#and that warriors has a slutty little waist

[ghosthoard]

“Later, Twilight would realize that moment was when he first saw Warriors and thought brother.”

Powerful succinct writing! That one sentence lives on in my heart.

Thank you @tenderleavesbob for your writing!

Link to the ficlet!

[badass-queer-couples-battle]

Sword gays showdown, losers bracket (Round 1)

Propaganda:

For Nandor:

He's hilarious, pathetic, awful and used to be a great warrior. He's even pansexual.

Fucking guy

For Zhou Zishu:

he has a magical sword that bends called a whip sword! he keeps it around his slutty waist! it's one of three legendary magical swords made by the (formerly) immortal "ghost hand" swordsmith! his love interest uses it to make dick jokes!

he's an unmatched swordsman that created and led a secret assasin organization and then he retired to get drunk and be gay. he's never lost a fight unless he was at ½ or less of his power (he got terminally ill for a hot second) and the only person that compares to his skill is his husband, the former leader of the ghost valley. he's so babygirl and so gorgeous and so swordy.

he's got a special little bendy sword and he's my girlfriend (don't tell his husband)

He's already super dangerous with just his hands and random objects he picks up (from a stone Buddha statue he throws at a bunch of assailants in early chapters to flinging a clothes button right /through/ a man's wrist), but once he pulls out a sword, you know it's for real. He's gonna disarm a dozen people in a few seconds - as in, literally, he cut off a bunch of people's arms because they were trying to kill his bf, - or cut a "十" into someone's throat. He's especially hot... ahem, proficient with his personal sword, Baiyi, which is a soft sword - allowing it to pass defenses by bending in motion. Very fitting for a sneaky assassin & spy like Zhou Zishu!

[evita-shelby]

Prove it

Version of my only other Namor x reader one shot with the dialogue in English.(spanish dialogue)

Gif by @unicornspwnall

You weren’t born yesterday.

There was no possible way for this fucking historical hotel was truly haunted.

There was no cool poltergeist, no ghost ladies giggling in the floral room where the hacienda’s owner’s daughter died suddenly in the eighties, and there was no fucking way there were Mayan Warriors with blue skin led by fucking K’uk’ulkan himself to pay homage to the big rock in the garden.

That had to be some idiot they had hired from town.

You bet your shitty paycheck you knew that dumbass in the slutty green shorts.

“How much are the paying you to do this bullshit every December?” you ask as the man stares at you in horror.

“What?” the man asks before cursing you in Yucatec Mayan, an older type with like no Spanish in it whatsoever.

But it’s still the same language, so you insult him back, which makes it worse.

Especially when you slip back into Spanish and he acts like you just spat in his face.

“This is my mother’s sacred grave!” he shouts at you in Spanish, but you don’t buy it. He is too real looking to be a ghost, that vein popping out on his forehead and the way he gets close enough for you to feel the warmth of a human being lecturing you on your rudeness.

“Yes, I know that is the grave of a woman, but I seriously doubt a woman in the 16th century has a , I don’t know, thirty year old son in the year 2020.” You cross your arms and stand your ground.

Would he be offended if you ask him out for drinks at the shitty hotel cantina once you two get over this?

“And if I told you I am over five hundred years old?” he continues with the farce, and you wonder if its worth it to have another wannabe actor fuck buddy here.

“I’d say you look pretty fit for a five-hundred-year-old geezer, but I’d sooner believe that you get five hundred pesos to show up in such little clothing every fucking winter.” You answer with a scoff, five hundred pesos was a shit rate, that was barely fifty dollars. The cute girl from the local University got paid twice that to do her fake shaman tarot reader bullshit every month.

This fucker should ask Rigo the Owner for more.

He laughs, a slightly bitter thing that tells you he is this close to just killing you outright.

He is handsome, you give him that. And well endowed, which is probably why Rigo’s slutty much younger wife chose him.

The feathers and his outfit look legit, too real, especially the fake jade jewelry. You had to hand it to him, the nose plug and the earrings looked pretty fucking good.

“I would kill you, but I wouldn’t dishonor my mother’s grave with the blood of an idiot who can’t see the difference between a human man and the god, K’uk’ulkan!” he exclaims and you think he may be right.

If the Norse had sexy Thor and whatever his goth brother was, if the Americans can defrost Captain America like frozen meat, maybe, just maybe the weirdo standing here was the Serpent God of Mesoamerica.

Could explain why he looked the same in all the photos since cameras were invented.

Could the man you’ve infuriated so much that he stands there breathing hard and clenching his fists to avoid hitting you be the god, K’uk’ulkan?

“If you really are a god… then prove it.” You say goading him into proving he was fraud. If he is a fraud, he will do anything to make you forget it, like kiss you in anger and get the two of you fired for hate fucking where some of the guests can see you.

You hope he is a fraud; it has been so long since you’ve had a good fuck.

He smiles, one that makes you shake in your metaphorical boots, as he took you by the waist and flew with the weird little wings on his ankles.

“Holy fuck.” You utter as he flies you to the beach.

[helloiamadrawer]

I already said it but I'll say it again this does not make me a furry

Dyspo NSFW Alphabet

A-Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Dyspo is the mfing king of aftercar, quick to run you a bath or just grab some towels to clean yourself up and him as well, or just simply a nice cuddle session. Mans is all hands on deck when it comes you.

B-Body parts (their fav body part of theirs and also their partners)

It may sound pretty obvious coming from the supersonic warrior, but it's his legs 100%. On his partner however, it may be their legs as well or either their captivating eyes. Especially your waist, definitely his favorite place to hold you by.

C-Cum (anything that has to do with cum, basically)

His is on the thick but milky side. Being a rabbit with a built in breeding he's a messy cummer as well (lol). Unless you're not into the whole breeding thing he loves to cum on your stomach or if you're giving him oral, definitely your face. As for the taste, it depends on his diet. He could taste sweet one day and then a little bitter the next.

D-Dirty Secret (a dirty secret of theirs ;) )

To make love/have sex in every single one of his comrades' rooms (EXCEPT JIREN'S). Not because he has grudges for them but because he's adventurous like that sometimes (and horny). Let's say everyone is gone one day except for Dyspo (cause hey, someone has to protect the base) first thing he'll do is call you up and ask you if you want to hang out cause he's "bored" and next thing you know, y'all are heading to whoever's room doing it, but you two make sure to get a few essentials so no one will find out hehe.

E-Experience (are they experienced and do they know what they're doing?)

I think that Dyspo did have a couple one night stands in his past, so I would say he's mildly experienced and is confident in what he can do to satisfy you.

F-Favorite position

His definite fav is probably Face-Off, it gives you both the passionate but searing eye contact whilst making love. But more reason behind it is because when is Dyspo is thrusting up into you, he gets to watch your face contort in mixes of pain/pleasure. That or a whole ass mating press if he's really feeling it but is willing to experiment with other sex positions as well.

G-Goofy (are they more serious in the moment or are they humorous, etc?)

When he's usual chill self he would crack a joke or two if you did something silly or if he did but after that it's serious from there. Now, if he comes back from let's say...a very adrenaline coursing battle, yeah no jokes, bed. Now.

H-Hair (how groomed are they and does the carpet match the drapes?)

Okay i may be wrong, but it would be at least a little tuft of black down there. He tries to keep it tamed but his job as a Pride Trooper gets in the way of it sometimes.

I-Intimacy ( how are they in the moment? Romantic aspect)

He can be romantic don't get me wrong but he likes the playful aspect of it and the teasing..and the physical touch as well. Play fighting with Dyspo will always lead to tender or rough sex. Best believe he can be passionate for you as well, making love until the sunrise.

J-Jack off (do they masturbate? headcanon)

UM OF COURSE THIS MAN MASTURBATES

You're talking about a rabbit who has a high libido, plus it's a stress reliever as well. Also if you have the same libido level as him that turns on his mutual masturbation kink into overdrive.

K-Kinks

Dyspo's kinks are

Breeding-where do I start with this? He's mostly a soft dom when he's feeling soft, but when he gets to pounding you full of his hot seed, no regrets he's a h a r d dom af. Rearranging your walls and molding your slutty hole to fit his cock and his cock only hours on end until you can't walk the next day. Cherishes the idea of you carrying his child/children.

Mutual Masturbation- so if you're not into the breeding thing. This is one of his alternative kinks. God, the image of you using a wand against your clit and shuddering to him stroking his leaking, aching member in front of you is so fucking hot to him it's not even funny, he'll probably just cum so quick over that.

Marking-slight kink but he loves to mark your thighs, or your neck, or your chest--hell he loves all of you so one may be on your ass one day and not notice until you do lmao

L-Location

Not anywhere in public but the base when no one's there or his bedroom.

M-Motivation

Headcanon: wear stockings or some pretty thigh highs and he will pounce on you or drag you to the bedroom instantly. What can I say? He's a leg kind of man.

Sexting is another thing that riles him up easily. Picture it, you're in your bedroom at your house and you decide to risk it today and send Dyspo a picture of you on your knees in your sports bra and panties and to top it off, your fav stockings he likes and when he receives the pic, best believe he's gonna (get hard, duh) and reply with something cocky like, " u tryna get yourself pinned to mattress today aren't ya baby? Keep going like that and see what happens when I come over there >:)"

Or simply just dirty talk. If you're shy l, then be prepared to have your face set aflame by his lewd suggestions when he's outside of work.

N-No

Being a hero to the public means no sex anywhere except the bedroom and his or your place.

O-Oral

HE'S 👏GOOD👏AT👏BOTH

Giving oral to you only took him a good minute before he masters the art of ravaging your cunt with tongue. And don't get me started with the eye contact during it, he adores the view of you squirming under him with just a lustful glance of his golden eyes between your thighs. Slowly dragging his tongue against your sensitive nub and then growl, "mine." which sends vibrations through your slit and he knows how much you like vibrations if yk yk ;), if you come on his face, it's over for you cause he wants you to do it again 😩 all in all makes him feral.

Receiving is sort of the same, his pelvis easing his cock into your mouth to shut you up while he does some computer work in his office, hoping no one comes in cause of the marvelous head you're giving him. Gagging on his length, your ears are on alert footsteps but your boyfriend of a rabbit starts whimpering, they're focused on his sounds now and Lord...he sounds fucking amazing when he's hopelessly under your control and it only gets worse (or better for you), he starts moaning when hes coming, you can decide to swallow it or let him cum on your face. Whatever option is the best for him it's alright with you. Although he feels kind of ashamed that he's made a mess on you.

P-Pace (are they fast and rough? Or slow and sensual?)

It would depend on the mood he's in. If you tell him you're straight up horny..get ready, he's already ran to your room or about to wrap your legs on his broad shoulders if you're near him. He's more of a fan for sensual and slow sex cause he likes the build up and especially the result after.

HOWEVER, after a fight with a challenging villain, he'll rip your clothes off as fast as you can say his name and as fast you'll be praising it when he's almost balls deep slamming in your pussy. The ferality intensifies as well, growling curses and snarling praises all over the place until you both reach your climaxes.

Q-Quickies (their opinion on quickies)

Quickies and Dyspo are a good match, he doesn't mind knocking one out before he has to go to work. But he can't compare it to love making though.

R-Risk

Noted in the 'No' section.

S-Stamina (how many rounds can go for?)

The Fastest in the Multiverse can go as many rounds as you like. Usually 3-4

T-Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? On themselves or their partner?)

Dyspo doesn't really have any toys...

But does like using yours on you ;) a dildo that's his right length and girth, sliding it in and out of your sopping wet hole. Vibrators? God, yes. You know there are rabbit vibrators, right? He's definitely buying you one for your birthday or an anniversary present just for the PUN of it but the fun too *wink wink*

U-Unfair (how much do they like to tease)

He can be the sweetest bunny boy alive...but sometimes he likes to be a cocky, evil bastard in bed. He will know when you're close to your orgasm and slowly pull back when going down on you with a shit eating smirk on his face. Will have you sinking down on his cock to chase his own release, even though you came multiple times. But it's 50/50 on that...well..unless you ask 😏

V-Volume (how loud are they? What sounds do they make?, etc.)

Dyspo is quiet at the start, breathing maybe some shuddering from you already turning him on so much. From there it'll escalate into dirty praises and moans and some growling when he's close. So not actually loud that the neighbors can hear lol.

W-Wild Card (random hc for character)

His long ears are sensitive to touch. So please for the love of god, nibble them or blow on them, maybe massage the back of them after sex it will lull him to sleep, trust me. But do any of that and you will receive a moan/shiver, it's cute but hot at the same time. Don't pull them though, it's a turn off unfortunately.

X-Xray (let's see what's going on under those clothes..)

This purple rabbit is quite impressive physique-wise. His cock is about 6 1/2 inches long with a prominent vein on the left of it as it usually hangs slightly to the right. Medium girth but never fails to make your walls flutter with ectsasy.

Y-Yearning (how high is their sex drive)

Moderately high/high as stated in the J section. It doesn't get in the way of being a universal hero and training but he loves to come back having the high strung energy of a rabbit he likes to hop to it (okay I'll stop with the jokes) and just strip off his clothes and take you to the bed to have sex every day if he wanted. (With breaks to eat and stuff ofc.)

Z-Zzzzzzz...(how quickly they sleep afterwards)

It's either..

He's out like a light...cuddling with you, big spoon as always cause that's his role in the cuddling department heehee 😊. Or be the aftercare king 👑 and run you a nice, warm bath while he chills on the bed, ears alert if you need anything from him (maybe another round after ;) )

[squashbone]

korean mmo fantasy designs always design men as power sluts and women as just regular dainty sluts and its honestly so intolerable

like a male warrior will have his titties out, midrift exposed, a slutty little waist, and juicy thighs

and the lady has long hair, big boobs, thin arms, and a resin doll face every single time

[savagesbonergarage]

A quickie with Maul WITHOUT PLOT

Hmmm....

Wise of you to add that on the end there.... But is it gonna be effective? We'll see.

I'm gonna make this 100% just self-indulgent porn since that's really all it needs to be right

I'm malfunctioning how did they get there what's the occasion and the timeline and the state of the relationship and the galaxy and ahhhhhhhh okay I need to get it together

UPDATE: LMAO IT’S SO LONG AND THERE’S KIND OF SOME PLOT, I FAILED SO EXPONENTIALLY HARD. 🤡

(A/N - General ns/fw, definitely more explicit than not, but overall still not super hard stuff?, quickie, bj, power kink I guess?, hidden feelings, I think that’s about it honestly, if I’m missing something let me know)

Throne sex? Throne sex.

Maul

"... And Prime Minister Almec's influence has recruited warriors from among the civilians who would join our cause," you reported.

You stood alone before Lord Maul, who sat in his signature pose with his mechanical leg propped up atop the throne of Mandalore, resting his head on his hand as he gazed out the large transparisteel pane with a look of complete boredom and disinterest. He didn't even bother to look your way as he responded drily. "Fascinating."

You were tempted to raise your eyebrow sightly, but even though he wasn't looking at you, the fear of confrontation kept you from doing so.

"Will there be anything else, My Lord?"

The zabrak finally managed to direct some of his attention to you, his menacing eyes looking you up and down as his countenance changed with an ominous smirk. "Yes. How long before my blissful solitude is once again interrupted?"

You immediately checked the chrono on your datapad, afraid that you may have caught your new leader in an agitated state. The last thing you wanted was to be a recipient of his anger if you displeased him somehow, so you opted to simply be efficient in the tasks you were given. "You have a meeting in about eight minutes, My Lord."

"I see..."

Something about the way he was intently gazing at you made you uneasy, as though you weren't quite finished here and were expected to know why. You straightened your posture and put your datapad away before you geared up to leave. "Do you require anything else of me, Lord Maul?"

There was a new look in his eyes, something you hadn't ever seen until now, and the sudden change in contrast from before of his full and immediate attention on you sent a strange, yet not unwelcome shiver coursing through your body. Somehow you felt the previous uneasiness slip away and in its place was...dare you acknowledge it...want? Whether it was involuntary or not, the powerful man before you had you wishing there really was more you could do for him.

His gaze was nearly leaving burning holes everywhere his golden eyes tracked on you, each place they lingered a pathway into some rather inappropriate thoughts as it was fairly obvious exactly which parts he was shamelessly staring at. What's more, you didn't mind it in the slightest. You felt a little exposed, but in such a delicious way. Could you truly be tempting him, or was he simply teasing you in some show of authority over you - or was he really just that bored?

Suddenly, your train of thought ended when Maul planted his leg back onto the ground and unflinchingly brought his gloved hands down to work at the sealing strip of his pants. You barely registered what was happening before an impressive phallic appendage was gloriously revealed, held between two of his fingers at the base as an offering. Despite being synthetic, it twitched and leaked just like-

"Well?" he implored nonchalantly with his non-existent brow raised in a curious manner.

It was too late to conceal the slack of your jaw and flush of your face, your heart pounding as you finally processed the reality in front of you. Reflexively, you swallowed and looked over your shoulder and then back to find that this wasn't some kind of joke or game, but a genuine request. It was a miracle you managed to speak coherently at all.

"Erm, right now, My Lord...? In eight minutes-"

"Seven, now," he interjected, adjusting himself to present his lap as a rather inviting seat, "but surely your schedule permits?"

He did have a point - and who were you to deny the needs of your handsome new ruler? You did make an obligation to yourself to do your tasks efficiently, and it wasn’t as though you were hesitant about the prospect of it, either. No, with an opportunity having presented itself like this, it would be suboptimal not to show your enthusiasm, wouldn’t it? Not to mention time was of the essence now, unless you were fine with a group of officials walking in on you fornicating with the dangerous zabrak...which, as you pondered the possibility, it only served to send that pluming heat within you to entirely new heights. He certainly wouldn’t stop if that were to be the case, and a hidden part of you hoped that it would indeed work out that way, if only so you could feel more like Maul’s favored slut.

You wondered if this was solely due to the influence of the beckoning sith atop his throne, or if you had secretly always been such a promiscuous person - in any case, it hardly mattered. The priority of the moment was in being a good little subject and serving your master, and perhaps if you did a suitable job, you’d be given the privilege of doing it again. In a bout of courage that faintly surprised you, you found yourself at the foot of his throne standing mere centimeters from his legs, careful not to touch him unless instructed to as you ardently asked the most important question of the evening.

“How would you like it, My Lord...?” You didn't bother to hide the sultriness in your voice, which seemed to please him immensely as the corner of his lip curled into a scheming smile, his hands quickly moving to your waist to pull you in closer as he answered.

"I trust in your discretion to satisfy me. I believe you already know what I want, and it seems that you're certainly eager to give it."

His hand slid over your thigh and to the source of your radiating heat, burrowing his digits between the crevice that the fabric of your pants was unfortunately shielding from the supple flesh there, yet that didn't prevent his touch from being any less euphoric. It might have embarrassed you somewhat at just how apparent your eagerness was, however it was clear that the man working at your own sealing strip was enjoying the spoils of your arousal already. His words still rang throughout your mind, making you relish in the freedom and permission that was implied there - he was asking you to be as slutty as you wanted, knowing full well that you were ready to be his whore the moment you first laid eyes on him.

He wasn't wrong.

With his affirmation to take charge and the ever-present knowledge that you were pressed for time at the forefront of your mind, you relaxed your inhibitions and got to work. After a few more ruts against his hand, his grip followed yours to your waistband and aided in tugging the annoying material to the floor, returning one to it's former place on your slick flesh as you stepped out of your pants and boots. It was impossible to suppress the moan that escaped your lips, however, you were aware that this wasn't solely for your pleasure.

Six minutes left.

You quickly got down on your knees and carefully handled his cock, licking your lips before you kissed the tip of the wet slit and wrapped your hot mouth around the circumference of the ridge, swiftly lapping your tongue around the head before you started sucking. His groan of approval fueled your movements as you gradually unhinged your jaw and began going deeper, bobbing your head with every stroke and eventually taking him as far as you possibly could. You gagged a little, but it didn't deter you in the slightest as every time you choked on him, a moan was drawn from his lips.

Not only could he feel everything despite not having an organic organ, your ministrations were proving to be more than what he was anticipating as he groaned and moved to grab a fistful of your hair to still your actions. Your hungry eyes meet his as you drew your head back and released his cock with a loud, echoing, wet pop and licked away the string of saliva that connected it with your bottom lip.

"Is everything all right, My Lord?" you inquired with a perverse lowness in your voice, already drunk on lust as he held you in place for a moment before slapping your waist in a gesture to rise through his uneven breaths.

"Up."

You complied with his order, lifting yourself back onto your feet as Maul practically pulled you into his lap by your thighs in a hasty move that nearly had you falling against his chest, but you were able to brace yourself against his arms. His dick rested against your abdomen, still warm and wet from your tongue as his fingers found their way back to your entrance to prep you for his cock. The way he tilted you upwards to lightly jerk himself with your own slick as he lined up with you was so tantalizingly good that you nearly forgot about the time constraint you faced.

Four minutes.

Your canines pierced your bottom lip as he entered you, the galvanizing pressure against your walls as you adjusted to him being so invigoratingly good that your hands gripped his shoulders without warning as you moved to sink down completely, ripping a gasp from the both of you in unison. You knew that you’d need an entire minute just to get used to the feeling of being so full, although sadly you couldn’t afford that kind of time in the present moment. 

Maul, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be too preoccupied with that particular technicality and held you firmly by your hips to keep you from shifting, and in an unanticipated move he rested his forehead along the curve of your neck. The heat of his skin and breath tingled across your own flesh, the sensation strangely more intimate than the actual joining of your bodies - rather, it felt like a different kind of intimacy entirely. It wasn’t merely in the way his grip on you remained solid or the new titillation of his lips against your skin; it was in the stillness of it all, how instead of insisting you ride him immediately, he preferred to simply feel you for an evanescent occasion, no matter how brief. 

You momentarily forgot the apprehension you had when the compulsion to kiss him infiltrated your mind - not the sort of lustful kiss that would be more appropriate for the situation, but a tender, more profound one. Would he mind such a gesture, you wondered, or would he even be able to discern the difference? One of his hands had moved from your waist up to the nape of your neck as you thought this, eliciting a soft moan from your mouth as he lured you in closer to him until you were chest-to-chest, the indication of the motion prompting you to wrap your arms around his neck so that you were symmetrical to one another.

Two minutes. Only two minutes until...

There simply wasn’t time for this kind of lenient indulgence or immersion, nor did the circumstances permit for the kind of casual affection you wanted to deliver. There was also the fear of him retaliating against a more tender action if he caught one to consider, so with a whisper of a sigh, you started rocking and bucking your hips against him.

Maul had been uncharacteristically quiet up until this point, an audible “oh!” escaping him as you continued your movements and utilized your nether muscles to grip his shaft with an ample amount of tightness. You fully planted your knees on either side of him and adjusted yourself so you could ride him properly - and in this case, that meant clutching onto his dick for dear life while you jerked up and down along his entire length like a jackhammer. 

His head rolled back and his eyes became half-lidded, the rapid rising and falling of his chest indicating his closeness as he kept one of his palms on your leg to grip the meat of your thigh for support. For the first time in minutes, he finally spoke again through a strangled groan.

“That’s it, stars it’s so...”

His train of thought seemed to leave him as you worked him even harder, somehow taking him even deeper when you kegeled with the entirety of his cock inside. A twinge of pain indicated that his cockhead was nearly breaching your cervix, a fact that might have concerned you if there was any reason to believe you could get pregnant - and even if there was...you weren’t so sure you would care. 

Less than a minute-

Luckily, it wasn’t long before you felt the crimson zabrak tense up beneath you and hold your hips tightly against him once more as he came, the spasming of his cock followed by the release of heat that filled your insides as he stilled and...

...and kissed you.

He had grabbed the nape of your neck again and brought your mouth to his all in one swift movement, capturing your lips with his own in a surprisingly graceful manner. It wasn’t chaste, his tongue immediately finding yours and warring with it as the dual beating in his chest matched the continuous pulsing of his gradually softening dick, but the action still caught you off-guard nonetheless. It certainly wasn’t unwelcome, and you found yourself matching his pace until he eventually relaxed, breathlessly parting from your lips and leaning back into his seat. 

There wasn’t much time to even think, as over the sound of your breaths you could hear the faint echo of footsteps down the hall fast-approaching. You quickly pushed yourself off of Maul’s lap and frantically gathered your pants, managing to hastily get each of your legs through the proper channels and hoist the waistband over your hips, still fumbling with the sealing strip while you faced your master as a barrage of stomping boots was perceived behind you. You ruler had managed to tuck himself back into his own trousers in time, a sly smirk hidden beneath his otherwise fierce countenance as he addressed you.

“We’ll continue this conversation where we left off later tonight.”

Your heart couldn’t help but skip a beat. He was wanting to see you again, to have you service him again after this agreeably satisfying evening. You nodded, a faint smile gracing your features as you bowed and turned to leave, brushing past the officials entering the throne room who were none the wiser about the sinful conduct you’d engaged in with Lord Maul of Mandalore.

You still secretly wished the session would have continued longer than it had despite the newfound company.

And you certainly hoped to continue meeting and surpassing Maul’s expectations in the bedroom - or wherever he saw fit - for a long while to come.

[finn-ray-nal-beads]

Ok, but tell me about the first night with your three AU assholes. How do they hit on you? Do they have a pick up line? How do they convince you that they’re the shit? Then, how do they keep you coming back for more?

@safarigirlsp , OF COURSE, YOU COME IN WITH THIS HOT ASS GARBAGE RN AND I LOVE EVERY BIT OF IT BITCH!

OUR FIRST NIGHT WITH CAPTAIN BLOWHOLE AND HIS BAND OF BUCCANEERS: 

of course, finds our slutty asses at some backwoods brothel, and our tits are hiked up to high heaven and we look like we’re askin’ for a good time from anyone we can get our hands-on. He’s not as forward as you’d think he would be, staring us down with his iron-clad gaze from across the bar, taking our movements as our tits struggle in that corset he so badly wants to tear off us in front of God and everyone watching. He finally gets the courage after the 6th man has been turned down by you and their advances, gulps down his liquid courage, adjusts his cap, and stands to his full height to waltz over to you. 

“Hey there sailor,” you notice out of the corner of your eye, “lookin’ for a good time?” 

“Depends on what you can offer lil’ lady,” he smirks at your forwardness. 

“What I can offer huh?” you chuckle at the thought, “last time I checked, you were the one who approached me, sir. So, I should be asking you what your plans are with a lil’ fragile thing like myself.” 

He smacked his lips together, bringing a hand to your synched waist and lowering his face to your ear, “careful there honey, you know you’re speaking to a captain.” 

You shudder at the deep richness in his tone, but gathered yourself to comment back, “you’re not the first captain to storm my shores. What makes you so damn special?” 

He lifted his head to loom over you like a child being scolded by their parents, bringing his hand up to your throat, clasping the delicate skin just enough to make you moan out, “oh little whore,” he marveled at your mewls, “once I’ve run aground through you, you’ll never want your lil’ hole pillaged by any other sailor. Swear to Davey Jones himself,” letting the grip go as you gasped, clutching your tits as if he’d already ravished you. 

“What do ya say, lil’ lady... you wanna right my main mast or settle for deck swabbers the rest of your miserable life?” extending a hand out waiting for yours to land in it. 

Of course, you’d take it and never look back. And of course, he had the biggest and best dick on the entire ocean to which you begged for every second of the day and he gave you on cue whenever you damn well wanted it. 

NOW ONTO OUR FIRST NIGHT WITH THIS IS SPARTA AND HIS SEXY ASS BULLSHIT: 

Since this is ancient Roman times, our first night together was our wedding night. You and he were betrothed by your parents and offered to the most powerful warrior in the village as a prize. You weren’t courted by him due to the fact that he was busy fighting in wars as well as he really didn’t have to win your ass over for any reason. You were his no matter what and your purpose to him was merely a vessel for his seed. 

But when he caught a glimpse of the beauty, the regality, and the poise you emanated, he fell head over fuckin’ heels. The second the marriage was sealed, he decided he was going to try. Try to make you love him, to pine for him, to beg for his cock like he desperately wanted. The reception was full of fine food and drink, coupled with tons of conversation amongst the warriors and the senators present for the nuptials. Flip noticed your uncomfortable behaviors towards a certain member of the senate when he was advancing himself onto you. He barreled over in an instant, barring the man from getting any further with his new wife, warning him of the consequences if he did lay a finger on you. Upon his departure, Flip turned to you, putting both hands on your cheeks, “are you alright my dove?” he cooed as if you’d both been together for centuries. 

“Y-yes,” you froze in shock at his tenderness, “thank you,” bringing your hands slowly up to caress his calloused ones. 

“Good,” he mused, smiling and bringing you into his body by your waist, “I will never leave your side, my love. I will always protect you.” 

You nodded, slightly embarrassed about your damsel in distress behavior, but secretly thanking the gods for picking a man who seemed to care about you. 

The rest of the night was full of love and laughter, and of course, Flip never leaving your side no matter what was happening. 

“Would you accompany me to our quarters?” he whispered in your ear as you gazed at the dancers performing a ritual before the both of you.

You looked to him, and nodded, kissing his cheek as he lifted you in a bridal carry towards your marital home and bed. From that moment on, you fell head over heels for your warrior, only wanting to please him in the best ways possible and provide him with everything you could. 

AND LASTLY OUR FIRST NIGHT WITH HUCKLEBERRY AND HIS BULLSHIT: 

Cowboy Flip wasn’t one to really be into the women-folk. He stuck to his guns, working as a ranch hand and putting in a good day from sun up to sun down no matter what. So, finding him at a bar or brothel was few and far between. He recently answered an ad from a local farmer looking for a reputable rancher who could deal with wild horses being tamed as well as had ranch hand experience. Flip of course jumped at the opportunity to break a Philly or two and rode out to the old man’s farm. 

He was put to back-breaking work, hauling hay, feedin’ hogs, harvesting crops, bringin’ round the cows, takin’ care of the horses, and stock. The labor was grunt work to which he didn’t appreciate, and he was thinkin’ about quittin’ it all together... but then, he caught a glimpse of the farmer’s daughter... which happened to be you. 

You’d just come home from a journey with your mother, lookin’ all kinds of cowgirl pretty. Flip was speechless, removing his hat and nodding with his mouth gaping open like a codfish. 

“H-howdy there ma’am,” he managed to put together as you approached the stable he’d was leanin’ on. 

“Well howdy there to you too, cowboy,” you smiled at him, picking up a saddle from the ground to take to your horse inside, “name’s Y/N. Daddy told me he’d hired a new ranch hand.” 

“Y-yeah,” he said, following you like a lost puppy. 

“Well you ain’t too bad lookin’ either,” you chuckled, takin’ in the bulge becoming ever more present in his Wranglers. 

“Ya like what ya see cowgirl?” he noticed your wanderin’ eyes, regaining control after his gawking. 

“Well, I can’t say I hate lookin’,” you smile back up at him, biting your lips as you drop the saddle on the hay. 

“What’s a man got to offer a lil’ lady like myself huh?” crossing your arms to stand your ground. 

“Oh darlin’,” he smirked, moving closer to you, hats touching each other, “I’m your fuckin’ Huckleberry,” grabbing your belt buckle to pull you into a searing kiss. 

And we all know how kinky this man gets in the good ol’ Wild West... if not, then refer back to the threads from the last few weeks... they’re interesting to say the least.... 👀🤤😂

I FUCKIN HATE HOW BADLY THESE MEN LIVE IN MY MIND AND ITS ALL YOUR FAULT BITCH!😂🖤

[yespoetry]

Caolan Madden: Counterfactual

FRIGID BITCH

Uhhh I prefer sex-negative feminist?

The guy who scoffed it’s easy to be bisexual if you have zero sex drive

The idea I had of a kiss when I had never been kissed, the idea of like a fountain/and like a field of flowers/and like/settling your heels and shoulderblades into the floor/the idea of surface tension

My dad’s friend Phil, when I was fourteen, in the car, I can’t remember the joke. I watched my lipsticked disapproving mouth in the rearview mirror

I asked J, do you think I’d be a slut if I had the chance. J said, I think slutty from the waist up

They must be picking up on something

Kaleidoscope of hormones, the strangest flowers, double blooms, inversions, every time you shake the cylinder, recombinant, call them frostflowers, those blue crystals, snowflakes. Call it clinical. What burst into bloom when I stopped/when I started. My soul is spiraling in frozen fractals all around. How hot are yours? Your orange lilies, orange blossoms, you blushing brides, my bad science: Schrödinger’s sex drive, we can’t know until we take each other’s temperature, but. Killing frost. Check the evidence of architecture: have you ever put your fist through the wall? Wallflower, wallpaper, stay in bed, diagnose yourself, try to raise your core temperature

At the conference I found myself making small talk about Taylor Swift, how the best thing about her is that all the boys complain that she only wants to kiss. She buys all those houses for kissing in, overlooking the sea.

Cold shower, dead drop. Your heart beating, the only heat signature for fathoms.

COUNTERFACTUAL

those days when gentlemen used their own thoughts as evidence, experimented on their brains by thinking, then wrote a treatise and kids still have to read those and write papers about them: this table here and smack it the color blue is a quality but not I can hold the color blue in my mind separate from or like my friend’s husband who used to stop breathing until he had visions Is that different? It’s in the tradition

I use my body to feel the history of sexuality & you use your mind & we talk about it the physical revulsion, the revulsion that’s protecting something I love to theorize about my body as a microcosm in the absence of medical knowledge or supervision its millions of stars bearing debris from real stars If I had really been straight I would have felt but on the other hand if I had settled down in Providence feels very much like if I had slept with this guy junior year if I had married. but also if I had a bike & waited tables if I had been blonde. The stars in my body reveal that high-school boys are decorative, or grace, or power. If you had seen me first wanting to be looked at, against cobblestones Desire is different, weirder, declares my body, a coming-closer, or a shudder thirty-six hours later, then years later, in the park where no one actually would have wanted to lose her virginity at twilight in a linen dress

  QUIETING MUSE

I shall never get out of this said Plath in plaster, a yellow rose in a stiff white vase. But I think you don’t miss her ’til she’s gone: at eighteen, sweating in my dorm, I scribbled doppelganger elegies, remembering our doubled bones, our doubled fat bright in the cauldron of a summer-long half-nelson. Sister soup, I wrote, the only sisterless girl on my floor. I must have meant it. I must have missed her. When her shape filled up with flecks of talk, like tin confetti, high and thin and cold, her opposite. There was an absence. Who was she? What was she for? Reading my diaries? Listening behind me on the sidewalk. De Beauvoir said that Diderot said you all die at fifteen and I really felt it then at seventeen The one who died. I only know her from that doppelganger poem and from the caught breath at the double, at the hinge, the horn, the heroine in someone else’s. Even the tumor with its eyeballs. Even Emily-in-the-glass. Wallpaper. Why say divided. Why not doubled, why not luxury. She has her nails done in some strip mall in the South. She waits ’til I'm alone again. Some weekend. Some other life. She’ll stir a little, say hello. I'm not afraid.

from Dazzling Dresses: A Princess Activity Book

Uriel at Yale 1

In Physics for Poets, Ursula twirling her ankle-socked foot leaned over the aisle and murmured about the Velvet Underground and sucked her pencil expectantly. O how the auditorium filled up at that very moment, and the glittering ink spilled out of Uriel’s pen nib! Under the ground the velvet corridors were plush with newts and stalactites like staghorn sumac (another class she took with Ursula was “Local Flora.”) Under the water Uriel’s sisters embroidered their names on the delicate edges of manta rays; in her dorm room she lifted them from Fed Ex boxes, stroked their velvet coats absently, bent over a villanelle. The refrain was, “If you had seen my face above a wave”; her word processor had shorted out when she spilled a cup of beer on it one Friday early in the term, so now she wrote in longhand. Outside the second spring-term snow was falling.

MOTHERGLUT

It’s all coming back to me like I whistled and those rats came running white foaming pattering their backs undulating screaming stat screaming code white

I gained all those pounds on purpose I poured them on me like milk I put them in a jar and weighed them on a scale and stood beneath the scale and POURED

Until I was the white queen of fat Umbrella of leaf-lard Rat-queen redolent of lard Pelt of a thousand rats yawning Wicked stepmother luxuriously padded with the milk of with the blood of virgins

O medical establishment we are sorry to have been so sedentary We are sorry about our bad memories I am sorry that I poured the leaf lard on my memory I am sorry that I do nothing nothing nothing but make this enormous baby to fill up my hungry cradle Sorry the baby’s made of a thousand fat rats teeming over the ward and swallowing the tinies Sorry about its thousand mouths full of seed pearls Sorry that I forgot and made a blowjob baby out of swallowing If you could just lie down and do it the normal way just remember to just lie down             but also do some light cardio swimming for example, maybe some journaling

If there were more poems more dissertation more candies there would be less baby there would be less marvelous mantle creamtop mantle, glorious mantle, gluttonous mantle

I veiled the two of us               the thousand-and-one-of-us in my supreme gorgeous idleness

These poems originally appeared in our ebook The Queer Body.

Caolan Madden holds an MFA from Johns Hopkins and a PhD in English literature from Rutgers. Her poems have appeared in Iron Horse Literary Review, Bone Bouquet, Black Warrior Review, Posit, Anthropoid, Split Lip, and Supplement. Her chapbook VAST NECROHOL was published last spring by Hyacinth Girl Press; as a member of the feminist poetry collective (G)IRL, she’s also a co-author of the collaborative chapbook GIRL TALK TRIPTYCH (dancing girl press, 2016).

[angelynrostrand]

Chapter 22

Summary:  To the outside world, nothing should connect shy girl Angel Monroe and popular boy Xavier Hazelwood. But that isn't entirely true. They both hold secrets. Behind both of them lie 2 separate wolf packs. Xavier is well on his way to Alpha status and running the pack. Angel is not a wolf but instead the last healer in the world. When the realization comes forward that they are connected by destiny, will they decide to fulfill it? Is their connection predetermined by fate or will they choose their hearts? Lives and packs cross and mingle while romance and conflict brews. The story of 2 opposite souls on a collision path. Will destiny win out? Even the most innocent face, has the darkest secrets.

Word Count: 2,241

https://www.zibbet.com/prettylady/mermaid-off-the-shoulder-floor-length-red-sequined-prom-dress

 I went back to my room to relax. While sketching with music in the background my phone buzzes in my lap. Sage is calling me. I gladly answer it with excitement. “Hello?”

“PLEASE! HELP! ANGEL, HELP ME!” my phone screams at me causing me to stand up.

“Sage! Are you ok?”

“I am fine. I just want to get your attention.” Sage laughs at her dark humor. I take a deep breath and sit back down.

“That was not funny.” 

“Yes, it was.” She laughs in between. “Come on it, it was funny.” 

I gave up on my pride and laugh along. “Fine, it was funny. Do you have to a question of a reason for calling rather than trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Yes, I do. I was wondering if you can come with me to the mall. I need to go prom shopping and I need advice.” I awe in silence thinking she wants me there. But I forgot prom is coming soon. Maybe I should also go shopping for dresses? 

“I would love too let me just check in with my brother to see if I can. I’ll text you. Okay?” I say as I leave my room to find my brother.”

“Yes of course. Just text me.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.” We both sign off and end the call. 

I make my way to the arena where Eric is doing his regular workouts to stay fit. I walk around and avoid any interaction so I don’t ruin someone’s concentration. I see my brother lifting weights in front of a mirror. 

I skip down to his sections and begin to say, “Hello, beautiful brother of mine.” Giving my best smile. I love my brother and he loves me. I know I am my brother’s weakness and it is hard for him to say no to me. It is bad of me to play off of it sometimes.

“What do you want?” As Eric put the weights back in place with Cam’s help. 

“What makes you think I want something? I ask my brother.

He just raises his eyebrow suspiciously. “You never come in open arenas unless you need something.”

“Well, I hate working out and prefer a light jog, unlike some people.” I look around and see all our warriors working out and dying from exhaustion. “Fine.” I give up the act. “I was wondering if I can go to the mall with my friend Sage. Please.” I shyly ask with a soft smile. After I was done I hang my head down low ready to rejection. 

“Sure.” He answers.

My head pops up fast. “Wait really? You are going against father’s wishes for me to stay home?”

“I trust you and trust you enough to go on your own for a couple of hours.”

My eyes widen in shock and slightly confused. “Oh okay. Thank you. I’ll just go then. Bye, love you both. I would hug you but you’re a little sweaty.” 

With my brother’s approval and already texted Sage that I am on my way to pick her up. It will be easier to take one vehicle. Before I could exit out Jesus stops me.

“Where are you going? And who are you meeting?” Jesus does his Mexican interrogation.

“Umm… I asked my brother if I could go to the mall.”

“I know I just got a text from our Alpha saying to come with you,” Jesus says. 

“Oh okay. I didn’t know I had a plus one. Sage and I are going dress shopping for prom.”

“Oh really! Let’s go.” Jesus claps turning his serious expression off and back to his happy self. I smile and follow Jesus who decided to drive. 

We successfully picked up Sage and found a parking spot with shade. Sage is glad Jesus came. They both share an extroverted personality. I’m glad they get along and but both can be stubborn in their ways of living. Like when we pass a pretzel cafe inside the mall. They argue for 10 minutes if a pretzel should be salted or unsalted. We all link arms and skip inside our first stop. It is a bridal shop that holds their seasonal prom dresses collection.

“Alright, bitches here is the game plan. I am looking for a dress that makes me feel sexy, not slutty. A dress with rhinestone but I’m not trying to compete with the disco ball. I don’t care if they are short or long. I want to show everyone that at school I may look like a hot mess. But Just give me 10 minutes and I can be a hot bitch. Yes?” Sage says with her typical power pose.

Jesus and I nod at her demands and starts shopping around. All these dresses are beautiful. I smile and selfish wonder if they would look good on me. I push those thoughts away and remember I am here for Sage. Jesus and I hold open multiple dresses to Sage to see if she seems interested enough to try it on.

In total Sage walks in the dressing room with 10 dresses at a time. 

Jesus sits on a couch in front of the runway. I walk in the dressing room with Sage to help her. We giggle loud enough for the whole shop to hear. I try my best to quiet it down but sometimes Sage just makes me laugh by grunting to get into a dress. 

“I am waiting!” Jesus yells to hurry us up. 

Sage just rolls her eyes and walks out of the runway like a model. She is a feisty 5’5” figure but wants everyone to notice her presence. So she poses, poses and turns around. She did this for each dress she tries on. Jesus openly reacts to each dress. But he also pranks Sage by sneaking in a couple of ugly dresses. My favorite was a terrible big bird dress. I did take a photo of it to always remember this moment. 

After 7 dress Sage like a sparkle golden dress with a deep v neckline and backless. Jesus and I stop what we were doing because Sage looks so beautiful. The long dress flows behind her as she walks.

“Sage you look amazing. Are you going to wear heels?” I ask.

“Yeah, most likely.”

“Sage you need to get this dress. It fits you perfectly. I’m gay and I would fuck you.” Jesus says as he walks around Sage.

“Really? Thank you.” Sage says as we all laugh.

“You know I never been to prom and I have a bow tie that matches that dress.” He winks and hits at Sage.

“Oh really?” Jesus has caught her attention. “I wouldn’t want this dress to go to waste without some arm candy.” She says.

“Plus you wouldn’t have to worry about a date.” I encourage Sage.

“Or the pressure of prom sex.” Jesus smiles.

“You’re right. Do you want to come?” Sage ask.

Jesus kneels down and says, “I would be honored if I can take you to prom. Will you go with me?”

She smiles and says, “Yes, of course.”

“Now it’s Angel’s turn,” Jesus says and I eyes widen of the mention of my name. 

“Oh no. I’m good. I thought we were here for Sage. I’m not sure if I am going to prom.” I stutter and try to decline politely.

“As a power couple, we demand you to go and try on a couple of dresses,” Sage says as she wraps her arm around Jesus. 

“Guys please no,” I beg. “Fine just one then we are leaving.” I give up and let them have their fun. 

“Come with me.” Sage grab my hand drag me into a fitting room. “Stay here we will be back. 

I sit and wait until they pull a dress. I hear outside “Try it on!”

I look at it and my jaw drops down. Are they kidding me? It is a tight red dress. An off the shoulders with a heart neckline. I swallow my pride and just try it. I know it will make them stop pressuring me to go to prom. 

“Guy’s I can’t…” I say.

“Why?”

“It’s too tight. I don’t know.” I don’t feel comfortable in it.

“Just show us. Don’t make me come in there. I will.” Sage yells back at me. I stay quiet then I hear, “I’m going to crawling underneath.” She threatens me.

“Fine. I am coming out.” I am doing this for them rather than me. I unlock the door and walk up to them. I hold myself with my arms wrap around my stomach. I am too self-conscious. I feel like I am about to burst out of this dress like Hulk. I avoid their eye contact.

They weren’t even saying anything which makes this worse. Is it that bad?

“Omg! Angel! Look at you!” Sage run up to me to spin for them.

“What? Is it that bad?” I ask.

“Are you kidding? This is so sexy.” Sage gasp and made me let go of my waist. “You are a sex goddess

“I feel like I have sinned.”

“I feel like your brother is going to kill me,” Jesus says. He knows we must not dress too crazy. As an Alpha member, we must always look presentable and conservative. 

“Who knew you had these curves under all those cardigans,” Sage says. 

I honestly didn’t think my Mexican hips were going to fit in this tight dress and I am scared my boobs are going to pop out of this dress. I’m more of a heavier set of breasts.

“Can I change now?” 

“Wait? What? You have to wear this to Prom.” Sage says. I know she is trying to push me out of my comfort zone. “I can’t wait for Xavier to see you in this. He is going to shit himself.” 

“I don’t think I am going anyways.” I don’t think Xavier would even ask me. I know people want him for prom king. “It is too tight.” I don’t want to wear something I don’t feel confident in. I want to wear something for myself and not for anyone else’s twisted fantasies. 

“It is supposed to be. It is a mermaid cut dress.” Jesus says.

“You should never cut a mermaid,” I mumble.

 In the end, Sage pay for her dress and we make our way back to the car. I feel so much better to be back into my normal clothes. While walking with shopping bags in hand Jesus stops walking and backtracks. His sudden reaction made Sage and I follow his new direction.

“Jesus, where are you going? The car is this way!” I say.

“Isn’t that your brother’s car?” Jesus questions.” 

I look at his direction he was pointing at and I see three men crouching down in shame. They start rolling up the window. I march over to them and knock on the driver side. Through the spotless glass, I see Eric, Cam is on the passenger side, and Xavier sitting in the back. 

With my hand on my hip, I ask, “What is going on here? What are you guys doing here?”

“Oh, we are just shopping.” My brother starts to say.

I calming repeat myself and ask. “Please don’t lie to me.” 

“I’m sorry Angel we were watching you from afar,” Eric says.

“You guys were watching me?” I ask.

“That’s creepy,” Sage says in the background. They all got out of the car and line up in front of me. “Really creepy.”

“Why would you guys do that?” Jesus asks mostly in Cam’s directions. His tone of voice sounds disappointed.

“Well…”

“We...were..”

Both Xavier and Cam stumble with their words do to our disappointed state. 

“We were worried about you,” Xavier says while putting his head down.

“Angel we were worried. This is your first time out since the shooting accident. We didn’t want you to be in trouble or…” Eric trails off as Sage picked the sentence up.

“Or if someone was following us like creepy stalkers,” she completed.

“Do you not trust me?” Jesus asks with watery eyes. I look back and forth between the two lovebirds. I pray for Cam to response the both his mate and his Alpha.

To Cam’s rescue, Eric says. “Considering the recent events, we believe more protection would be helpful. It has nothing to do with your ability to protect her.” 

Jesus stays quiet to please his Alpha. I am still not satisfied with his answer. “Why are you here?” I ask Xavier.

“I went to your house, Eric answered the door and he told me to get into the car. I didn’t realize what we were doing until we saw you shopping.” He answers.

Blood rushes to my cheeks and thinking he saw me in the prom dress. They all saw me in THAT dress. That evil red dress. “So you saw us in the mall and…”

“Yes, we did.” He smiles at his memories which only makes me crumble more of embarrassment. 

“Did you guys have fun?” My brother asks.

“I thought you said you could trust me. I guess I was wrong. I’ll see you at home.” I whimper about my brother’s lie and walk back to the car. 

I hear my brother calling for me but lies are never acceptable. Lies only cause my trust to break and is never put back. 

[divas-k]

Dress to Oppress – Walls and Overalls

Today, we unravel the threads of time and tradition, and weave a new norm.

The dilemma of deciding what to wear is universal. But in an age where gender and sex are spectrums rather than definite lines, we must re-examine the stereotypes (‘tom-boy’, ‘slutty’, ‘sanskari’) we have woven with respect to the clothing choices of those around us. Furthermore, questions like “Who wears the pants in your relationship?” only deepen the scars of prejudice, and misguided notions of masculinity and/or power. Such erroneous judgments continue in assigning gender and/or sex to colours. While in the early 20th century, the trade publication Earnshaw’s Infants’ Department, mentioned that “pink, being a more decided and stronger colour, is more suitable for the boy, while blue, which is more delicate and dainty, is prettier for the girl.”, by the 1940s, the tide had turned altogether. However, regardless of this timeline, an earnest plea to the reader would be to leave the rainbow alone.

Then, there are those who advocate ideals of equality and freedom of choice, and admonish men wearing dresses (read Jaden Smith at prom), all in the same breath. Say, if a woman wore a tuxedo to her wedding, one would witness all dainty facades of acceptance and support flying off the shelves. Admittedly, open-mindedness is easier in theory than in practice, and hypocrisy a smoother path to traverse than honesty. The question is- are you willing to take the road less travelled?

Further, dear reader, recall the stunning, overexposed shots of testosterone-fueled, muscled men, armed with spears and shields, skin slick with sweat, clad in plumed helmets and fustanellas (a traditional Greek skirt) in Zack Snyder’s dramatic fictionalized retelling of the Battle of Thermopylae within the Persian Wars. Fixated as you may be on the seeming juxtaposition in the above description, of brave men wearing skirts, I shall clarify, that I speak of the box office success, ‘300’.

Moreover, consider the Scottish, who, in donning the kilt, were concerned with convenience and comfort for their male warriors and employed several practical uses of the garment- apart from shielding one’s body from nature and clothing one’s frame. The kilt could serve as a camping blanket, and was worn over a full-sleeved garment stopping below the waist (léine); loose-fitting, it enabled the wearer to make distant, long marches with agility and to wade through rivers. The upper half could be worn as a cloak over the shoulder, or brought up over the head for protection against the weather. Now, as queer (in more ways than one) as it may seem for some, to witness warriors donning an article of clothing reserved for the ‘weaker’ sex, when you come to think of it, it may be wiser and more comfortable for males to don skirts and females to wear pants, for obvious anatomical reasons.

Having said that, one should be free to clothe themselves as they see fit, regardless of the anatomy of their body. This free will is embodied in Megan Fox’s parenting style, whereby she abstains from enforcing stereotypical dress-codes for her children; in conversation with Jimmy Kimmel, she mentioned how her son, Noah, likes to wear dresses sometimes. Parents all over the world should take notes from the Transformers star, who said, “…there are no rules- you can be whatever you want to be in my house!” Moreover, skirts have made their way into men’s fashion through celebrities; Jared Leto, David Beckham, David Bowie, Jaden Smith, Kanye West and Vin Diesel have all worn skirts proudly.

Why, though, must we view these developments as achievements to be proud of, rather than commonplace occurrences that are treated with normalcy? I suppose we have, indeed, come full circle- where once, Luisa Capetillo and Katherine Hepburn went against the tide and donned trousers, the garment of revolt (the former went to jail for the supposed ‘crime’, though charges were dropped later), the dawn of the twenty first century brings with it the campaign for men to freely wear ‘feminine’ clothes. This is baffling, juxtaposed with the fact that cultures across the world started out with simple, flowy, dress-like garments meant for both the sexes - from the Roman toga, to the Indian lungi, and the Japanese kimono (to name but a few) - which were differentiated and altered into gender-specific clothes. Having said that, the response to the present hue and cry for gender-neutral clothing has not been met satisfactorily; despite the promise of equality, the unisex garment has essentially been of a ‘masculine’ style. Needless to say, we have miles to go in this area.

But clothes aren’t where it all ends; cosmetics form an integral component of fashion trends and the way one wears them (or doesn’t, depending on one’s preferences) reflects a person’s projection of themselves as much as their clothes do. Men have found their footing in the cosmetics industry, debunking the myth that makeup can’t be ‘macho’. This comes amid a larger investigation into traditional gender boundaries in fashion and beauty, alongside the growth of internet-famous beauty fanatics who have built followings via social media. Take, for instance CoverGirl’s latest face, James Charles, 17, a high school senior from Bethlehem, N.Y., with nearly 650,000 followers on Instagram and over 90,000 subscribers on his YouTube channel. Following suit, Maybelline unveiled their first ever male model, Manny Gutierrez, the 25-year-old “beauty boy”, with a whopping 3 million followers on Instagram and 2.1 million YouTube subscribers.

And then there is the eventful history of high-heels. From Medieval Persia to Carrie Bradshaw, the elevated shoe has come a long way. Initially donned by Persian noblemen as riding shoes, the heel enabled a steadier stance so that the rider could shoot his arrow more effectively while standing up in the stirrups. European royals took notice when Persian monarch, Shah Abbas went to tour European courts around the 1500s. And so the Persian style shoes were adopted by the aristocracy who felt it lent their demeanor a masculine edge, until it was eventually taken over by women.

Cut to the present, where more men are adopting the style originally meant for them, dispelling invisible boundaries and gender norms. In 2014, Yanis Marshall auditioned for the talent show Britain’s Got Talent; the part French, part British dancer combined his passion for dance and his undying love for high heels, and along with his two friends Arnaud and Mehdi, won the hearts of everyone who was watching. Sure-footed (in 6-inch heels, no less) and sassy as can be, the trio stunned the crowd and received nothing but adoration and respect from the judges, with their up-beat and bold moves on numbers by the Spice Girls and Beyoncé, among others. When asked why he dances in high heels, Yanis replied with the same answer he has always uttered, i.e.- “Why not?”

And truly, that is a question we must all ask ourselves. Why can’t men wear high heels? Why must make-up be withheld from the masculine? Why should women worry about being looked down upon for wearing a tuxedo instead of a dress? Can the walls we see around us be crossed and broken? More importantly, who built them to begin with? In part, we all are culprits, and these walls stand testament to our crime. Every naysayer has placed a brick and a dollop of mortar. It seemed a small contribution at the time- but then, no individual water drop holds itself responsible for the flood.

And while, as a general rule, things are easier to break than build- these walls are standing exceptions. We must all resolve to make a small indent, to chisel away yet another bit of prejudice, and to bury away our notions, in order to break the walls that separate us from each other, and ourselves. For, there are those amongst us who do not identify as either male or female- everything is not, after all, simply black or white. But this human tendency, an obsession almost, to put things into neat, tiny little boxes, has imprisoned some of our own; the breaking of these walls may be the first step for some of us to see ourselves in the clear light of day and do justice to who we truly are.

After all, walls are only so good as long as they protect and support us. But when they begin separating us from reality, and each other, it’s time to start considering cutting a few doors into them. And even if we don’t find the courage to cross those doors immediately, at least we’d have let in a bit of light from the other side.

[sabineelectricheart]

Alcohol-Induced Debauchery

Summary: Tonight is Sylvains birthday, but Byleth does not handle booze very well. What will happen with his little present?

Rating: M - Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16 with non-explicit suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, or coarse language.

Words: 1600

Notes: I’m digging this ‘birthday fic’ thing. I ought to do it more often. Anyways, enjoy.

There was something about the Nabateans that did not handle booze well.

Perhaps it is lack of a cultural habit, perhaps it is a philosophy on the preservation of their holy bodies, perhaps it is a determination of the goddess. None of those green-haired sticks-in-the mud ever handled a bender with dignity. Flayn would turn grabby by the third glass, Seteth would cry obnoxiously, and Rhea was completely abstemious, so one would be excused to wonder what kind of shenanigans she would get herself into.

Byleth, though not exactly a child of the goddess, seemed to have inherited that little weakness from her twisted bloodline. In fact, for a mercenary, she had lived quite a sheltered life. While honing her into a maniacal killing machine, Jeralt had forbidden her from indulging in alcohol and sex, whether because of a sincere, even if misplaced, protecting instinct or a damn hypocrisy, no-one knows.

It was no wonder, then, when she could not handle her ale very well. It always is a quite amusing scene for her students, when their guarded and aloof teacher would laugh and cry so openly and so randomly. More recently, she had acquired some mannerisms from her not-quite cousin and became aroused whenever she had even the slightest bit of booze.

The former Blue Lions watch their religious leader with anticipation and apprehension, as it seems they will have another opportunity to indulge in some inebriated comedy. A party is raging in the Gautier townhouse, in Fhirdiad. The bard’s music and magical strobe lights mixed with the alcohol in her system are making it much harder than usual to find her messy-haired fiancé.

So what, the Archbishop reasons, if she is a little tipsy, wanting to be sexy for your fiancé is nothing to be ashamed of, especially if it is his day of birth and she wants to do something different for a change. Underneath her short black skirt and navel-revealing blouse, she has strappy red silk lingerie, and she is feeling hot.

Though being the attention whore he is, the former teacher finds him relatively quickly. He is deep in a conversation about horse jousting, surrounded by a few Gautier Knights, his little fan club of slutty social climbers from all corners of the continent, and his two best friends. As soon as he sees her, though, his eyes lit up and his attention wanders off. 

“Princess!” Sylvain rushes over to his fiancée, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting she into the air.

He spins her giggling figure around, smothering the woman with kisses across her face. Usually, she would have been rather humiliated to be made a ragdoll, that, despite her small size and light weight, she was a famed warrior. Tonight, however, she only feels faint.

“Where have you been? I have been looking for you.” The Margrave inquires as he sets her back down.

“I was dancing with Dorothea and… and Mercedes.” She answers, struggling with the last name.

Byleth peers up at him and plays with his fur-lined overcoat. Pulling on it, she melds her lips with his pillowy ones. His hands find her hips and he pulled her ever closer to him. The kiss deepens as his tongue seeks refuge in her mouth.

The group, who has been waiting for Sylvain so they can resume the conversation, is growing impatient and eventually give up on it, realizing at that moment where his attention is solely focused. They all disperse, as the few single noblewomen who are still crushing on the former skirt-chaser and have the balls to antagonize the Archbishop shoot them angry glances.

After a heated moment in their own private bubble in the middle of the ballroom, she pulls away slightly from the redhead’s soft lips.

“I have something I want to show you.” She murmurs, her vowels slurring slightly, as she rests her forehead on his. “Privately.”

He pecks her lips once again before pulling away completely and takes her hand on his. He leads his fiancée through the party, smiling as she wrap her arms around his so she can be closer to him. The two of them make their way to the Margrave chambers, and after he closes his door and runs the lock, she lets go of his arm. She swiftly takes off her shoes and stockings.

“Sit down.” The green-haired woman smiles shyly, pushing his chest softly.

He does as he is told, as it often is the case when Byleth is involved, though not without pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. “Okay, Princess, what do you have planned?”

Settling into his seat on the edge of the bed, he leans back, using his arms to support his body. He looks at her through the haze of his own alcohol consumption with a crooked smile, causing her cheeks to warm.

Without saying anything else, Byleth brings her hands to the bottom of her blouse and pull it over her head, revealing the breast binder piece of the lingerie set. She tosses the top away from her and giggle at Sylvain, who stares at she with an astonished smile. This encouraged her to unfasten the clasps that held her skirt up and let it pool at her feet.

“Let me see the whole thing, darling.” Sylvain muses from his spot on the bed, causing her to look away from him, shyness taking she over. Still, she steps out of her skirt and do a slow turn in front of the Margrave.

“Wow, Princess. All for me?” He asks. 

She hums in the way of an answer. The nobleman’s gaze is urging her on, he is beyond excited to see her so confident in her body, so decisive and yet so malleable in their chambers. The green hair and eyes, the magical prowess and such would not leave any room for doubts, she is and always will be a goddess, but seeing her wanting to seduce him with the same hare-brained techniques he once used makes him weak. 

Timidly, her unnaturally smooth fingers latch onto the bottom hem of the breast binder and begin to pull it over her head. The silk is sliding off her lascivious breasts when one of the straps gets stuck on her arms, rendering them immobile. The Margrave is entirely caught up in her newly exposed flesh and does not realize her predicament. 

“Sylvain…” She whines.

“Yes, darling?” He asks, still unaware of her current circumstances as he is still making direct eye contact with her breasts.

“I’m stuck…” The Archbishop bemoans.

He finally is broken from his trance and takes her entanglement in. With a little chuckle, he raises from the bed and stands directly in front of her. He has a cocky smirk on his face as he asses the situation and tries to stifle a laugh. 

Sylvain hooks his fingers under the piece of the binder she could not reach to remove the item and slowly drags it up her arms and over her head, throwing it onto the bed. He chuckles a bit looking down at her dishevelled state. Her soft green hair is messy from the entanglement and her mouth is forming a small pout.

“Do not dare laugh at me!” She gripes, pushing his chest, her face warming in embarrassment. 

“Hey! Hey! Baby, I did not mean it!” Sylvain raises his hands in surrender. “You look very sexy, sweetheart.” 

Though Byleth is still pouting, she lets him lead her to the bed and onto his lap. She nervously tucks her hair behind her ears before saying, “I just wanted to be spontaneous and sexy.”

The Margrave places his hand on the back of her head and pulled it towards him so he can press a soft kiss in between her burrowed eyebrows, which relax under his touch.

“Well, for all that matters, I think you are very sexy.” He says. “Though all this spontaneity business might need some practice.” 

The Archbishop gently smacks his chest again.

“Sylvain Gautier, you are mean, did you know that?” The woman says as she tangles her fingers into the hair at the base of his skull.

“I meant no harm by it. I am more than enough spontaneous for all my friends, lovers and acquaintances. Why do you think I get along so well with Ingrid and Felix?” He points out, half-joking, while lazily stroking her bare sides with his large hands.

“Besides, if you would like to let go and descend into debauchery once in a while, I am more than happy to help you. Believe me when I say, you are free to practice with me any time you want.” He whispers, before leaning in and catching her lips in a sweet kiss that silences her giggles at his words. 

“I will keep that in mind.” Byleth states. “It does not change the fact you are the devil.” 

“Me? The devil?” Sylvain acts in a shock that she sees right through with little trouble. “I was not the one getting stuck in lingerie!”

He punctuates this statement by pulling the band of her underwear and letting them snap against her skin.

“Fine! You try it on and see if you do not get stuck, king of brassieres.” She retorts, but before he can respond, she kisses him deeply, wiping the subject entirely from his mind.

While the booze dulls her senses, Byleth concludes that some practice would come in handy. Her own birthday is in around three Moons time, and she has mastered skills in less time. Sylvain is in for a wild ride.

*_*_*_*_*

Fire Emblem Masterlist

Three Houses Masterlist

[evita-shelby]

Prove it

A K'uk'ulkan/namor x mexican!reader who works at the hacienda our dear Kukul buried his mother. Reader is mexican and the dialogue is entirely in spanish to show that the reader doesn't speak neither English nor Maya Yucateco

(Previously in a different blog which i then deleted)

If requested, i can make a version with the dialogue in english. The dialogue refused to come out in english the first time around,sorry)

Gif by @mndvx

You weren’t born yesterday.

There was no possible way for this fucking historical hotel was truly haunted.

There was no cool poltergeist, no ghost ladies giggling in the floral room where the hacienda’s owner’s daughter died suddenly in the eighties, and there was no fucking way there were Mayan Warriors with blue skin led by fucking K’uk’ulkan himself to pay homage to the big rock in the garden.

That had to be some idiota they had hired from town.

You bet your shitty paycheck you knew that pendejo in the slutty green shorts.

“Te dan buena lana para hacer esta pendejada cada Diciembre?” you ask as the man stares at you in horror.

“Que?” the man asks before cursing you in Yucatec Mayan, an older type with like no Spanish in it whatsoever.

But it’s still the same language, so you insult him back, which makes it worse. Especially when you slip back into Spanish and he acts like you just spat in his face.

“Esta es la sagrada tumba de mi madre!” he shouts at you in Spanish, but you don’t buy it. He is too real looking to be a ghost, that vein popping out on his forehead and the way he gets close enough for you to feel the warmth of a human being lecturing you on your rudeness.

“Si, es la tumba de una mujer Maya, lo sé, pero dudo que una mujer del siglo dieciséis tenga un hijo de treinta años en 2020.” You cross your arms and stand your ground.

Would he be offended if you ask him out for drinks at the shitty hotel cantina once you two get over this?

“y si te dijera que tengo más de quinientos años?” he continues with the farce, and you wonder if its worth it to have another wannabe actor fuck buddy here.

“Estas muy conservadito entonces, pero mas creería que te pagan quinientos varos para venir en tan poca ropa cada puto invierno.” You answer with a scoff, five hundred pesos was a shit rate, that was barely fifty dollars. The cute girl from the local University got paid twice that to do her fake shaman tarot reader bullshit every month.

This fucker should ask Rigo the Owner for more.

He laughs, a slightly bitter thing that tells you he is this close to just killing you outright.

He is handsome, you give him that. And well endowed, which is probably why Rigo’s slutty much younger wife chose him.

The feathers and his outfit look legit, too real, especially the fake jade jewelry. You had to hand it to him, the nose plug and the earrings looked pretty fucking good.

“¡Te mataría, pero no mancharía la tumba de mi madre con la sangre de una persona tan estúpida que no puede distinguir entre un hombre humano y el Dios K’uk’ulkan!” he shouts and you think he may be right.

If the Norse had sexy Thor and whatever his goth brother was, if the Americans can defrost Captain America like frozen meat, maybe, just maybe the weirdo standing here was the Serpent God of Mesoamerica.

Could explain why he looked the same in all the photos since cameras were invented.

Could the man you’ve infuriated so much that he stands there breathing hard and clenching his fists to avoid hitting you be the god, K’uk’ulkan?

“Si en realidad dices ser quien eres, pruébamelo.” You say goading him into proving he was fraud. If he is a fraud, he will do anything to make you forget it, like kiss you in anger and get the two of you fired for hate fucking where some of the guests can see you.

You hope he is a fraud; it has been so long since you’ve had a good fuck.

He smiles, one that makes you shake in your metaphorical boots, as he took you by the waist and flew with the weird little wings on his ankles.

“Puta la madre que me pario.” You utter as he flies you to the beach.

[helloiamadrawer]

So I'm gonna make this very clear this does not make me a furry

Dyspo NSFW alphabet

A-Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Dyspo is the mfing king of aftercare, quick to make you a bath or just grab some towels to clean yourselves up, or just simply a nice cuddle session. Mans is all hands on deck when it comes to you.

B-Body parts(their fav body part of theirs and also their partners)

It may sound pretty obvious coming from the supersonic warrior, but it's his legs 100%. On his partner however, it may be their legs as well or either their captivating eyes. Especially your waist, his favorite place to hold you by.

C-Cum(anything that has to do with cum, basically)

His is on the thick but milky side. Being a rabbit with a built in breeding kink he's a messy cummer as well (lol.). Unless you're not into the breeding thing he loves to cummon your stomach or if you're giving him oral definitely your face, it's just so hot to him. As for the taste, it depends on his diet. He could taste sweet one day and then a little bitter the next.

D-Dirty Secret (a dirty secret of theirs ;) )

To make love/have sex in every single one of his comrades' rooms (EXCEPT JIREN'S). Not because he has a grudge for them but because he's adventurous like that sometimes (and horny). Let's say everyone is gone one day except for Dyspo (cause hey, someone has to protect the base) first thing he'll do is call you up and ask you if you want to hang out cause he's "bored" and next thing you know, y'all are heading to whoevers room doing the deed but you two make sure to put some towels and essentials.

E-Experience(are they experienced and do they know what they're doing?)

I think that Dyspo did have a couple one night stands in his past, so I would say he's mildly experienced and is confident in what he does when you need it.

F-Favorite position

His definite fav is probably the Face-Off, gives you both the passionate but searing eye contact while thrusting up into you, watching your face contort in mixes of pain and pleasure. That or a whole ass mating press if he's really feeling feral but is willing to experiment with others as well.

G-Goofy(are they more serious in the moment or are they humorous?,etc.)

When he's his usual chill self he would crack a joke or two if you did something silly or if he did but after that it's serious from there. Now, if he comes back from let's say...a very adrenaline coursing fight, yeah, no jokes, bed. Now.

H-Hair(how groomed are they and does the carpet match the drapes?)

Okay I may be wrong, but it would be at least a little tuft of black down there. He tries to keep it tamed but his job as a Pride Trooper gets in the way of it sometimes.

I-Intimacy(how are they in the moment? Romantic aspect)

He can be romantic don't get me wrong but he likes the playful aspect of it like physical touch and play fighting which leads to tender or rough sex. Best believe he can be passionate for you as well, making it last almost all night.

J-Jack off (do they masturbate? headcanon)

UM OF COURSE THIS MAN MASTURBATES

You're talking about a rabbit who has a moderately high libido, plus it's a stress reliever as well. Also if you have the same level of libido as him that turns on his mutual masturbation kink into overdrive.

K-Kinks

Dyspo's kinks are

Breeding-where do I start with this? He's mostly a soft dom when making love to you, but when pounding you full of his seed, no regrets he's going hard dom on you, rearranging your guts and make your slutty hole only fit for his cock and you probably won't be able to walk the next day. Cherishes the idea of you carrying his child/children.

Mutual Masturbation-so if you're not into the breeding thing. This is one of his alternative kinks. God the image of you using a wand against your clit and shuddering to the image of him running his leaking, aching cock for you is such a turn on its not even funny he'll probably cum so quick over that.

Marking-slight kink bit he loves to mark your thighs mostly or neck, heck he loves all of you so one may be on your ass one day lmao

L-Location

Not anywhere in public but the base when no one's there or his bedroom.

M-Motivation(what gets them going or turns them on)

Headcanon: wear stockings or some pretty thigh highs and he will pounce on you or drag you to the bedroom instantly. What can I say? He's a leg kind of man. Sexting is another one, picture it, you're in your bedroom at your house and you decide to risk it today and send Dyspo a picture of you on your knees in your sports bra and panties and to top it off, your fav stockings he likes and when he gets the pic, best believe he's gonna (be hard, duh) and reply with something like "u tryna get yourself pounded to the mattress today ain't ya baby? Keep going like that and see what happens when I come over there >:)"

Or simply just dirty talk. If you're shy, then be prepared cause Dyspo is the definition of dirty talk when outside of his hero work.

N-No

Being a hero to the public means no sex anywhere except the bedroom and his or your place.

O-Oral(are they good at receiving or giving?)

HE'S 👏 GOOD 👏 AT 👏 BOTH

When it comes to giving it only took him a good minute before he learns to master ravaging your cunt with his tongue. And don't get me started with the eye contact during it he loves the image of you squirming under him with those orbs of vision full of submission and lust. But that's only part of the fun, he will tease you alot which is a good chunk of that dominant side of him as well. He would slowly dragging his tongue against your sensitive nub and then growl, "mine" which sends vibrations through your slit, all in all makes him feral.

Receiving is sort of the same, his pelvis easing his cock into your mouth to shut you up while he does some computer work while he's in his office, hoping no one comes in cause of the marvelous head you're giving him. Gagging on his length, your ears are on high alert for footsteps but when your boyfriend of a rabbit starts whimpering they're focused on him nowand lord he sounds fucking hot when he's under your control and it only gets worse (or better for you), he starts moaning when he comes so you can decide to swallow it or let him cum on your face. Whatever option is the best for him if it's alright with you. Although he feels kind of ashamed that he made a messy on you.

P-Pace(are they fast and rough or slow and sensual?

It would depend on the mood he's in. If you tell him you're straight up horny...get ready, he's already ran to your room or about to put your legs around his broad if you're near him. He's more of a fan for sensual and slow sex cause he likes more of the build up and the especially the result after.

HOWEVER, after a fight with a challenging villain, he'll rip your clothes off as fast as you can say his name and as fast as you'll be praising it when he's slamming his dick in your gummy walls. Best believe the feral mood intensifies, growling curses and snarling praises all over the place until you both reach your highs.

Q-Quickies(their opinion on quickies?)

Quickies and Dyspo are a good match he doesn't mind knocking one out before he has to go to work.But he can't compare it to love making though.

R-Risk

Noted in the 'No' section.

S-Stamina(how many rounds can they go for?)

The Fastest in the Multiverse can go as many rounds as you like. Usually 3-4 rounds.

T-Toys(do they own toys? Do they use them? On themselves or their partner?)

Dyspo doesn't really have any toys...

But does like using yours on you ;) a dildo that's his right length and girth, pumping it in and out of your needy hole. Vibrators? God yes. You know there are actual rabbit vibrators, right? He's definitely buying you one for your birthday or an anniversary present just for the PUN of it but the fun too *wink wink*

U-Unfair(how much they like to tease)

He can be the most sweetest bunny boy alive...but sometimes he wants to be the most evil as well in bed. He will know when you're close to your end and slowly pulling back when going down on you with a cocky smirk on his face. Will have you sinking down on his cock to chase his own release, even though you came multiple times. But it's 50/50 on that...well unless you ask 😏

V-Volume(how loud are they? What sounds do they make?,etc.)

Dyspo is quiet at the start, breathing maybe some shuddering from you already turning him on so much. From there it'll escalate into dirty praises and moans and sometimes growling when he's close. Not actually loud that the neighbors can hear lol.

W-Wild Card (random headcanon fornth character)

His long ears are sensitive to touch. So if you like blow or better yet massage the back of them, you'll get quite a reaction from him a shiver/moan or a pleased mewl. Pulling them is a turn off. It's cute and hot at the same time.

X-Xray(let's see what's going on under those clothes..)

This purple rabbit is quite impressive physique-wise. His cock is about 6 1/2 inches long with a prominent vein on the left as it usually hangs slightly to the right. Medium girth but never fails to make your walls flutter with ecstasy.

Y-Yearning(how high is their sex drive)

As stated in the 'J' section his drive is moderately high but it doesn't get him in the way of being a universal hero and training but he loves to come back and having the high strung energy of a rabbit he likes to hop to it (okay I'll stop with the jokes) and just strip off his clothes and make love to you every day if he wanted. (With breaks to eat and stuff ofc.)

Z-zzzzz...(how quickly they sleep afterwards)

It's either

He's out like a light, cuddling with you big spoon is his domain in the cuddling department heehee. Or be the aftercare king and run you a nice, warm bath while he chills on the bed, ears alert if you need anything else from him (maybe another round after ;) )