You felt his touch shoot sparks down your body, all the way to your core, betraying your mind. Slick started to form between your legs, your pussy throbbing with each and every pinch his fingers made.

You hated how your body betrayed you. It had only taken a few weeks, but now, whenever he touched your breasts or kissed your neck, slick would form down below, lubricating your passage for his awaiting cock like an invite. That bulbous monster riddled in veins, that was too thick and too large for your body to handle. Yet he made you take all of him, and your body adjusted to his size. Every. Damn. Time. 

Fit him like a glove, he'd said. You imagined it being a glove a few sizes off.

You knew he craved you hot and slick and ready. Pussy pulsing and throbbing. You thought that despite your feelings for him, he had trained you well. As if your body adjusted naturally; an instinct to survive that had kicked in. The first time your walls had been dry and it had been awful. Awful, what with the size of him and all. And he had given you no respite, thrusting and grunting and coming deep inside – with only his pre-cum and spit to guide the way.

He usually wasted no time before he penetrated you deep, you knew by now. He'd shown his true colors during the many visits he made. He came downstairs to the basement only to watch or touch or come deep inside. There was nothing else. Just that.

Like now, when he lifted the hem of your shirt to reveal your dripping cunt. How he nudged your legs apart – it only took a soft nudge of his elbow and you spread them. Your own hand instantly snaked between your legs to help him, knowing he liked it this way, your fingers spreading your glistening lips.An invite in. A glistening core. Tight walls pulsing with need.

He positioned the head of his cock between your glistening moist lips, then, without delay, pushed the tip of his throbbing shaft inside. You threw your head back in a gasp, fingers clawing at the stain-streaked mattress below. You felt him, all of him. His ridges, his veins, his pulsing hardness as he thrust deep inside and stroked your vaginal walls. Hot skin deep within you.

He started a firm and modest pace. Deep strokes that made your walls quiver and pulse. Dirty, you thought, while your hands clawed at his shoulders to give you some leverage. This man, who showed you no mercy in his thrusts. Who dived even deeper, hitting your core, making your pussy itch while battering your cervix painfully. This man who grunted dirty little nothings in your ear, gasped and puffed and bit his lip for you to hear. So very close upon you, his sweat covered skin rubbing against yours.

And still, that damned mask would not come off.

Wet, sopping sounds filled the room. The heavy scent of sweat and sex coated you like a thick blanket, suffocating, unable to break away from. The scent filled your lungs as he thrust even deeper, his strokes irregular now as he reached the point of no return. How he loved slicking you up and then filling you up with his seed. How he loved to paint your womb with his semen. He retreated with a loud squelch, his cock popping free from your abused core. How many times had he been within you today? Two? Three? You’d lost count, and you could not quite say. Sometimes, the days seemed like nights here.

You looked at him through your lashes, lying on your back while his hand pushed your tummy down, pinning you to the mattress. Your knees fallen to each side, showing your treasure to him. You could see the fascination in his eyes despite the stupid mask he wore.

His grey-blue eyes were upon you, watching, intently, as the white dribble slowly started to trickle out between your legs, only to push it all back inside of your pussy with one thick thumb, his index finger then joining in as he stuffed you full – and yes, there it was. His finger was all in, all the way up to the knuckle while you heard him whisper for you to be his good girl and take it all in.

A gift for his gift. Why not let him give you something in return, when you came to him so willingly?

You bit your lip and turned your head to the side. You did not want to see this, did not want to see the fascination in those eyes and imagine how he was biting his lip behind that mask in pure fascination. You did not want to feel him push all of the juices back inside, but did you have a choice? How could you not feel his fingers teasing your itching core? Ignore how your sore vaginal walls fluttered around his fingers as he pushed back his sperm and your cum?

Did you have a choice not to? Was there a place to spit it out when he had abused your mouth? To hide his cum after he was done? You tried it, so many times, to just sit on that dirty cracked toilet and push it all out. You’d used your fingers, clawed at your own cunt, tensed all of your muscles, just to get the last traces of him out of you. But like him, his semen was thick, it stuck. It would only escape you hours after he had been done. And if he had abused your mouth, the taste of his cum would remain on your lips and down your throat till the next time he came down to have you taste him. You'd gladly have his eggs and soda, if he hadn't started to cover them in his sperm to ensure you'd never get rid of the taste of him. It'd be nutritious for you, he had said.

He was ingrained in your being, in so many ways.

His fingers diving deep inside of your cunt broke you out of your thoughts and your eyes flew open wide. Another gasp. Your body clenched. “So wet,” you heard him chuckle in your ear, his voice breathy and dangerously low, his breath ghosting past your ear. “So willing.”

You pressed your lips into a tight line and waited for him to remove his hand, but he did not. His fingers remained there, nestled deep within you.

“Thank you,” it were those huskily whispered words that made you close your eyes tightly and turn your head away. He thanked you for wanting to do this with him? But you had not-

He caught your chin with his fingers, aware of how you tried to block him out. But he’d have none of that. He turned your head back to his, forcefully with his fingers on your chin. As if to make a point, he moved his head closer to yours, forcing your lips tightly against his mask.

You knew he was regretting his choice of mask now, that he would have wanted this to be his real lips on your skin. But he had chosen for this, to be masked, and he would stick to it. He always would.

Soft humming in your ear. He was delighted by what he had done. Another wet squelching sound and his fingers were gone. You felt like you could breathe again.

The sound of a zipper and the rustling of clothes. You could hear him fasten his belt.

It took a moment, but you managed to catch your breath and bring it back under control. Your chest moving less rapidly, you turned to face him. You felt the mattress dip again and watched as he lay down next to you, head propped upon his hand as he lay sideways, elbow supporting his weight. He hummed an unknown tune near your ear. The mask muffled the sound somewhat.

“They said this place was abandoned,” you slowly said, while you watched how he seemed to tense up. He was resting on his elbow, mask towards you. His wispy grey hair fell around it like it was part of the attire. You wondered if he was unshaven underneath. If there was a grayish stubble like there had been a few days ago.

“My friends,” you said, swallowing while you gathered your courage. You’d never told him this. You’d never explained how you got to be in his home.

“They said this place was abandoned and dared each other to check it out. I was on my way home when I came across so I…” the words died on your lips when you saw tense again, spine straight. There was a glint in his eyes, one you could not place, and it frightened you. You tugged the shirt you were wearing down, as if it could cover the whole of you and create a barrier between you and your predator.

The man stopped humming and you thought he looked to be lost in thought. Had you said too much?

You saw him sit up fully now. He held his mask, as if the object was about to wobble off.

“Abandoned?” you heard him say, voice muffled from the mouthless mask he wore today. His fingers twitched, and a low laugh escaped his throat. He wanted to change masks, you thought as you studied him. This face did not fit his emotions anymore.

“Oh no,” another dry heaved chuckle, “No, dearie.” It was odd to see this creature, this abomination of a man, propped up on the bed next to you, probably smirking behind his mask. His pale eyes were upon you. “This place is lived in.”

You merely looked at him as if to say, yeah, I figured that now, but then the man started laughing again. His right arm fell to his side, then slid around his own belly. Your eyes traveled there, noticing how the white shirt he was wearing had ridden up, revealing parts of his naked stomach. How often you had felt that part of him pressed against your own. Naked. Sweating.

“Good God, I am lucky.”

You watched as his laughter died down and you imagined how, behind the mask, his tongue came to peek from between his lips, tipping one of his canines as if in thought. You could see his eyes, drifting away from your form and sliding across the room.

The words that came out of him next sounded unbidden; like they were a thought fleeting away from him. “The house, the unlived in house? They must have meant the one across the street.”

You stiffened. Wait. Did that mean…?

But as he said it, his voice faltered. Another realization, you thought. But what?

His whole attitude seemed to change all of a sudden and within a flash, he had scooted to the edge of the bed. With a clap of his hands on his thighs, the man rose. You watched his hand fall to his side, his rings glinting in the faint light that came from the window high above you.

His voice was low, dangerous almost. “You hang in here, dearie. I’ve just been remembered there’s something that needs to be done.”

And with that said he left, leaving behind the realization that your friends, if they had been looking for you would have been visiting the house opposite of the one you were trapped in. And wasn’t that a horrible thought?

[themsthenow]

DUDE DUDE DUDE I AM OBSESSED WITH THE STUFF YOU MADE OMFG. the wings and the claws im!!!! im feral rn. holy shit

do you have any advice on where to get started if someone were wanting to make something like that of their own? or just generally propmaking for cosplay stuff, god knows i need to find a way to make wings of Some Form to appease the hyperfixation lol

love this stuff it's so cool holy hell

Wow, hey thank you for the nice words :).

In terms of advice, I'd say just be prepared for random stuff to go wrong.

DOWN SCALE.

Unless you have the wide open space required to house an extra entity, I'd say down scale it and make the wing span smaller, because I literally cannot put these anywhere lol. Me and my friends were measuring them by an estimated version of Tessa's height, assuming she was an adult Australian (160cm) and not a dead child wearing robot. The original wing span ended up being almost three and a half Tessas. Down scaling is definitely recommended.

Then going on to material, I'm going to be honest, I don't really know what any good substitutes for what I've been using. The best thing I can think of would be like cutting up one of those big umbrellas you see in like outdoor seating areas because they are built to be sturdy and light enough to to transport places. The blade part of the wings were made out of cheapo yoga mats, they are not Eva foam(idk if Eva foam is more expensive, but cheapo worked for me), they are some kind of material similar to insulation sheets just slightly thicker, I have the cutting patterns on the blog (the mats are 140x50x1cm) . Springs are something similar to "helical extension springs"(they pull things together, like trampoline springs) the strength of these will vary depending on how and if you downscale the over all project.

The general wing mechanism had to be redone a little bit but the new design is just based off an umbrella. It's good to use when you fold it in that the sections form a square in between the joints as a reference because it makes it easier to translate to the wings when drilling holes. The grey moving bar is on the outside now👇

I'll be reall, this part👆 needs a bit of precision. The two holes at the bottom have to be the exact same distance and stuff as each other so the mechanism works. You could probably find a way to optimise the mechanism but I did not (this was just easier for me at least)

The way all the blade parts go up is kinda cheesing it if you want all individual parts to work perfectly without extra materials. I was tying a string together on the bars and it worked to space the wings as I wanted to.

All in all, I'm going to be making a big ol summary post detailing all the stuff whenever I'm done fully.

Until then, I hope this helps, good luck to you and don't be afraid to make mistakes :).

(it's only a mistake if you give up)

Prop making and cosplay in general are things I probably can't comment on because I have never done cosplay and most of the prop things, I make are made out of random trash I can find that would cost dumb money if you went out to buy it new.

These for example are gutter or house liner plastic that was left over from a building site (gloves were uber cheap) and they were tedious and smelly to cut out and melt over an open flame, but if you want to do this too wear a mask for saftey unless you don't care about your lungs (which you should)

The claws were a lot easier to make. Easy enough that I made two sets (I think I went through the process of making these already)

[junekissed]

jun x short reader headcanons

member — junhui x short!reader (gn) genre — fluff, humor, headcanons word count — 0.5k warnings — none! notes — this ask made me giggle because i am actually a tall girlie myself lmao. if you wanted smut lmk :) also i chose to interpret this as friends to lovers so enjoy hehe

he flirts like a middle school boy tbh and he would be really shy around you but he also loves to tease you (lovingly)

he would call you short but then immediately follow it up by putting his arm around your shoulder and saying that you're the perfect height for him to rest his arm on

at the movie theater he would get the seats at the very back so you can see over everybody (even though those are the best seats and he would get them anyway) but he would tease you and say this is what it's like walking around and seeing the tops of people's heads all the time

i feel like he would also like doing "tall" things with you, like taking you to an amusement park and riding the tallest roller coasters with you

or going on hikes so you can sit at the top of the hill and eat lunch together while looking out over the city

he would love giving you totally-platonic-and-definitely-not-flirting piggyback rides and you'd always pout and tell him to put you down but he would insist on having you up there to "guide him in case he runs into something" (as if he can't see over everybody already lol)

at concerts he would let you sit on his shoulders so you can see

he would want you to share the experience of being tall with him hehe

he would also love grabbing things for you when they're too high for you to reach

when you invite him over for dinner sometimes he'll turn on the exhaust fan at the top of the stove for you—even though the on-switch is well within your reach and you glare at him and remind him you're not THAT short

he's also kind of become your designated handyman. smoke detector needs a new battery? light bulb needs changing? there's a spider making a web on your ceiling? he'll be there asap with a screwdriver, a new light bulb, and a cup to catch the spider with

he would love going outside with you when it rains because he can hold the umbrella up above your head and pull you really close to make sure you don't get wet

like look at how tall he is in that middle picture !! he would 100% use that to his advantage to have you hug him while you walk

not really tall/short related but while we're here i get the feeling that he's the type of guy to walk on the outside of the sidewalk by the street and make you walk on the inside away from the street

anyway overall i think he would find your height really cute no matter how tall or short you are and he would find ways to make lighthearted jokes about it in the hopes that you think he's cute too

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