#absolutely didnt expect that

[latetaektalk]

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[gunstellations]

boop! 💙🤍

[the0verboss]

Even Gort is sitting by waiting for more Patch notes.

Achaia says fuck your busy schedule and minutia he needs to kiss.

[littledemo0n]

Two days into the new years baby, already a ride for me :)

[dykedvonte]

I hate the stretch lines in the front of Curly's uniform because that means the devs rushed to make a model in like a month or so and thought "They gotta at least know he has huge knockers, gotta know he's got back pain." Cause like what is the thematic importance of his tits having overhang?

What responsibility is that representing? Breast reduction? It shows an inherent greed in his character due to the excess and heshouldletmeholdone and that he clearly is blinded cause if he tries to look down his damn ladder all he's seeing is his own cleavage.

[flickeringquip]

Convince the Fighter abstinence is bad for his health. There may be consequences(?) <<

Part 2 of this post, feat. @thedolmainblog's Blythe

(smut continues below the cut + link for the full nsfw aster pic)

(full & uncropped picture here)

(1) Arrive at Blythe's flat.

It's only when the engine cuts out from beneath you that you realize you're shaking, clinging to Blythe as tightly as you can. It would be easy to assume it was from some manner of fright or nerves from the reckless ride—

But it was certainly not fear that had your face burning beneath your helmet, caught somewhere between dazed by the experience and mortified at the very real worry you'd left a stain on the leather seat of Blythe's bike.

Blythe who disentangles himself from you with little difficulty despite your death grip, dismounting in a smooth, practised motion before turning sharply back in your direction. A few seconds later finds you free of your helmet — and realizing all at once that he hadn't worn one.

"You shouldn't ride one of these things without a h—" The concerned admonishment slips free of you before you even really think about it, but your scolding is interrupted when the Fighter hoists you onto his shoulder like a particularly prized sack of potatoes, your voice pitching high as you cling to the back of his shirt, "—elMET!"

(1) And once again you're along for the ride as Blythe makes for his apartment with the same single-minded focus as before.

You expect this ride to be much shorter than the last, and it is, but you can't help but be a little confused when you aren't set down as Blythe steps into his apartment like you'd been expecting.

It's a confusion that only grows when you remain slung over his shoulder as he locks his door. As he crosses the length of his apartment. As he steps into what you assume to be his bedroom.

He only lets you down when it's to drop you the short distance to his bed, leaving you to blink up at him as he whips his shirt off and tosses it somewhere out of your line of sight.

(1) Get a little distracted ogling Blythe's chest and biceps.

Look.

The man is shredded.

You may be a little restrained compared to some other residents of this hell hole, but you do have eyes. Eyes that are all too happy dip as Blythe shoves his trousers down his hips, and you aren't sure if he had simply skipped on boxers or if they went down with the pants, but it's a question that'll have to wait, because—

(1) Turns out Blythe was very proportional.

In the span of time it takes for you to force yourself to stop gawking at him, Blythe closes the distance between the two of you once more, stripping you from the top down with the same ruthless efficiency he'd rid himself of his own clothes. The last to go are your own pant and panties, tugged off in one go that leaves you splayed on your back on his bed, more exposed in front of someone than you've been in a long time.

"It's-" Your tongue sticks to a suddenly dry mouth as you push yourself into a seated position just in time for the Fighter to lift one knee to the bed — your voice pulls his attention up from your body so fast it almost startles you, the intensity in his gaze more than enough to have you squirming a little beneath his attention, "It's been a bit for me, that is, since the last time I, y'know— I mean, not as long as it's been for you of course—"

After transitioning to working for Landry full time, you had seen no need to continue doing sex work on the side; working for the Criminal had proven more than profitable enough, and you didn't even have to see Bailey's stupid face anymore thanks to automatic deposits. And without that pressure to constantly have to make more money, you simply had found your interest in sex greatly reduced.

You weren't unhinged about it like someone — and besides, you weren't part demon, so it's not like being abstinent would've even hurt you the same way — but it wasn't uncommon for you to go months and months between your little dalliances. You'd never experienced sexual attraction quite like most of your peers, and you found that now that it wasn't a transaction, you generally needed to get to know the person before you'd even really think about sex.

(1) Which was really all to say: you weren't fitting him anywhere without some prep first.

The moment you opened your mouth to offer to handle it yourself (look, you'd never really gotten the hang of the whole 'rely on others' thing), a yelp stole free of you instead. Why?

It probably had something to do with how Blythe grabs your thighs and yanks you towards the end of the bed, looking for the world like he'd heard the words you'd been about to say and found them truly, deeply insulting.

And then his gaze dips between down to your legs as he hoists each of your thighs over one of his shoulders, you, well—

(1) You're not sure what's going to kill you faster: the sudden shocks of intense arousal or the overwhelming embarrassment.

And you just wanted it on the record that you're hardly some blushing virgin, and while you have far more experience giving oral than receiving it, you had been eaten out before. It was just. . . a long time ago. By a client you really hadn't liked much.

And yeah, fine, you are blushing, but it's because this is Blythe, who you'd formed something resembling a friendship just by proxy of co-existing in the same spaces long enough for you to get a little attached — even if you hadn't really thought he felt the same. It had never bothered you, if the people you cared about reciprocated the feeling; you'd managed to shake the guilt over the years, but the caretaking habits had held fast. And it had been nice, knowing someone else who had clear, simple loyalties — him to Aiden, you to Landry. You didn't have to really worry about navigating weird backstabbing bullshit, and if down the line your respective employers' relationship turned sour, well. . .

. . .There wouldn't have been hard feelings, at least.

(But wow, that's an anxiety that's gonna haunt you later, isn't it?)

Which was ALL to say, you think you have a pretty solid grasp on what's about to happen as Blythe yanks you a bit closer, close enough that the feel of his breath has your thighs jolting a little overtop his shoulders.

(1) It only takes one lap of his tongue for those confident expectations of yours to Go Out. The Fucking. Window.

Because you were so wrong, holy shit, you were so wrong it's not even funny, you hadn't even come close up realizing what you were in for—

But how could you have possibly known he'd be this good? That it would only take a couple minutes for you to be squirming something fierce in his hold, mewling as his tongue laves through slick, sensitive folds to flick against your clit. That it would take barely a few minutes more to find yourself cumming embarrassingly fast, hips jerking fruitlessly in his hold as he keeps your climax going for as long as physically possible, pausing only when you slump in his hold, breathing hard.

". . .Why on earth are you so good at that?" The words spill out of you as soon as you have enough air for them, an arm tossed up and over your eyes because you aren't sure you could survive whatever sight he must make between your legs right now, "You've been abstinent for like— Ack!"

The startled squeak that leaves you is far from dignified, but that's a hard thing to maintain when Blythe slides your thighs off his shoulders — only to push them up towards your chest instead, making use of your flexibility to all but remove your ability to squirm and wiggle as he holds you in that position with just his hands.

. . . It's both a little insulting and incredibly enticing how little effort it takes him to keep you pinned down like this.

(1) That's the last coherent thought you have for awhile, because—

Blythe isn't satisfied with only making you cum on his tongue once. The man eats you out like a man posssessed, and each new noise he pulls from you only seemed to encourage him. And when he closes his lips around your clit with a moan that you feel all the way to your core and you're all but thrown into your next orgasm, he works you through it and keeps going until the next one, until your thighs are trembling in his grasp and you keen loudly enough for the sound to echo throughout his room. It's only then that he at last pulls away, and even the groan that escapes him is enough to have you whimpering from sensitivity.

Your legs feel like jello when he finally releases them, pleasure long having robbed your limbs of any semblance of strength. For all that you haven't really done anything, you feel like you've run a marathon, flushed and panting. Blythe's palms are rough against your skin as he smoothes his hands down the backs of your still faintly-trembling thighs, a soothing gesture—

And one that is very at odds with the salacious way he licks his lips and the ravenous glint in his eyes.

(1) Which is obviously a great time for you to realize that you had yet to even really touch him, let alone help him release all that pent up stress form his abstinence.

"Do you want—" A true seductress you are, truly a vixen to be feared, your words winded and blurted as your hand meets his thigh and sweeps upwards, "I could suck you off—?"

Your fingers don't quite get to brush against him before you find your hand caught in his grasp, a full-body shudder rolling down your spine when Blythe growls and guides both of your hands above your head, pressing both wrists hard into his sheets with one hand in clear command — stay — before letting go.

You- you stay.

"Next time," His voice is even rougher than usual, guttural in a way that would've made your thighs clench, had he not already reduced them to jello — he splays a hand over your belly that feels hot enough to brand, something in you coiling hot and tight beneath your skin, "Only place 'm gonna cum tonight is inside you."

(1) This man was going to fucking kill you.

A fact you become more and more sure of when Blythe hits you with that fucking bombshell and does not immediately fuck you into next week, because first he has to loosen you up a little first.

Any attempts on your end to convince him you probably don't need any more prep are utterly ignored as he works one, and then two fingers inside of you — and, to his credit and despite your assurances, even with you all but dripping off his wrist thanks to his earlier affections, there's just enough of a stretch to it to make you shift in discomfort.

And for all that you might have expected him to call you on being wrong about how ready you might have been, Blythe seems to instead throw all of that energy into actually accomplishing that goal. There's a level of meticulous care to the careful way he works you open that you wouldn't have thought possible for someone in his state, and it does things to you, things that have you clenching around his fingers with a shivery little moan.

(1) The sound seems to chip away at the remnants of restraint you're not even sure how he's been hanging onto.

Blythe fingers you through two more orgasms — once with his thumb pressing sinful circles around your swollen clit and another by fucking his fingers and curling them into a spot that makes your legs shake with every stroke — before you start to crack.

Like you'd been the one who'd had a decade-long stint of abstinence.

"—Please," There's just enough desperation in your voice to bring Blythe to a pause as he teased a third finger against your entrance, one trembling leg hooked over his forearm to keep you spread wide for his touch, "I'm ready, I-I promise I am, please Blythe, I want- I need you to—"

Blythe seems to freeze above you, but you keep pushing, because you're not sure how much more of this you'll possibly be able to survive but you know you have to at least accomplish the singular thing you'd set out to when you'd kissed him.

(1) "I need you to fuck me, Blythe, please—!"

Even if you hadn't already been spread too thin to have room for embarrassment, you simply wouldn't have had time to even feel things like that with how fast Blythe sets upon you. The words have barely slipped past your lips when you find them claimed, the kiss as ravenous as the man himself as he hitches your thighs up around his hips, the heavy weight of his cock a brand against your dripping sex that has you both moaning in tandem.

Blythe doesn't leave you in suspense, driven by a lust you barely imagine as he lines himself up and pushes forward with a groan so deep in his chest you can feel it through him and it's—

It's a lot.

Your arms twine tight around his neck as your legs squeeze tight against his hips, needing something to ground you against the almost dizzying sense of fullness as Blythe sinks deeper inside of you inch by agonizing, amazing inch. You realize at once why he thought to prep you to three fingers, but it is not pain that has your nails scrabbling against his back as you cling tighter to him.

It's the way every inch he sinks deeper has you pulsing around his cock; the way his weight above you presses you down into his sheets like he never wants to part from you; the way his lips suck bruising marks into your pulse; the way he sounds, the shuddering gasps and broken groans breathed right into your ear—

(1) And above it all it's the words spilling from him like the sweat across your brows, rough and breathless and adoring.

"Fuck, you feel—"

"You're so—"

"Perfect, fuck, Aster, you're perfect—"

And it's his fault, it really is, it's his fault because you're already so sensitive, so hyper-aware of his everything, and what right did he have to say your name like that? To talk to you like that? Of course you find yourself pushed to the very edge just as you feel him press flush against the back of your thighs, and realizing you'd taken every last inch of him does things to the both of you.

"Blythe—" Your voice quivers alongside the rest of you, his name nearly a keen as tension winds tighter in your middle, eyes squeezing shut as you tried to hold yourself together just a little bit longer—

(1) Only for them to fly open with a yelp at a stinging smack to your hip.

"Eyes on me," Blythe chooses then to begin to pull back, establishing a rhythm that's slow but deep as you shiver and squeeze around his cock, his words half-groan, half-command, "Want to watch you— cum."

His hips snap forward with a force that steals the breath from your lungs, feeling what scant control you'd mustered beginning to slip as you turn your burning cheek to the side despite his demand—

Only for the sound to taper off into a whimper when strong fingers catch you just under your jaw and turn you back to face him with a strength that brooks no room for argument and the barest little squeeze that sets your already racing heart beating even faster.

Your lashes flutter unsteadily, vision blurring as you desperately try to hold your pleasure at bay when every slam of Blythe's hips threatens to send you careening over the edge.

"Aster," One of his hands slips down from your hip, and your whole body jolts beneath with a stuttering cry as his thumb presses into your clit with tight, devastating little circles, "Cum for me."

(1) And damn him, you do.

A pleasure crashes through you that blinds you to all else; light splintering through a prism as waves of heat burn through your veins. Some distant part of you is sure you're going to be mortified by the noises you're making right now, sure to wake his neighbors, but you cannot stop them anymore that you could the climax currently shattering you to pieces.

And throughout it all, Blythe's rhythm only grows more desperate, the sordid sound nearly as loud as you as he fucks you deeper into his bed — and beneath it all, you can hear his voice, a strained mantra of curses as his fingers squeeze and shake around your hips.

(1) And all at once, even beneath the all-consuming tide of your climax, you're filled with a fierce, singular desire: make Blythe cum — isn't that why you'd come?

(a few times, at this point.)

"Blythe, p-please—" It's all you can do to mewl the words, your voice raw from all your cries and still shuddering through your own release; it takes everything you have to focus up on him with blurry eyes, to keep them on him like he'd wanted because you want to be good for him, "You p-promised— wanna feel you cum i-inside, please—!"

"Fuck—" He tenses above you, every muscle taut as his his hips slam into once, twice more—

Before a scalding heat bursts inside of you as Blythe makes a noise so relieved he sounds almost pained by it, fucking you through his orgasm while the feel of him has you whimpering a new, aftershocks of your own pleasure skittering up your spine.

(1) You all but melt into his sheets, feeling well-fucked and accomplished.

Blythe's lips meet yours in a kiss sweet enough to make your chest warm, hands rubbing up and down your sides as he breathes praise against your lips; how well you'd taken him, how perfect you feel, how perfect you are for him — and you ride an altogether different kind of high, a euphoria that has you shuddering as you coast along cloud-nine.

Before you can sink too deeply into the afterglow, all soft-limbed and sleepy-eyed even as the slow drag of Blythe's cock from inside of you, the spill of his cum making your face flush anew—

(1) You're startled back into full-alert as Blythe rises to his knees and rolls you onto your belly, pulling your hips back towards himself and pushing back inside of you with a groan.

"Blythe?" You shake and squeak below him, twisting to look over your shoulder in time to watch and feel him tug your hips higher, trembling thighs unable to support your own weight but so easily supported by his strength, "D-didn't you just—"

He does not start slow this time, setting a rough pace that quickly finds you keening into his pillows; you're just so sensitive now, pleasure bringing tears to your eyes as you squirm, only to yelp when Blythe answers your wiggling with a spank that makes you squeeze around him for reasons you aren't going to think about.

And then you hear a word you've heard once before tonight already, a pattern he's spent all night establishing as his fingers slip over your hip to find your clit, still flushed and swollen from his loving abuse—

"Again, love."

(1) And for the first time this evening you begin to realize the predicament you'd gotten yourself into. Good luck!

[bacchuschucklefuck]

who is cleric!gorgug the cleric of??

he starts out as a cleric of a (right now unnamed) nascent god of tranquility! or at least that's what the anger management support group guys told him. sadly that then turns out to be a cult recruitment ground and they're actually building the god by feeding it their emotions. I'm not super sure how that'll play out in full yet by the end of freshman year but gorgug does leave the cult when they drop an ultimatum on him.

most of sophomore year has him like. can I? try out deities? and finding out that even when people say yes what they mean by action is they try to compel him to stay and they get miffed that he doesn't stay because he doesn't feel like he fits. when the bad kids uncorrupt cassandra though he's the one who hears how they're also not sure of who they are outside of the deep grief and fear of the nightmare king, and tells them it's okay to take your time for a little bit while figuring it out, and cassandra through that becomes the god of the inbetween. gorgug offers her domain as a stop outside of a faith if you want to leave but need the structure or the support, and he makes a point to never proselytize. this of course is kind of the crux of junior year's arc for him because that doesn't do wonders number-wise lol

[colorful-horses]

Said the S5 finale for Miraculous Ladybug was the final nail in the coffin for me to decide to stop watching it, but ended up deciding to watch the new 'Shadybug and Clawnoir' special because I'm a sucker for the 'evil alternate versions of the main characters' trope. And ohhhhhgg ohhhhh my fucking good

[crustyfloor]

IVANMIZI BEST FRIEND AGENDA GOES STRONG ONCE AGAIN (sharing food preferences...you bestfriends...)

[nameuserlee]

Zayne — Absolute Zeal 🍬🩵

🩵- Screenshots -🩵

🩵 - Kindled scene below the cut + my thoughts/rambling -🩵

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I love this card. I loveeee this card. MC and Zayne giving domestic, married couple vibes while also deepening their relationship by opening up about their feelings and building their trust in each other even further? Sign me UP!!

The role-playing scene at the restaurant was really fun and seeing Zayne play along (and beat MC at her own game) was delightful. And the chair pulling move? Very smooth.

Now. About the liquor-filled chocolate, about MC feeding it to Zayne, and about Zayne’s (and MC’s, very briefly) drunkenness throughout the card. Let’s get into it.

At the end of their restaurant date, MC gets offered two pieces of chocolate by their waiter and is told that they’re filled with liquor. She then proceeds to feed one to Zayne, without mentioning that fact. Zayne only realizes that after he’s eaten it. We are then met for the first time with drunk Zayne.

Now mind you, MC herself is at least a bit buzzed, as she’s been sipping on some wine throughout the night. From her inner thoughts, it is mentioned that she’s “spurred on by the alcohol.” It doesn’t justify or excuse anything, but it’s just something to keep in mind.

Prior to this, MC doesn’t know just how much of a lightweight Zayne truly is. And in her state, she probably wouldn’t question it over a single piece of candy. Even if a bit careless, she just wants to share a treat and savour the buzz with him.

In any case, should MC have told Zayne about the chocolate before to feeding it to him? Yes. But she didn’t. MC is not perfect, but she’s also not this master manipulator who planned for Zayne to get this drunk so she could take advantage of the situation.

Throughout the night, MC happily takes care of Zayne and helps him cool down. Getting him to sit down on the couch so he can rest, checking his temperature, wiping his forehead with a towel, making sure he’s comfortable enough if he were to fall asleep. She also tells him multiple times to take some hangover pills, but he doesn’t want them. And she won’t force him to take them either, her name’s not Jimmy.

(What a big baby, how cute.) Point being, her main goal is to make sure Zayne is alright. Nothing else.

We also get this small exchange between the two that, to me, is very important and hints at what the card really wants us to take away from this whole situation.

Zayne thinks that him being a bit more vulnerable and honest is “embarrassing”. MC immediately shuts that down and reassures him.

“Is showing your true feelings something to be embarrassed about?” Let’s keep that line in mind.

As the night advances, we can tell Zayne sobers up to a certain degree. He takes a (quick) shower, and is sober enough to properly answer a work call.

And then… After a heavy look, we get these lines from Zayne.

This moment right there, is what this card essentially builds up to.

It’s not really about Zayne being drunk and acting differently all of a sudden, or about MC tricking him into doing something he wouldn’t do otherwise. It’s about him learning to let go of his inhibitions, letting go of his constant need of being in control, of being perfect.

It’s about him allowing himself to show his true emotions and desires, especially towards MC.

And throughout the night, (throughout their relationship really), MC has shown him time and time again that she loves and cares him for who he is, “flaws” and all. Zayne isn’t perfect, but she never expected him to be. He is safe with her, and she will never hold his emotions against him. And as he realizes that, he finally gives in to his feelings, and they proceed share a lovely night together.

“Will you hate me for it?” / “I won’t.”

That’s all Zayne needed to hear.

[thecatinthepurplepants]

just scrolling looking at what the crunchyroll algorithm would spit out at me tonight when I came across this category and uh

... the best huh? Aaare you sure???

Are you really, really sure about that crunchyroll???

[vero-niche]

so like. does the merge mark have to be at the sluttiest places or are they just. idk. really into anal

[redsodaz]

something horrible has happened and i now find myself inclined to ask if voltron is still popular on here

[khaire-traveler]

A POST THAT HAS TAKEN ME ABOUT A MONTH IS FINALLY ALMOST DONE HOLY SHIT

[luigixfanxayjay]

i finally did it.

after almost 60 entire hours of gameplay... and numerous mental breakdowns...

i completed brothership. and BOY do i have far too many thoughts.

some thoughts and game review in tags (SPOILER WARNING AHEAD)

[ratatatastic]

happy first ekky goal of the 2425 season AND its unassisted as the double whammy!!! and how due is ekky for a goal?

VERY. VERY VERY DUE. ITS INSANE CONSIDERING HE HAS 12 ASSISTS ON THE SEASON.

wall of love and yearning gus and ekky love IS so real and so true catmin <3

carolina hurricanes @ florida panthers | 11.30.24 (x)(x)(x)(x)