#are supposed to blend and overlap

[bluuscreen]

laios touden the monster man that you are…

original panel btw

[moe-broey]

Quick and rough Plumeria redesign, mostly just cause...... I gotta do what comes naturally to me, man. Give me some Shapes. Simplify that design or so help me.

I don't have a lot of complex thoughts about it, actually! Just the idea of having a "sexy" outfit that draws the eyes to certain parts of the body -- while simultaneously being modest and Sharp. Having an edge to it. Also!!!! The luna moth inspired wings!!! I wanted to stay within her og color palette, but I've also always thought luna moth wings would suit her... the top wing is vaguely heart shaped, too!

[xerotiny99]

The Lewd Rituals of a Typical Day // Our Precious #6

The Lewd Rituals of a Typical Day. (Our precious #6)

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Pairing: main - Park Seonghwa x Reader. Side - Reader x Jeong Yunho, Reader x Kang Yeosang

Warning (for all parts): smut, hardcore smut, soft dom!seonghwa, dom!yunho, dom master!yeosang, sub!reader/slave!reader, breast stimulation, teasing, biting and marking, DD/LG, seonghwa has a feeding kink (does not overlap with fat fetish), praise kink, food play, unprotected sex, fingering, cock warming, thigh riding, nipple play, bits of master-slave dynamic, rough sex, manhandling, cum play/cum shot, dirty talk/degradation (just know yunho has a filthy mouth), size training (vaginal), etc.

Note: do not proceed if you're uncomfortable or triggered by any aforementioned tags. Not proofread.

Gist: it's the weekend and you finally get the time to spend it with your so called "boyfriends".

Total Word Count: n/a

Taglist: @t3kandson @therealcuppicake @sebastianswhore13 @solisyeah

[a/n:] thank you so much for 190+ followers. really appreciate it.

Part Two [6.2]: Down on My Knees - Kang Yeosang x Reader

Warning: master/slave dynamic, slave!reader, master!yeosang, wax play, use of Ben wa balls/kegel balls, use of ropes, rope bondage (hojojutsu tie), deep-throat/throat fucking/blowjob, cunnilingus, etc.

Song rec: Drip by Black Atlass

Gist: Yeosang gives you a glimpse of his eccentric kink. Let’s say, he’s one intimidating man behind all the innocent facade he puts on.

Word Count: 11,122

           How did you end up in this position? Kneeling in front of him, arms bound with a thick rope and held behind your back, and the seemingly innocent ruse he paints on; in his make-believe world, you're supposed to be looked down upon, and he's supposed to have the higher ground to assert his dominance. He wasn't fooling anyone with his charming demeanor, and you indeed hadn't been fooled by his undisturbed personification. Who knew, Yeosang would be one of the wild ones, the kind who are quiet and gentle, who speak less and listen to others talk, the ones who make their opponent believe they know everything about them when in reality they know nothing about them.

The two of you were trapped in a trance of silence, both taking up the empty space adjacent to the bed. A little further into his room, you and Yeosang were both busy with your own things; he eyed you like a predator would eye his prey, and somehow, it seemed to arouse your worst tendencies. A strain in your forearm aches against your posture, making you curl your back into your stomach, and the hemp rope bites into your skin, creating irritated scratches; Yeosang's tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth the moment he hears you whimper. You hold onto a breath of yours, until it's forcing its way out to blend in with the dense air of this room. The dread follows you, lurking in your mind; you could sketch out a rough outline of Yeosang's mind, of his needs. He needs control. He likes it a little too much. Which would explain why you were kneeling in front of him, with your arms shackled in some rope to restrict any movement of your body.

"Did I tell you to stop?" he growls, sighing a minute later, "from the top, again."

You groan, voicing your frustration, "I promise, I'll be good next time. Just let me continue. We've been over this for the longest time, I'm tired."

"Rules are rules, kitten." He rasps, lowering his voice down a baritone, "now, from the start. As I said before."

Exasperated, you straighten up and stare up at him. There he sat on a metal chair, hungry eyes trained on every movement of your body. He sits poised and stoic, putting most of his weight to the side as his elbow which rests on knee. His legs are crossed over one another, and he subtly keeps brushing his fingers under his chin as if he were to be in some deep ponder about life. For a man to be this ethereal, was a crime. And you wouldn't base your judgment on the fact that he was a man, but rather on how meagre his efforts were to delineate his grace. How can a man wearing a simple tank top and jogger shorts, appear this elegant?

Yeosang's lips curve into a silken smirk, almost like a trace of smugness caressing his face before stranding his mien with an unbearable hint of thirst. His soft brown eyes yearn for a taste, for a quick nibble of your bare chest which was on a hankering display. When his silence murmurs louder in your ear, you take a deep breath and scatter your attention across the floor; there laid sheets of black print, words etched in a continuum. Back to the first page, to the very beginning. You had read through the first page ten minutes before. There goes your ten minutes of hard work and patience.

This was a tortuous nightmare which seems to be never ending, a situation having you kept astray in a void of fear and anticipation, tickling every being of your flesh and bones. It doesn't matter how dedicated you are to him, he will find a way for you to lose, for you to give in to your ailing state of mind. So far, he had succeeded in making you feel small, belittled your presence.

Time stands still in this room; all air is knocked from your lungs when proceed to enunciate the first few words on the first page.

"We the undersigned parties, recognise and accept the submission of Moon Angel, hereafter called the 'slave' to Kang Yeosang, hereafter referred to as the 'Master', in a relationship of," you trail away, almost losing your voice, "relationship of voluntary servitude hereafter called 'slavery'."

In this blighted state of affairs, you're in a constant dilemma, whether you should've read and signed the contract beforehand, or not. To your better understanding, it would have been hundred times better if you had just taken out the time to read and sign the contract before. All this humiliation would've been avoided.

"Go on," Yeosang nudges you with a husky undertone laced to his words, "we've got a lot to deal with here, kitten."

Shaking your head, you swallow thickly to wet your sore throat before continuing, "by this instrument, Master agrees to direct, train and dominate, the Slave for Master's pleasure and benefit." 

Why were you aroused by this? You'd hate to admit it, but you were soaking wet from reading this so-called contract, by picturing the words jumble up on a pretty risqué imagery in your mind. In an attempt to alleviate the strain in between your thighs, you squeeze them, quite tightly for your cunt to rub against your flesh. Yeosang doesn't let your venture go unnoticed by him; rather, his lips lilt into a haughty smirk, playing the descant game of tease in his head.

Regardless, you press your lips together and mumble, "the slave's tenure will begin on the day of signing this agreement and end on the last day of the twelfth month after the day of signing. A review will take place every three months."

"Do you have any doubts till now? Perhaps, some questions which have been troubling your mind?" he asks, relaxing back into the chair and spreading his legs wide.

"Not really." You respond; however you couldn't resist peeking at his cock when he spread out his legs like that.

You catch the glimpse of his erection protruding through the flimsy material of his shorts; gauging by the outline, you could tell he had an impressive size.  Which doesn't really seem to be one of your biggest concerns at the moment. You should be instead, worried about what the future holds for you. It was easy to shrug off every possible leeriness you faced, up until he had asked you to fetch the contract from your room and meet him in his own.

Things went south. Quite quickly. Everything was a blur of moment, seconds dragging to something lesser than them, seizing to nothingness as time paralleled to nix. You entered his room, the dimly lit abyss of ambiguity and confusion; a queen-sized bed in the centre, draped in red silk sheets, and the curtains to the window stayed drawn together to filter out any natural light seeping in. His room was dark, and devoid of any unnecessary things. Even more peculiar, his room did not allow any sounds from the outside to saunter in and vice versa.

The entire aesthetic of his room was an enigma, an elaborate conundrum which would put anyone in a bewildering position. A desk remained shrouded in the dark by a corner, and two separate closets were bound to a side of the wall; one of them was locked with a silver padlock, and it also harboured quite a few intricate pieces of cravings in the wood. The other closet was basic, laminated with a much basic plywood. There was a door situated to the left side of the bed, presumably the bathroom, and to the right of the bed, was where the closets, and desk were located.

After spending the first few hours of the morning with Seonghwa, you were dragged by Yeosang to his room; on the way to his room, by the stairs, you came across Wooyoung who had then groggily greeted you before turning a side eye toward Yeosang. That, somehow, itched Yeosang in a wrong way and awoken something feral in him. He wrapped his hand around your waist and pulled you with him, not caring if you fumbled in your steps or were even capable of keeping up with his pace. First, he pushed you in your room, asked you (in a growl) to get the contract he had given to you and then he dragged you into his room. When the locks behind you clicked, your heart dropped to your gut.

Yeosang's sheer strength was enough to turn you on, enough for your cunt to start dripping at the thought of the other things he was capable of doing to you. He could easily manhandle you, throw you around like a puppet and bend you to his words. Inspecting your body then, he walked around you in circles, until he got too riled up to contain himself. He had ripped your shirt off your body, technically speaking, Jongho's shirt, and now it laid strewn on the floor in tattered pieces.

Many more things unfolded after that, he asked you sink down on your knees, he got himself a red-coloured hemp rope to tie your arms behind your back, and then he dragged a spare chair over in front of you and slid himself onto it. He sprawled the contract papers on the floor, for you to read through them, loud and clear.

And so here you are. In a probable dehumanising position.

"Your restraints aren't too tight, are they?"

"No..." your lips quiver, arms struggling in the hold.

They weren't tight or as uncomfortable as you thought they'd be; though, the rope was biting into your skin and chafing it every time you moved only as to little. You were quite astounded by Yeosang's preferences, and how he dabbled in the art of Japanese bondage called shibari. There's something about him you couldn't place your finger on yet. Regardless, the moment he started looping the rope around your arms and your back, you were crumpled down to pieces.

To Yeosang's eyes, you were a treat. He pities you for not being able to see how luscious you looked with the red ties scattered on your back, and around your chest; the rope did in fact loop around your forearms and crossed at the back, it formed an intricate pattern of a star with how it was tied. And in the front, it ran parallel to your chest, the rope running under and over your tits. Nothing could've stopped him from drooling at the sight of you; you on your knees, half naked and body shuddering ever so lightly every time he glared at you.

"The slave must reveal all appropriate thoughts, feelings and desires relating to servitude without hesitation or embarrassment," he states, clear and firm, "I'm going to ask you again. Are your restraints uncomfortable?"

"No," you reply, confidently.

"As a slave, what must you refer to me as?" he poses another question, still sounding resolute somehow.

"Master."

"That's my girl," he praises you, a smile breaking out on his face before he leans over to whisper, "I did not tell you to stop reading. Please, carry on. My patience is running out."

You take a breath of relief, knowing he hadn't tormented half of your being by forcing you to read everything from the start. But you were also transfixed by his words, by his presence. Gulping down the lump in your throat, you clear your head and proceed to read further on.

"This voluntary servitude may be renewed at the Master's discretion with the slave's consent." you take another breath in, and continue, "It is agreed that this period of slavery will be under the Master's direction and control and will be subject to the following conditions."

Yeosang hums along with you, "let us keep those conditions to ourselves. Why don't you read them in your mind and let me know if you have any concerns regarding them."

You take his suggestion well, spanning your eyes across the printed letters and comprehending them in your mind. As the time passes, the restraints start tugging you down; it was overbearing to hold the straight posture for all this time. Your arms had started to ache as well, going sore from having no freedom to move them around. However, you still held it in, held on the very little of your patience and dedication to get through this.

Reading the conditions, you could tell he curated his preferences perfectly on the paper. The conditions stated were beneficial to both parties; most importantly, they took the slave's gratification into consideration.

"Is everything understood so far?" he murmurs, peeking at you.

You raise your head and nod, "yeah. I think I got the gist of it."

Yeosang hums again, but his jaw clenches slightly and your gut knots itself, "I meant, yes master."

He smirks, "good. You're getting the hang of it." Tracing his thumb under his lower lip, he pulls himself off the chair and takes a few steps closer to you. He crouches down, his aura buzzing around with a certain heaviness, "I want to punish you for not obeying me. I had asked you way well in advance to read through this contract, hadn't I?"

"I'm—I'm sorry, I know should've done it—"

"—don't waste your energy on apologies, kitten. The time's gone."

His fingers pinch your chin and tilt your head further up, forcing you to meet his eyes; the dark, sullen, dour eyes of his show no emotions, not until a spark of lust and carnality breaks out. You gulp, audibly, squirming your thighs together to ease the tension between them. Beyond hope, you knew you had soaked through your shorts, you were sure Seonghwa's cum had slicked out all the way through along with your own arousal.

Dense air in the room leaves you to suffocate on your spit, while his lips caress the tip of your nose and drag along your cupid's bow. He presses a soft kiss against your lips, mumbling them in a haze of sheer want and need. When he pulls back, he adorns a scornful smile on his face, tugging his cheeks softly into his eyes.

"Get on your feet for me." He drags his words to a whisper, "now."

The authoritative tone flips a switch in you, turning your rationality off and switching on your submissive mind. He straightens up and takes a step back, watching your helpless-self struggle to get on your feet. You stumble while trying to bring yourself up from your knees, and the way your arms were shackled behind you, it seemed almost impossible.

Yeosang extended no hand for help, he quite enjoyed the show you had put on for him; a belittling chuckle is trapped in his chest, while his arms are folded over. He waits a beat, for a second to cross the threshold of your clumsiness before he leaps in and helps you up; there it was, his warm hands bracing against your waist, pulling you up on your feet and stabling your wobbly stature.

"Come here," he holds one of your arms and guides you to the chair; the contract sheets lay untouched on the floor, starting to flutter to the winds brought in by the ceiling fan. "Stay still, hmm?" he murmurs from behind you, his warmth painting an untamed desire on your back.

You nod, whispering, "okay."

Before you could voice your other concerns, his presence dithers away. Listening to some shuffles around in the room, you turn your head to find him unlocking the closet which had intrigued you before, the same closet with a silver padlock and intricate carvings on its wooden panels. The doors creak softly at the hinges when he opens them. Amid the pointless dark and silence, you observe him, noticing a soft glint of something metallic in his hands. You were unaware of what he had retrieved from the closet; bewildered, you continue to stare at him as he grabs a couple more pieces from the closet. Stricken by a haze of wonder and despair, you whimper under your breath. Tremors brush your skin, trickling your flesh with an ecstatic desire.

You press your lips together, preventing your needy groans from slipping past your lips; his footsteps ascend to you, while an object rattling in his hand. He stands in front of you now, fixing himself behind the chair to dump the things he was holding in his hands. As he is steadying himself back, you catch a glimpse of his smirk fleeting on his plump lips. When he straightens himself, you notice the objects spread on the chair.

A candle. A pair of what seems like, silver balls, alongside a small capsule-shaped button or something. And a silver plated lighter having a butterfly engraved on it.

A quick flick of lighter turns the flame on, he proceeds to light the candle; the wick burns with vigour, providing to the subtle morning light which had already begun to fade in from the window regardless of the curtains being drawn together. He sets the lit candle on the small desk, located next to his bed, right behind him. You must've failed to notice this one before, not that it matters now because you're too fixated on him, on his actions and what he tends to do with you.

"Ever seen this?" he muses, picking up the silver balls in his fingers.

Letting them dangle from his forefinger, he shows it off to you. It was your first time coming across them. The two marble sized balls were a half an inch apart from each other connected with a fine chain link; they appeared small and delicate.

"No," you mumble, "what are those?"

"Rin-no-tama," he pronounces it in a perfect harmony, and shrugs, staring down at the shimmering spheres hanging from his finger, "or orgasm balls." His eyes meet yours, "don't worry, they only create subtle stimulation. It's more of a teasing device than anything intense."

He strings out his words so casually, lips quivering with a vague smile. Taking a long stride around the chair, he comes to stand behind you; the balls clatter gently against his hand when he holds them by the long tail of chain adhered to the one of them. Your mind is a complete mush at this point, overridden with enthusiasm and anticipation. One of Yeosang's arms comes to tangle around your waist, while the other sneaks up your back and comes into your view. Right in front of your face, he holds the two orbs, their chrome shade alluring and intriguing.

"Open up," he whispers, nudging the balls closer to your lips, and pushing them till you're willingly opening your mouth. "Good kitten."

You moan at the praise; however, it's muffled by the tiny little spheres in your mouth; he continues to push them, trying to settle them deeper, and as he does, the tip of his fingers too sink in your hot and wet mouth.

"Cover them up nice and warm," he suggests, "they'll be going inside you."

Another desperate groan tempts to slip past your lips, but you bite down on it and continue to suck on the balls in your mouth. Yeosang's fingers plunged a little deeper than before, forcing the orbs further down your throat; he hums in satisfaction once he thinks it's enough. Offering a subtle tug on the chain he held onto, he pulls the orbs out and lets them dangle in front of you. They're slick with your spit; a thin layer coats their surface and translucent saliva strings adhere to them in a perfect curve. You squeeze your thighs together, melting at the thought of him stuffing those balls inside you.

"You get really eager, don't you?" Yeosang teases, slipping his hand from your waist to in between your legs; he slaps your thighs apart, and then proceeds to tug on your shorts. "Since it's our first time, I will keep it...easy for you."

As the last bits of his words dither in your mind, you had failed to notice how in one swift motion he had torn your shorts off of your waist. First the shirt, and now your shorts. Both laid littered in pieces on the floor.

"What do you mean—nghhhh!" your voice clamours to a moan, a sudden gelid sensation urging you to close your eyes and revel in it.

"Oh, you know," Yeosang grins, "take things slow with you." He bites down on his lower lip, addressing to you in a mumble, "relax for me, will you. Deep breaths."

Listening to him, you take a deep breath in, your anticipation pulsating past its limit. A second ticks, and he nudges one of the spheres against your folds, eventually dragging them along your slit to slip it in your cum-filled hole; the first orb stretches only so much, burning the pit of your stomach in a momentary heat. He tugs further on the dainty chain holding both of the spheres to have them fit snug in you. The warmth of his fingertips disrupts the peace in your heart; nifty tremors spread across your spine when he pushes two of his fingers in, delving them deep and gently pressing the balls further inside. If you could be honest, the cold sensation of the balls and the drifting warmth of his finger was wrecking your mind, giving you the sensory stimulus you needed so bad.

"Fuck—it's cold," you moan, rolling your hips down on his hand to let his fingers plunge further.

He clicks his tongue, immediately pulling his fingers out and offering one of your asscheeks a light squeeze.  "You're not supposed to enjoy your punishment, kitten."

"I'm—I'm not," you stutter, knowing well you were lying to him.

"Really?" he emphasises, groping both of your asscheeks and spreading them apart, "the way you were grinding down on my fingers, it said otherwise."

"I just—I need something more to—need something more to feel..." you trail off, going speechless for the moment when the heaviness of the balls settles in your cunt.

"No, kitten," he slurs, "you don't need anything more."

Yeosang glances at his fingers, coated with your juices and Seonghwa's cum from before; he honestly has no problem with it, and speaking in all fairness, he's used to this kind of plight. Watching the translucent fluid coat his fingers, he lets his lips curve to a conceited smile before bringing his hand in front of your face. His other hand stays tangled with your waist.

He clicks his tongue and prompts you, "lick these off. It's yours and Seonghwa's...afters."

Eager, you open your mouth and let him stick his fingers in; a familiar salty and bitter taste coats your tongue, with tender underlying tones of sweet. Enjoying the warmth and the sloppy confines of your mouth, he thrusts his fingers in till he's knuckles deep. You lap your tongue along his fingers, nonetheless, sucking them clean. Offering a few kitten licks to you his rough fingers, you muffle a whine when he pulls them out with a vile 'pop' sound reverberating around you two.

"Such a good kitten," he muses, "cleaned my fingers with her tongue. She deserves a treat, she really does."

His absence leaves your back, which alerts you and prompts you to straighten up slightly. And with that subtle movement of your waist and your back, your walls to clench around the metal orbs. A curt whiplash of arousal crawls up your spine, making you hiss at the furor which spreads across your body, rather quite instantly. Yeosang's face comes into your view; a face worth admiring, a face you could never get tired off. His eyes nurture a sense of slumber, and his plump lips are seemingly too kissable to deny the urge. The gorgeous man in front of you, standing right behind the chair, which was stuck between you two, had dubious intentions inscribed in the brown specks of his eyes.

Leaning in close to you, he cups your face with both his hands and nudges the tip of his nose along yours; he traces it down to your lips, only for a hot second before ghosting his own on yours. In the next minute, his tongue darts out and swipes under your lower lip. A smile fleets on his face, his eyes glimmering with an untamed desire. The grasp of his hands surrounding your face tightens, holding your face in one place as he abates the distance between your lips. A brush. A delicate brush of his lips wanes you to a complete silence, and it soon blooms in your chest, slipping out of in you in the form on a whimper. Yeosang's lips start lapping up with yours, dwelling into a heated kiss which starts mellowing out every sane thought in your mind.

For the time being, struck with his lips and his hands, you forgot your hands were tied behind your back, you forgot about the rope nicking your skin and leaving red marks behind; you were immersed in the way his lips moved with yours, how he softly grumbled when you tilted your head and deepened the kiss. Breathless, you kept it going, you kept your lips on his while his tongue prodded past them. Yeosang pushes his thumb pads into your cheeks, forcing you to heave a gasp and allowing him to push his tongue in. The slickness of his tongue wraps around yours, tackling it in the further warmth of your mouth.

He moans, sounding it from his chest when you start sucking on his tongue. You push his sloppy muscle out of the way and shove yours down his throat. In the despair of your body, you're slithering beyond to caress the tip of your tongue against his uvula. When his gag reflex kicks in, he groans and pulls your face away from his.

Out of breath and panting softly, he smirks, "my kitten is so desperate." He pushes himself back, continuing in a mere whisper, "come on, we've still got five pages to read over."

Tugging you to the place where you were kneeling before, he forces you to get down; without much hesitation, you oblige to his demand and sink on your knees, the stray sheets of paper kissing your bare skin. The metallic spheres which were sheathed deep in your cunt, fidget with your walls and stroke your arousal. You gasp when the balls plunge in the steepest part, only for the time you were adjusting yourself on your knees.

Yeosang grins to himself, watching you squirm and struggle to keep your spine upright. Hunching over, you fail to notice him extending his hand to wind it around your throat; with a simple and steady jerk, he forces you to meet his eye, his lips encasing one of the most impish smirks ever. His fingers dig deep into your skin, denting it with his mere strength and painting it with little crescents of his nails. The more you stare at him, the tighter his grip becomes around your throat. You choke on your spit, mouth falling agape to the torrid desire of breathing. In all seriousness, his fingers and thumb were pressing against the right places on your throat.

"Eyes on me," he growls, "when you're with me, I want your eyes on me. At all times. Exceptions would be—" he trails off, "—when you're blindfolded, or in any position which makes it uncomfortable for you to look at me." Letting silence speak louder, he bites his lower lip and waits for you to answer. And upon getting none, he snickers, "what do we say, kitten?"

You couldn't really get your words out, not when his hand continued to clasp around your throat, tightening every second and causing your walls to convulse into each other. The worst part, however, was when you writhed to the enthusiasm of getting choked; every time your body shuddered against the floor, the balls inside you built your arousal to its brim.

Regardless of your throat turning dry, you croak, "yes master."

"That's what I like to hear," a smirk splays on his lips, while he loosens his grip on your throat. A sudden wave of concern washes over his tone, "you should let me know if I'm crossing any limits, Angel."

You shake your head, coughing, "it's—I'm fine—I'm fine, really."

"Are you sure?" he asks, a smile wavering on his face before it is replaced with a straight line, "next time we meet, we'll be setting our boundaries. You need to tell me what you're uncomfortable with and what you're okay with. Got it?"

Nodding your head, you weakly string out, "yes, master."

Yeosang seems satisfied with your answer and pulls himself back on his feet, letting go of your throat; he towers over your slouched shoulders, arms folded over his chest as he coaxes you with an encouraging jab of his head.

"Continue. From where we left off."

His footsteps descend down the meagre dark beside his bed; he grabs the candle from the desk adjoining it and carries himself back to you. For a minute, in your state of bemusement, you gawk at his veiny hand which wraps so delicately around the candle. And later when the minute of confusion passes you like a dream, you come to terms with what he has planned for you. Yeosang's lips curve slightly with every step he takes toward you, his eyes glinting with mischief and lust.

"I can't hear you, kitten." He teases, "I'm assuming you've had hefty breakfast in the morning. Gonna need you speak a little louder, kitten."

You shift on your legs, sitting with a comfortable posture, distributing your weight equally on your calves before his words lash on you and make you squirm, causing the balls to twist and turn around in your cunt. The budding tension in the pit of your stomach is too much to contain; if only there was something more to unravel you. Biting on a moan, you nod your head vigorously and swallow some of your spit down to wet your dry throat.

"The slave hands her," you read the next page in line, eyes tearing up gradually from the pleasurable ache pounding at the walls of your cunt, "the slave hands her training over to her Master."

"Hmm," Yeosang hums and displaces himself behind you, "go on."

You're too focused on the reading to notice anything out of order. "The Master may give his slave 'free periods', be it in the Master's presence, where the slave—the slave may express herself openly and freely."

"That's right," he hums, his presence warming up to your back when he leans over slightly, "hmm, carry on."

Heaving in a deep breath, till it convulses your lungs into each other, you proceed, "there will be no punishments applied during these free periods. However, it is understood that the slave will continue to address her master with respect—ah fuck you."

A hot sizzle crawls down your back, trickling further and farther on your skin; the hot sensation traces a mere inch, and it dissipates to a steady streak of coldness. Muffling a whimper, you give yourself a little time to comprehend what had happened.

Candle. Wax. Hot wax. Hot wax on your skin.

You draw your shoulders in, and then roll them out, focusing on reading. As if you could really concentrate on the task at hand, when he is fixated on pouring the melted wax on your flesh. The burn of the candle grows intense on the crook of your neck, while his other hand lingers up and down your spine, dipping down the curve and then pulling back up.

Yeosang clicks his tongue, "you know the rules, kitten. From the top. Again."

You despised hearing those words, those exact words which caused you so much torment and frustration; if you could, you would pick yourself up the floor and leave, but sadly the contract states the otherwise. The contract states a lot of things, all of the phrases are now ingrained in your brain. Of course they would be, you've read them countless times. Even so, with all that you've read and spent your time reading, you hadn't gotten to the end of it yet.

"Please," you whine, "you caught me off guard." Squirming on your feet, your knees itch with an urge to unfold yourself from your position. Though even when the thought of you doing that crosses your mind, the balls in your cunt move, and wreck your body with the soaring pleasure. "Let me read, let me continue. I can't go back and read it all over again. I'm tired."

Yeosang sucks on his teeth, "fine. Let's put a stop to this. Don't worry about the reading for now, just relax yourself and take deep breaths whenever I tell you to."

From the back, he pushes the contract papers aside and they scatter further away on the floor. You're steep in anticipation, partaking in the little games he was playing with you. And to your surprise, he loops one of his arms around your waist and pushes his chest into your back. His other hand, holding onto the candle, comes in your view for a meagre second before it drifts down your chest. Peeking over your shoulder, he directs the candle towards your collarbones, right by the centre. As the wax on it melts, a few drops trickle and trail between your tits; you hiss at the burn, throwing your head back onto his shoulder and closing your eyes shut.

"Does it hurt that bad?" he chuckles, "you're such a pathetic liar, kitten. I know my way around this, the wax isn't even that hot, is it...?"

You press your lips together and nod, whimpering, "but it—but it scares me to not know where and when you'd..."

As you trail off, he chimes in, "when I would drip hot wax onto your skin, hmm?" he stifles another chortle and presses his lips against the crook of your neck, "well kitten, that's the whole point of it, isn't it? You anticipate, live in the thrill—doesn't that get you all hot and bothered?"

His hand which had been around your waist, slides down your lower abdomen and belly to trace circles on your mound; you bite back another whimper because his cold fingertips urged to graze further down to rub your clit. Pressing in circles, his middle finger dips along your slit, the sensation making you mewl. When he presses a little harder, the walls of your cunt tighten around the ovoid device fit snug in the deepest part of you. Yeosang groans the moment he feels your juices and Seonghwa's cum coat his sleek- long finger. He rests his forehead against your shoulder, containing his very urge to shove two fingers into your puffy cunt and saw you out as you deserved to be.

"Yes—yes, it does." You squeak, catching up on your slipping tongue and the hitching breath.

Speaking of truth, you were certainly beyond bothered. This session was dragging on in a painfully slow pace, and you wondered if this is how it's going to be with him at all times. Though, you couldn't completely deny that you were enjoying yourself, just as much as he was by toying with you. Yeosang doesn't utter another word and his warmth strays off your back; the intensity of the candle grows stronger on one of your tits, and before you could react to it in anyway, a good and hot wad of wax trickles down your fleshy tit and taut nipple. Pressing your lips together, you prevent yourself from whimpering to the searing heat, but it soon cools off and hardens around your skin, moulding perfectly. 

"Yeo—" at the verge of spilling his name out, you catch your tongue but it's too late, the sweltering wax is already leaking down on your chest.

"I do not recall giving you the audacity to call me by my name." His chuckle is long lost in your ear, "you need to learn, kitten, that, bound in these four walls, I'm your master. Do you understand that, or I do need to fuck it in your brain?"

You swallow the prickly lumps forming in your throat, and nod with an eager look, "yeah, yeah—I understand, master."

"Such a good kitty, she deserves to be treated, doesn't she?"

The nods of your head grew softer but still remained eager; as your foreboding anticipation would crash over you, Yeosang trawls the candle across your chest and continues to do so until he's painted perfect rivulets of crimson wax on your skin. Alluring shade, intricate patterns branching outward on your skin, it was a piece of art how the melted wax framed your chest. You tilt your head to catch a glimpse of the red streaks, captivated by his work. Yeosang grumbles a string of incoherent words, sounding a little off in his satisfaction; you keep yourself from whimpering his name, and shift about on your folded legs. There it was a blinding spark of tightness roiling in the pit of your stomach.

"Please, please, please..." you chanted in your haze of desperation, wanting to be relieved of your misery.

The man leaning against your back, clicks his tongue; his presence starts to dither, the warmth cascading down to a cold breeze of nothingness. He's off and up, the candle disappears from your line of sight, and it fills up with tears. You may not like to admit it, but you were really close to letting go of all the tension in the pit of your stomach. A simple nudge would be enough for you to come undone. Though, in the darker side of your mind, you couldn't foretell any of Yeosang's further moves. Sullen in the state of stillness, you take a deep breath and let the nifty moments roll out. And to your surprise, you find Yeosang placing the candle back to its rightful place; he turns on his heels, the meagre light illuminating a haughty curve of his lips.

"If my memory serves me right," he drags his words into a whisper, "I remember Seonghwa boasting about the head you gave him."

"Is it true, Angel?" your brows scrunch together in bemusement. "I would need to know it for myself, how well your mouth takes me in."

You gulp. Audibly enough for his smirk to lilt on his lips, stretching into his cheeks. "Say ah, kitten."

He prompts you with a mocking tone, having stood in front of you now. You tilt your head up, raising it high to meet his ambiguous eyes, drifting further apart into the dark intentions of his words. Without hesitation, you slack your jaw and open your mouth; all sounds are stuffed back into your throat when two of his fingers push inside your mouth. Pressing the pads of his fingers against your tongue, he pushes them further into your throat. The calloused yet soft skin of his fingers leaves an eerie sensation on your tongue, but you gulp it down and begin sucking on them.

"So warm and soft. Can't wait to have this mouth around my cock," he grumbles, throwing his head back slightly, "you know what, kitten? Why don't you show me what you can do with your mouth. Fuck my fingers first and then I'll decide whether this mouth deserves to have my cock in it or not."

A part of you was extremely pushed into this corner of desires and arousals; it wasn't just a dream for you, and even if it was, you were living it. Did it happen every day that you'd stumble upon an innocent man, seemingly unbothered and unfazed by mere interactions around him, only to find out he's much filthy in his mind than he shows himself to be? No.

Yeosang's way of teasing and slurring his words was turning you on more than you had ever expected. You squeeze your thighs tightly for your cunt to detangle the tension it was sparked with it. Though, it only made matters much worse because your feeble actions had made the balls inside you to create tremors in the pit of your stomach. Contemplating his words, you start sucking harder on his fingers and hollow your cheeks to constrain them in your warmth.

"Fuck," yeosang grunts, peeking at you through his half-lidded eyes, "wonder why I made you—fuck, kitty—" you lap up your tongue around both his fingers, pushing the tip over and under, "—should've ruined this mouth instead of making you read a pathetic little contract."

You hum in response, the gentle vibrations stifling around his fingers. Noticing, he coos, "aww, you agree too, kitten?" his lips curl, menacing a thrill in your stomach, "hmm, I need to know if you deserve my cock, or not."

Taking that as a challenge, you become determined and suckle his fingers deep in your throat; he doesn't resist and pushes into you. There's spit leaking out of your mouth, trickling down your lips and staining your chins with perfect opulent rivulets. He's caught admiring how you had started to choke on his fingers, screwing your eyes shut to help you alleviate the discomfort. You weren't exactly put in a state of unease, but you knew you'd take some time to get used to it. Yeosang's fingers weren't as sleek or long as Yunho's. They were rather girthy and veiny, taking up the entirety of your wet mouth. He keeps scuffing them on your tongue, fingernails digging in your fleshy muscle as he drags his fingers out of your mouth. The moment he's gotten them out, you cough, urging it all from your lungs before lurching forward.

"I'm convinced," he states, licking the fingers which were just shoving down your throat a second ago, "your mouth was made to please a cock."

As the wispy tones of his words dissipate in the air, you hear the soft scuffling of his shorts being pulled down; you peek back up, ravenous gaze creeping up his feet, thighs and then to his exposed pelvis. His shorts and briefs pool around his ankles, and he takes only a meagre second to step out of them. The next thing you know, his silly little tank top is discarded next to the pile of his bottom wear. Honestly, you wondered why he even wore that nifty tank top when it covered almost nothing of his chest.

"Master..." you spluttered through your chest, scoffing up the bits of spit and drool strings coating your chin and lips. "...be a good kitten—suck you off."

At this point, your brain was a mush. A complete mess of carnality, oozing past every limit. You felt lightheaded, and it wasn't because you had been staring, or slobbering at the sight of his cock resting against his lower belly, but because of the two very prominent and pronounced balls moving on about in your cunt. Realisation hits you harder than you thought it would; the balls kept rolling and screwing you over inside, painfully edging you to your orgasm. But they never pushed you to the very end of it.

"Yes, kitty. Patience," Yeosang lulls his words, "I'm just as eager as you to ruin this pretty little thing."

You watch him, helplessly, as he uses one of his hands to wrap it around the base of his cock. He gives it a few pumps, dragging his palm along the shaft to the reddened tip. While his other hand eases up to cup your jaw and his thumb hooks into your lower lip. His fingers rest under your chin, and his thumb prods at your lower jaw; you willingly let your mouth widen.

"Be a good kitty, hmm?"

You nod, shifting yourself on your knees to crawl closer to him. The stinging ache of your bounded arms was starting to turn forgettable. It was all too sudden, easy even, to forget about the pain when you were focused on something else. Here, getting your throat wrecked by him and his cock. Yeosang's size was impressive, really impressive; you don't find any joy in comparing lengths, but he'd easily be two inches above average.

"And I heard from Jongho that you..." he trails off, tugging up at your jaw to force your eyes on him instead of his cock. "...you like staring at—is that true?"

You want to shake your head and deny his petty allegations, but his thumb hooked in your mouth keeps you from moving even an inch. He pumps his cock a few more times before aligning the tip against your mouth. Having propped it opened with his thumb, Yeosang slips into your sloppy warmth without any effort, sinking down on his hips and pulling his hand away from your mouth. You feel the stretch on your lips, not much, but it's still there to remind you how well he had stretched your mouth open with his cock.

A lowly growl peeps from his chest, and he bottoms out in your mouth; soaked in your wet and warm spit, he closes his eyes shut and bites down on his lower lip. "Let me—fuck, so—kitten's mouth is so fucking warm—fuck, kitten, let me know if I can move or not."

You don't really have any mode to indicate him you were ready; so, you push your tongue to the top of your mouth and lick up a stripe under his shaft.

"That's a good kitten," Yeosang smirks, tangling the fingers of his both hands into your hair and pulls you away. "Gonna take my cock deep in her throat, isn't she...?"

With only his tip in your mouth, you rub your tongue around it and he growls which rings out to a chuckle, "fucking hell. Seonghwa was right, this tight little thing can really take a cock in."

He starts pushing on his hips, and you willingly swallow his cock. Reaching deep enough, the tip of his cock brushes over the roof of your throat, triggering your reflex gag in an instant. You choke on your spit but continue to slug his cock further down in your throat. A moan strangles itself in his chest, his mind going numb to the tightness and the warmth of your throat. Yeosang hurls his head further back, his neck arching to a perfect curve while his eyes stay shut tight; you peek up at him, your own gaze shining with tears and innocence. A tiny fracture in time coaxes him to compose and turn his attention on you. You're stalked by his predator-like eyes, every movement, every blink of your eyes, every breath you hitched out of your nose; at a point, you were starting to suffocate on his cock.

"Good kitty," he praises, his voice startling you a bit as it turns softer and melodious. "Sucking my cock so well."

He lets his cock stay buried in your throat for a minute more before pulling back, not completely out, however. You moan in response and flatten your tongue under his shaft, keeping it unmoving for a while. Yeosang fists his hands in your hair, guiding your head down on his cock to let it plunge deep again. The pace of him toying with your head is, steady and slow, easing out every time you gagged or choked on his cock the moment it reached your throat. One of his hands disentangles from your hair and traces around your throat; his thumb pushes right under your jaw, feeling a faint bump of his cock through your skin.

"Can you feel it, kitten..." he growls under his breath, "can you feel my cock—ah fuck—can you feel my cock bulging around your tight little throat?"

You groan, hollowing your cheeks and sucking him in deeper. He gets the answer he was hoping to get; his other hand still twined in your hair, lowers your head on his cock till your nose is scrunched up against his pubic bone, his soft and tender skin tickling your lips and nose. He was well groomed.

"That's more like it," he whimpers, tightening his grip around your throat to exert an additional pressure; it constrained the walls of your throat around his cock, tensing up your muscles. "A pretty mouth for my use."

You really wished you could voice out your pleasure as well. Though, that becomes a lost possibility when he starts thrusting himself back and forth in your mouth. You keep your cheeks squeezed around his cock as the pace of his thrusts picks up. Yeosang's lips part when a hoarse moan slips past them and his eyes screw shut at the feeling. One of his thrusts falls out of rhythm and he slips out of your mouth; glancing down at you, he clicks his tongue, and you eagerly wrap your lips around the tip of his cock. You lower yourself, without needing to be pushed by him. Struck with passion, he rolls his hips into your face and his cock is back in your throat, snug and warm.

When the tip of his cock brushes on your tongue, you taste a slight hint of bitterness from his precum and swallow it down. Spit dribbles out of your lips when he pulls his cock back, slithering onto your chin and further below; he clenches his jaw, the pace of his thrusts surging and continuing to be more spontaneous. He kept plunging his cock deep into your throat, kept your head steady by intertwining both of his hands in your hair. Tears well up in the corner of your eyes; his ruthlessness and roughness were too much for you to handle. You push your conscience through it, squirming in your place when you are struck by the heaviness in your cunt; the balls, they shuffled along your puffy cunt and teased a knot in your gut. Yeosang's hips rattle against your face, every time he pushed you down, your nose would get rumpled by his pubic bone and that would leave you no chance to breathe. Your lungs burned with the need in your chest, your body slowly starting to convulse to his animalistic lechery. With his every thrust, your chest would heft out, and the puddling streaks of wax would fall off your skin and onto the floor. He would go harder, he can, and he was about to; you knew it well, tears stain your cheeks and drool drips down your chin, drop by drop, eventually falling onto the floor. Clinging onto the last breath you scoured to take, you shift on your knees and the orbs fitted snug in your cunt, give your gut a little nudge to make you cum.

You were close. So damn close. It was starting to turn into a painful endeavour than pleasurable; you were gagging on his cock, strangled by his relentless and aggressive thrusts, and forced to choke on your spit because he won't pull out. Your mouth was a paradise for him, the tightness, the warmth, the way your tongue slopped under and over his shaft, it was all driving him wild. Amid his thrusts, you feel his cock twitch, indicating you he was close to his edge too.

Puffing out a guttural moan, Yeosang heaves a sigh and pulls himself out of your mouth. Sweat covers his body in a thin coat, glimmering against his skin; his hair sticks to his forehead and face, cupping around his cheeks as he pants and becomes too breathless to form words. Aching suffocation makes you cough out the spit which had been trapped at the back of your throat; your body wants to collapse; you want to lay down on the floor and roll into a ball to compose yourself. Regardless of the lethargy and stinging strain on your lungs, you look at him with teary doe eyes, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out for him.

"Such a dirty little kitty, wants to make me cum, does she?" he mumbles, a smug smile curving his lips and his hands slipping off from your hair. "Then she better fucking swallow what I give her." A mild throb nicks at your neck from being angled in an uncomfortable position, though you could care less about it; slotting yourself in the similar position as before, you shudder when he rubs the tip of his cock along your lips, and cheeks. You were lost in the ecstasy of your lewd mind, your arousal only minutes away from coming undone; the connection between your rationality and tongue had been severed, you knew you were about to spew nonsense for him.

"Want to make my master cum—make him feel good," you voicelessly utter, your breath fanning over his cock, "kitty will...kitty will swallow what her master gives her." 

"Hmm, that's a good kitty," he grunts, nudging his thumb on your chin, "open wide now, kitten."

You do as he says, loosening your jaw and opening your mouth wide for his cock to slip right in. This time, he wastes no time in plunging his cock directly in your throat; his thrusts pick up the instant you start gagging on his cock, the tip submerging deep in your warmth. With his concise and sharp thrusts, your body rattles to his force and the rope shackled around your arms bites down into your skin. One of Yeosang's hands is back into your hair, though this time he collects every strand in a makeshift ponytail and guides your head on his cock by holding onto it. His other hand grabs your jaw, his fingers slamming tight across your cheeks; he presses them hard, compressing the space in your mouth to his cock.

"Ah, yes—fuck, kitten—a really good—ah, fuck, such a good fucking pocket pussy for my cock."

A few more rough and aggressive thrusts send you into a sensory overdrive, a nightmare breaking past the bounds of your mind and coming alive; you were aching with an intense urge to let go of the knot tautening in your stomach. You were on the verge of breaking down into tears and sobbing—hell, you had already started crying. Hot tears exude from your eyes, trailing perfectly down your cheeks and ending up on his fingers; your cheeks were still squished by the way. Yeosang was using your mouth quite adeptly, rutting his hips like an animal and pushing your head against his pelvis. You were so done, so tormented by the spheres clinking around in your tight cunt that you couldn't contain it anymore. You're the first one to fall apart, your body trembling to shambles and your mind fogging up with the aftermath. Your juices pool down on the floor, creating a splash with its sound resonating in the room filled with Yeosang's grunts and moans. Panting to the terrible weakness taking over you, your chest heaves up and down, erratically, your lungs screaming in need for air.

"My kitten made a mess on the floor," he grumbles, peering at the floor where your arousal, mixed in with Seonghwa's cum pooled, "such a bad kitty—fuck, such a bad kitty to relieve herself on the floor." biting back on his moans, he shudders as he continues in his raspy tone, "but my kitty did so good—pleased her master—fuck, so good—pleased her master so fucking well. She–she fucking deserves a treat."

Yeosang's cock twitches in your mouth; his eye had been fixed on your body all this while, learning every detail and habit about it. He admired your ability to gag on his cock, he liked the way your body convulsed in itself when you came, and he loves the fucked up look on your face. Sweat, tears, spit, covering every inch bit of your skin and giving it a shine; besides, your eyes, shrouded by darkness, a tinge of lust which shows how drunk you are on his cock.

"This face—ah, this fucking gorgeous face—next time, I'm taking a picture—fucking keeping it to myself to jerk off to." he's so breathless as he blabbers out.

That was the breaking point for him, your face, the stretch of your lips around his cock as he plunged in and out, and the eerie pleading in your eyes. As a sadist, he doesn't need anything else to feel him lose himself; he just needs your tears, your vulnerable moans and your tormented eyes. One more time his cock twitches in the deepest part of your throat, and suddenly warmth starts trickling down; his load floods your mouth in waves, spurting and gushing all over in your mouth.

He lets go of your cheeks and pinches your nose instead; his other hand still held you back in a ponytail, slowly and gently tugging on it to push you away so he can slip out from your mouth. When he pulls out, a few strings of spit and cum stay linked with your lips and the tip of his cock.

"Swallow." he sternly utters.

The clasp of his forefinger and thumb on your nose tightens, leaving you no choice but to breathe in through your mouth; eventually, you swallow down the entirety of his load. Bitterness of his cum makes you gag, but you still push through and once done, open your mouth wide to show him you had guzzled every last drop of him.

"Such a good little kitty," he whispers and let's go off your nose; he takes a step back and watches your body lurch into itself. You tired, catching up on every lost breath and it amused him how helpless you seemed, coughing, panting, face covered in bits of his cum and spit.

"This isn't over yet, kitten. Get on your feet." He commands in a stern voice, shaking up your body and getting you on your feet. "Sit here."

You find him standing behind the chair, his lips slightly curved. Finding his intense eyes swelter on yours, you somehow manage to stand on your wobbly legs and stumble to the chair. Instead of sitting like a normal person, your knees give in and slump down on the chair, earning an amused yet belittling chuckle from Yeosang.

"Seems like my kitty is tired." he muses with a pout on his lips, stepping around to kneel in front of you. "Don't worry, I'll take care of her."

Muttering almost incoherently, he lets a smile hook onto his face, his cheek fluffing up slightly at one side. Yeosang's eyes hold yours, keeping you arrested in the motion while you try to sit properly on the chair; the light caresses of his fingertips follow up your knees and eventually graze past your inner thighs. He spreads your legs apart, humming in satisfaction at the sight in front of him. You bloomed like a flower, your folds wet and slick; remnants of Seonghwa's cum still showed slight traces around your mound and slit. Yeosang drools, a wad of spit rolling out the corner of his lips.

"Such a pretty little cunt," he rasps, pushing himself closer to you, "a pretty pussy to devour."

The sheer waves of his warm breath ebb over your mound, shuddering your body and making you lose your mind. You throw your head back, arching your neck and lurching behind into the support of the chair. Yeosang whistles lowly, palming his hands further up your thighs and letting them rest too close to your cunt. He uses his thumbs to spread your folds apart, admiring the pretty pink flesh obscured by the limpid texture of Seonghwa's cum. Without any warning, Yeosang dips his head down, fluttering kisses on your abdomen and going lower to your belly. His lips graze your mound, and his tongue slides out, the tip pushing along your slit.

"Fuck—master, please—ah, Yeosang, feels good," you let his name slip past your lips, mentally cursing yourself at the fuck up.

Yeosang acknowledges your little mistake, by nibbling down on your clit with his teeth; it's a gentle nibble, but his teeth sink quite nicely to give you a whiplash. "Strike one, kitty."

"M'sorry," you mumble your head and close your eyes shut, focusing on the way your body had started melting under his breath and tongue.

Flattening his tongue, he laps up your slit and folds, his thumbs stretching you out and propping you open; he gives you soft licks, lapping up Seonghwa's cum. He swallows it down, whatever that he could scour from your pussy. And in a sudden rush, his tongue slithers to your hole, prodding and pushing inside. You tried to hold onto your own hands, your nails digging into the flesh of your forearms; the rope was nowhere near loosening, and that was awful already — but the urge to just tangle your hands in his hair and push his head down, was almost getting the worst of you.

"You'll have to get used to it, kitten," Yeosang huffs out, pulling away slightly only to bury his face back into your cunt; his tongue continues with the abuse, protruding into your hole and lapping up on your walls.

"I know," you breathe out, drawling on your spit and peeling your eyes open to peep down at him. "Oh, fuck," keeping your words to yourself, you stare at the man, absolutely turned on.

His head was between your thighs, his fingers pushing and stretching you out, while he devoured you like you were his last meal. You really did wish to push his head down against your cunt, help him reach to the deeper depths of your warmth. Yeosang's tongue thrusts in and out, toying with the metallic chain of the orbs which were fit inside you. The latter half of the chain dangled out; one of his hands disappears from your inner thigh and holds onto the little dangling chain, while his other hand rakes to your cunt. Giving you no time to comprehend, he slips two of his fingers inside, pushing and curling them to his pleasure and unravelling you.

The placid yet unruly thrusts of his tongue nudged the balls every time, and his fingers did too. You were already lightheaded from your prior release, but as he continued to plunge and shove, the tension for second release started building up in the pit of your stomach. To add to your arousal, Yeosang pokes the tip of his nose along your slit, pressing hard.

"Feels so good, Yeo—master," you quickly correct yourself, a heavy moan gliding across your tongue and making you bite down on your lips. "Hmmm—so fucking good." Your words are left to muffle by your clasped lips.

Yeosang takes it as a nod at encouragement and picks up the pace of his fingers, shoving them in deep and pulling them out painfully slow. His tongue curls inwards, pulsating against your g-spot.

You mewl, "yeah, fuck—right there."

Mumbling against your skin, Yeosang doesn't spare you any mercy. Finding a rhythm, he sticks to it, ruthlessly sawing his fingers through your cunt and his tongue surging deep to tighten the knot in your gut. Only a minute passes, and you clench around him; the metallic balls in you stimulate your release, alongside his fingers and tongue. This was too much, too much to bear; your body spasms one more time before relaxing and untying the knot. Easing out on the tension, your second release floods over you and forces a loud moan from you. All air is knocked out of your chest, sending pleasurable tremors down your spine and readying you for the aftermath.

You peek at Yeosang, who continued to lick and nibble on your cunt before pushing himself back; his skin shines under the limited light of the room, his nose, lips and chin are coated with a thin sheet of your juices.

"You taste phenomenal, kitten." He says, gathering himself together and composing himself on his feet. "Although next time, I'll be wrecking this sweet cunt with my cock."

Shuffling around, he drapes his tank top over his chest and pulls his briefs up; he looks around and clicks his tongue. "Ah, the part I despise the most. Cleaning."

"I don't think I'm in any shape to help you."

"Don't worry, I'll do it later. Let's get you a warm soak first."

"Seems bout right."

You're too fucked out of your mind to comprehend his words, but regardless, you heave a chuckle and close your eyes to let the silence and darkness flow through your mind. As time passes, Yeosang helps you with the aftercare; he prepares you a tub of warm water and pulls you in with him. Your back rests against his chest, while he rubs soothing circles on your thighs, lower belly and arms. Towards the end of the soak, he suggests brewing you a cup of hot tea, to relieve the soreness of your throat.

Once you were out of the tub, he pulls one of his sweatshirts over your head and offers to cuddle you. So, you spend most of your morning in the bed with him, his warm embrace sticking to you like a comforting blanket, while the two of you talk about useless things.

"So..." you trail off.

"So?" he squeaks, confused.

"Doesn't a master need to exaggerate his ownership over his slave?" you ask, biting your lip as you rest your head on his chest.

He snickers, his arms tightening around you and pulling you close, "he does. But what are you insinuating?"

"I've read it in books before, you know. How—how a master—"

"Do you mean collars and all that bullshit?" he instigates, gazing down at you. "Angel, I am not fond of the idea of showing off my possession over you. Besides, all of us here are sharing you with each other. I've always thought of it as unnecessary."

"Oh," you drawl on a breath, "I understand. It makes sense."

Reading the sulky pout on your face, Yeosang chuckles and shakes his head, "but if you want to wear my mark on your body, perhaps exhibit yourself as my slave with pride, then I can get you something."

"Really?" you peer at him, your eyes sparkling at the suggestion.

"Why not?" he muses.

"What are your thoughts on piercings?"

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[cyphyree]

Adolescence of Utena -- Architecture x Character Designs

Dunno if I read it from somewhere, but I realized that Utena's new uniform is styled somewhat like the architecture of Adolescence Ohtori, namely how her clothes are black and white (later with red accents) . Whereas Utena stands out in the world of RGU, she blends right into Adolescence Ohtori, almost as if she is a part of the architecture and vice versa.

The movie is also called The *Adolescence* of Utena (or Girl's Revolution Utena: Adolescence Apocalypse), and in the show, we see adolescent Utena wear black and white at the funeral. I think that her wearing this scheme again in the movie is a sort of return to her adolescence. Not to say that she regressed back into the child she was before the show, but more so to represent the child that Utena still is even after maturing. An adolescent is defined as someone roughly between 10-19; Utena is still a teen who's growing in this age range.

That said, Adolescence Ohtori seems to be an architectural representation of Utena's inner child/self. Like a mindscape of sorts. At the end of the movie, both she and Anthy would leave the mindscape of their adolescence and enter into the unknown "outside world" of adulthood.

Red is associated with the Rose Bride, ie Anthy. Before meeting Anthy for the first time in the show, Utena's clothing was absent of red (her child funeral dress); however Utena's RGU uniform afterwards would have red accents.

Similarly, Utena's Adolescence "boy" clothing doesn't have red, but her "prince garb" after meeting Anthy does.

Speaking of, if we continue seeing Ohtori as Utena's mindscape, the deep red of the Adolescence rose garden is like the part of Utena's mind that Anthy occupies. The tower where the girls draw is also Anthy's domain, as it's draped in red.

Even other black-white architecture of Ohtori is accented with red--Anthy has always been present in Utena's thoughts, even if subconsciously.

Alternatively, red in Ohtori could represent Anthy's mindscape "overlapping" with Utena's. Anthy is still wrestling with leaving Akio after all, and after the events of RGU, it would make sense that she and Utena share "spaces"/experiences/solidarity.

Anthy's Rose Bride dress also more closely resembles Utena/Ohtori's aesthetic (white, red with black accents), and we only see her transform into that when she is with Utena. It seems to signify that Anthy has become more familiar/recognizable to Utena, as her Rose Bride dress visually brings her closer to Utena, more so than her generic mint-green uniform.

When Utena first meets Anthy in Adolescence, a light flurry of rose petals fall from the garden above, crossing from Anthy's domain into Utena's-- they are beginning to cross each other's paths again. During the dance in the garden, a much heavier shower of roses blanket the school architecture below, as if Utena and Anthy's connection has now become much stronger. From then on, Utena would try to create a genuine bond with Anthy (as we see during the drawing session)

Alternatively, it could also signify a progression towards Anthy taking the spotlight when she and Utena decide to leave the school for good:

Near the end of Adolescence, we are back in Anthy's rose garden, we see the chairman's tower (associated with Anthy and Akio), and everything is washed in purples and reds-- Anthy's colors. Utena's black/white structures are now absent. From here on out, Anthy is going to drive (heh) the story forward.

I wanna talk about the architectural styles of Ohtori, but that'll be its own post once I do a bit more research. I wanna expand on some differences such as:

Adolescence- constructivist, Russian Revolution, industrial, "masculine"

Show- neoclassical/rococo? French Revolution, floral/decorative, "feminine" -- perhaps Anthy's mindscape in a way.

Anyway this was supposed to be a bullet point list of miscellaneous stray thoughts, but I guess that's impossible, so I'll just eventually write more individual utena thoughts posts lol

Please feel free to tell me what you think btw!

There's also another post by @nothing-suspicious-in-there about Utena's uniform that's a completely different take, please check it out!

[thinking1bee]

You Haven't Failed Part 14

Requested by Anonymous

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Tags: Spidey!Reader, Venom!Reader, So Much Angst, Fluff, Established Relationship, Graphic Depictions of Injuries, Blood, Violence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut

Everything Taglist: @ara-a-bird, @alexawynters

“Baby, it wasn’t your fault.”

You were already shaking your head and looking away from her before Wanda could finish the words. The memories fizzled from view and in its place was the vibrant green of her eyes. No. It was your fault. Everything that happened then and everything happening now was all your fault. While you didn’t speak, Wanda could see in your dimming eyes that you didn’t believe her. She cupped your cheeks and gently maneuvered your face so that her eyes could meet yours.

“Y/n, you haven’t failed me. You haven’t failed anyone,” she said with such conviction that you couldn’t help the whimper that left your lips.

“Wands,” you began, your voice breaking as you shivered. “I was supposed to protect you. You were supposed to be okay. Instead, you were gone for five years.” The tears flowed faster as you peered deep into softened emerald. “You died. I did fail.”

The tremors in your body were getting stronger and Wanda watched as blood began to drip from your nose. It was now or never. You were out of time.

“Y/n, please, baby, please listen to me,” she begged. “I need you to take off the suit. I can’t lose you. Okay? I just got you back and I don’t want to lose you. Don’t force me to live without you.”

Hearing her plead for you to stay alive disturbed you, and that was because she shouldn’t be in a position where she has to beg you for anything. You wanted to make Wanda happy. She was your happily ever after, and just as you couldn’t live without her, she couldn’t live without you. You didn’t even try to live without Wanda, and she saw so herself. The moment she was gone, you fell apart. You remembered the pain that you were in, the way it felt like glass filled your lungs every time you breathed and how it felt like acid filled your chest where your heart should have been. You weren’t going to put her in the same position. She’d already lost so much. Her parents. Her brother. Her best friend. She couldn’t lose you too. The moment you realized that, you looked into Wanda’s eyes and nodded, your hands, though still covered in Venom, overlapped her hands that still cupped your cheeks.

“Okay,” you whispered resolutely as you nodded.

“Okay,” Wanda repeated, a slight smile overtaking her lips.

She took a step back as you grabbed at the unraveled tendrils. You wrapped them around your hands to ensure you had a good grip, to ensure Venom couldn’t try to escape you. Then, you met Wanda’s eyes. She could see just how weakened you were by this. She could see it in your eye. It was duller, the color almost muted to a black. No matter what happened, she was going to help you. You knew that this was going to hurt so much, and as you took several deep breaths, Wanda nodded to you in encouragement.

“I’m right here, baby.”

Yes. She was right here. Wanda was with you. She was fighting for you, and you were going to fight for her in return. You inhaled one more time before you started to pull with all your dwindling strength. The moment you did, the world around you pulsed violently, and darkness flooded your vision. A high-pitched ringing noise filled your ears, and as you slowly came to, the world now way too bright, you cried out. It was like jagged glass slicing through your skin. It was like needles through your veins. The agony was more intense than you ever could have imagined. Everything burned. Everything stung, and your cries turned into screams as you fought to tear Venom off you. Wanda wrapped her magic around the pieces that were snapping off of you, because that’s what was happening. Venom was clinging on to you desperately, its screeches blending with your screams of agony. Little by little, you peeled the symbiote off you, the alien clutching on to you so fiercely that you were literally snapping thin strings of its flesh from your body. When your face and the tops of your shoulders were bare, you swayed, a whimper leaving you as you buckled. Wanda tried to catch you, but Venom was quick. It tried to wrap itself around you again to take you back over. Wanda stopped it with a small barrier around your exposed body. It beat against her magic, but Venom was growing weaker the more you removed it from your body. You would have face planted onto the street if it wasn’t for Thor. He was in front of you so suddenly, his eyes so blue that it was dazzling to you in your current state. His hands held your shoulders before his searing hot hand cupped your cheek.

“Keep going Y/n! Keep going!”

You nodded as gasping breaths left you, but you took hold of the symbiote and pulled again. Black flesh tore down the middle, and it exposed your naked chest underneath. Wanda wasn’t even going to begin to wonder about your missing clothes. You screamed and screamed, your throat raw as sobs began to mix in with your cries. Thor assisted Wanda, and with his Stormbreaker, began to strike Venom with lightning. From behind, Tony pulled more flesh off your back, and Bruce ensured that Venom wouldn’t get away if it tried to make a run for it. For Wanda, it was torture watching as your cries turned hysterical. Your muscles strained beneath your skin, your entire body taut with strength and pain. Venom was screeching and squealing, its tendrils and sheets of torn flesh writhing hellishly as Wanda, Tony, and Bruce fought to get it off you. With a sickeningly graphic tearing noise, one that made Wanda lurch, Venom was torn away from you. It tried to wrap itself around Tony, but he closed his helmet and began to shoot at it with his repulsors. When it failed, it tried to wrap around Bruce, but Wanda was faster. With a snap of her arms, she encased the alien in an impenetrable barrier of red magic, and watched as it screamed and scratched at the sides. She didn’t spare it a second glance. Her eyes glowed even brighter, her power increasing tenfold as she shot the full force of her magic, her chaos magic, into the alien. It screeched and writhed until it died. Everyone watched as it disintegrated, and when Wanda released the barrier, ash floated away like it was dust in the wind. What was left of Venom disappeared into the night.

Soft, choking gasps grabbed everyone’s attention, and Wanda looked down to see you on your back. Your skin was so pale and beneath it, she could see the full network of black veins. They were like dark, ominous spider webs that covered every inch of you, like dark cracks in your skin. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your breaths wheezy and pained as more blood trickled from your nose. Wanda was on her knees beside you in an instant, and upon closer look, she could see your tears streaming down the sides of your face.

“Y/n? Hey, Y/n. I’m here. It’s okay,” Wanda murmured in a soothing voice.

She tucked her red hair behind her ears as she leaned over you, and her hand took yours. She laced her fingers through yours and kissed the back of your hand fiercely. You were shaking. Hard. You could hear her, but you couldn’t feel her. You couldn’t feel her warmth, or the fan of her breath against your cheeks. Wanda’s hand cupped your cheek but to you, all you felt was pressure against your body.

“детка? Can you open your eyes?”

It took so much energy, and even with you trying your best, all you could do was crack them open. Despite the pain that wracked through your body, you gave her a crooked smile.

“God, your accent is so fucking hot,” you whispered, and Wanda laughed as her tears spilled over and dripped onto your body.

“You did it,” she said to you, her fingers resting against the side of your neck. “You won.”

A single breath of air was all you could manage for a laugh. You may have done it, but you didn’t win.

“You have to get up. We have to get you to the compound.”

You looked into her eyes and your vision blurred with fresh tears. Wanda held you close to her, her body shaking with adrenaline and fear. She rested your body on her lap and wiped your tears when they fell faster. You had to choke out your next words.

“I can’t.”

You couldn’t feel your body. You couldn’t even feel the pain anymore. Everything felt so heavy, and you tried to fight against the urge to close your eyes, but you were losing. 

“Don’t say that, Y/n. Please don’t say that.”

Her voice was breaking, and you could tell that she was trying to remain calm. She was trying to hold herself together for you. You hated this. You hated that you were going to put her through the same pain you felt when she died. You wanted nothing more than to be by her side, and to love her along the way, no matter what obstacles life would put you through.

“I love you,” you whimpered, and a sob escaped her.

Her chest heaved as she cupped your cheek with her other hand. Was this what you felt all those years ago? This sense of helplessness that made her want to tear her own hair out? Was it the dread of watching someone die knowing that she couldn’t stop it? She had all these powers. Wanda had all of these amazing abilities. She was the damn Scarlet Witch, and yet she didn’t have the power to save you. This wasn’t like when her parents died, or when her brother died. This wasn’t even like when Vision died. There had been a despairing kind of bitter acceptance that she felt with all of them, though her brother’s death had been the most painful. With you, Wanda felt hysteria claw at the edges of her logical mind, her desperation tearing through her body and wrapping around her heart, and she began shaking her head as she watched your eyes slip shut.

“Y/n? детка? Please…”

Even as she begged, she could feel your heart rate slowing down beneath the fingertips that pressed against your neck. Your heart was tired, and it was trying to keep you alive, but the muscle was sluggish in its own beats. You took a weak breath, and then another raspy one, before you spoke again.

“I-I’m sorry…Wands.”

She felt your hand go slack in her hold. Wanda squeezed her eyes closed, her heart fracturing as painful sobs wracked her body. She leaned over you, her forehead resting against yours as she continued to hold your hand.

“Don’t leave me, детка,” she pled. “Please don’t leave me. Please stay. I love you too.”

You didn’t respond, and for the first time in a long while, Wanda let her grief swallow her whole. She screamed into the night as she sat up, her eyes at the starry sky, but unable to see anything through the tears. She felt the pressure grow in her body, and even as her throat ached, she screamed and screamed and screamed, until a shockwave of red exploded from her body. It engulfed Bruce, Tony, and Thor, who had watched you sadly, but the sheer force of her grief was like a bomb detonating. They were all sent flying backwards as Wanda clutched on to your body, her screams haunting the night and filling it with her sorrow.

Part 15

[zhalfirin-binds]

Details of my bind of A princess of Mars

Since I kept making small mistakes. Starting with the wrong printing format, then forgetting to adjust the sewing so I could trim (I did not plan for margins quite as large as they are... ). The backing turned a bit wonky too. So I decided I'd try some new things on this book.

I wanted to use the interference colours I have with a different base coat. They come out best with a black or dark ground colouring. Before I used oak gall ink, because that was what I had (and I love to watch the magic happen when it turns from translucent blue to black), but iron, in whatever form, is the last thing you want in a book because it will rust and damage the paper over time.

So I did some testing with a few different inks to check for effect and smudging and eventually switched to a china ink.

The one I got has a really nice black with a slight gloss to it. That should have tipped me off, but I kept going and just painted the edge with the interference colour acrylic ink just to watch how it gathered in the lowest part (I did the front edge with the curve first) and took forever to dry. Trying to help that with a hair dryer only needed me up with a pattern of tiny ripples. When I opened the book I could see the paint had been too thick in some parts and flaked off a bit. I diluted and kept painting, with way better results, eventually, but it's still not completely even on the front edge (the picture here is the 3. or 4. result... I was just tired to keep going at that point). The top and bottom edge look fine though.

Covering the case was a bit of an adventure too for a few reasons. I wanted to avoid and gaps... but first I failed to accurately estimate the stretch of my different papers then I forgot to consider the overlap and figuring out which part should overlap which was a challenge. I went of the green layer that wraps all around the case as top layer so it could cover all pointy edge I had not covered yet. The pointy bits are always the most likely to take damage or get loose. So I had that taken care off. I still have a small spot on the backside that's not the layer it's supposed to be, but it blends in well enough with the other colours.

Another thing that I did not think of was, when I cut the onlays was how overlapping would impact the shape. the yellow was supposed to be a nice slanting hill in the foreground... well, I would have had to keep that in mind for the overlapping toplayer.

I also thought about titling the cover and even got as far as test titling with copper, gold, creme, red and brown (the line between creme and brown, that's red, I know it's turned invisible, bu it is there). None of the results made me overly happy though so I skipped it.

Last thing, but I'm not sure whether it's a mark of the construction or the hinge is too small, the backing not sufficient, is the opening angle of the covers. It opens alright, but when I push the cover a bit down it drags the text block along and it looks like there's too much tension on it to me. I'll have to see for my next binds if I can optimise that.

I liked the spread out design enough to make it a picture for my wall ^^

[luckiestplartt]

For my Literature class i was allowed to make a short comic adaptation of a literary work that influenced me, so I picked Demian. If you want to read my explanation of why I picked it and made certain decisions, you can read it under the cut ! :)

[It is 862 words. I only needed to write 2 paragraphs. I... really like this book LOL]

I chose to adapt Herman Hesse's "Demian" because it's a very influential book for me. I saw myself in the protagonist, Emil Sinclair in how he worries about what other people think of him as a kid, leading him to tell different lies to different people. His struggle to rationalize what is "good" or "evil" is rooted in his religious upbringing, and his first step towards discovering himself and his own values is from someone (Demian) telling him a different perspective, and inviting him to think for himself. I felt seen in how Sinclair wants to be guided by others, but feels unable to teach others, and seeing him eventually reach independence makes me want to reach that point too. He starts off the book seperating things into binaries like Man and Woman, Good and Evil, but over the course of the book those concepts start to overlap and gray for him. He admires Demian and Beatrice for being a boy with feminine features, and a girl with masculine features, and when he eventually meets Frau Eva, he loves how handsome she is. The scene I adapted, where he sees himself in his own painting, not visually but emotionally, really connects with me as an artist who puts themself into their work, and gets a slightly better understanding of myself when I first step back and look at it. I don't want my pictures to look like a mirror of me, but still reflect me somehow. And with my experience with gender, I see myself in Sinclair's idealization of androgyny, even if those sorts of words would not be used at the time. This connection I felt with the book helped move me to read more classic literature and see myself in them.

I decided for the first page to not have a lot of narration because I felt that it could be told through pictures. The scene starts with the sun "slanting red through my window" during sunset, and "Inside my room it was dusk", which gave me my color palette for the comic; reds and warm purples. Sinclair is not very detailed in the first page because I thought it would feel more atmospheric, and to emphasize the self discovery on the second page. The three panels on the bottom were repeated with subtle changes in expression to give the feeling of time passing as, in the narration, "For a long time I sat oppposite it even after the picture had faded out." He blends in with the light of the painting because of how much he's taking it in; the last panel's sudden contrast is the moment of realization leading up to the next page. The painting's sudden detail is partly because I got too into drawing it, but is so important that it should be in substantially more detail; it is a catalyst for Sinclair, and it is symbolic of his connections (and future connections) in the book. Besides Sinclair's emotions, it is the most detailed description in that scene, and the way he describes it radiates joy and excitement.

The first panel of page two has vague drawings of Beatrice and Demian, with Sinclair sparking with recognition. I wanted him to have a similiar feeling as the painting, glowing with color, because this is an important moment for him. Beatrice is not very detailed because he has never talked to her; she is someone who he saw on the street and admired, and at that point, he had not met Demian in years. "But myself" is split from the sentance to give more emphasis on his revelation. The second panel's narration is split but tied together to make it feel more floaty and slow, to emphasize each point, and to help direct readers to the next panel with Demian (the lines in the last panel are also supposed to help cheat with that). The text around Demian purposefully switches alignment and leaves extra space to 1) help connect the flow of narration from the second to the fourth panel, and 2) because it conveys Sinclair's semi-divine view of Demian (masculine and feminine, youthful and mature). The woman in the fourth panel (who he later realizes to be Frau Eva) has especially split narration because he doesn't know her yet, and she is a dreamy "ideal" to him; she isn't concrete in his world yet. For panel 2 and 5, there is an egg cracking and a bird flying off as a reference to a motif later on in the book; "The bird fights its way out of the egg. The egg is the world. Who would be born first must destroy a world. The bird flies to God. That God's name is Abraxas." This quote has found its way into media inspired by Demian, and influences how people see the characters, and it's an especially touching quote because of how strong and confident it feels. If the bird (Sinclair) is not able to break his egg (the sheltered world he grew up in), he will never "hatch" and fly to Abraxas (self-discovery). It felt especially important to me to include this motif even if it hasn't technically appeared in the book yet, because it is a perfect metaphor for growing up and for Emil Sinclair.

[cellspex]

Halloween Animation Day 9: Infinity Train

The nigh perfect series that was 'lost' in HBOmax purge. It's only available now in individual episode purchases.

Infinity Train is a fantastic blend of horror, sci-fi and character built right into its premise. Each season focuses on a different character getting trapped on the train where each car is something different from an alien world, to a simple challenge to an abstract concept. Each character is given a number that supposed represents their 'flaws' and they can't leave until the flaws are 'fixed'. Axed before its time to properly explore how or why the train determines 'flaws' or whether its methods on average even work, because while it works for some, it also makes other worse. Also it kills people.

While each season features a new character, each season is still connected with overlapping side characters and one particular through line 'protagonist' that again we never get a chance to fully dive into.

Season 2 is my favorite, season 3 is the darkest, season 1 is a good intro, and season 4 just feels like 'another season' but its still really good.

If I could revive one series it would be this one.

[la-principessa-nuova]

It’s weird being 5’10” and transfem

because, like, my older relatives are all like, “Wow, you’re so tall!” but then relative to people my own age, back when i was judged as a guy, i was average height (according to whatever i read at the time 5’9” was average, and 5’10” if you only looked at younger adults).

but i’d hear shallow girls talking about how anyone under 6 feet tall is short, so I always thought of myself as “technically average, but unfairly called short, and that’s fine”.

but i always had this weird feeling when i was in a room with only women (especially a large one like a storeh, and i was so much taller, that i think Taylor Swift described well with “and I’m a monster on the hill”

but like a (figurative) voice in my head was like, “You should be fine with this because you’re supposed to be a big, tall man”, but, like, i wasn’t okay with it at all.

and then if a guy walks in, i feel like i want to throw up or cry or something bc it’s like this immediate recognition over the heads of all the women in the store that there is some similarity between us and that just felt wrong in a way i did not understand.

but if a tall woman walked in, i did feel that kinship that i “should have” felt with the men who walked in. And especially if there were a few tall women, or a mixture of people of various heights with enough that i no longer stood out as tall, i felt so much better, like i could breathe in the anonymity of it.

i felt this a lot recently (except understanding what it was now) when at Habitat for Humanity ReStore looking at the used furniture, and it was entirely women in the store, mostly older women (and maybe some short kings blending in), and i was by far the tallest person in the whole store as far as i could see, and i just felt so other. but then a couple women about my height walked in and i felt so relieved to not be the monster in the room.

but yeah, now my older relatives are right, and i’m a bit taller than average now, but also i don’t feel, like, freakishly tall. like, i know plenty of cis women my height and taller, so like, compared to other traits that technically overlap with ranges for cis women but are so extreme, this one just isn’t a big deal. it only makes me feel weird in the same way it makes many cis women feel weird when you happen to not have any other tall friends around.

[texas-gothic]

I think I've uncovered the primary problem that is causing this Bonney controversy.

One Piece, as a story, is experiencing (has been experiencing really, since before the timeskip if we're all being honest) a crisis of genres. On one hand, One Piece is a story about adventure on the high seas, about the rigors of oppression, and about the joys of finding a family to call your own and the true freedom that comes with that. On the other hand, One Piece is also a Shounen Battle Manga about a plucky, young fighter battling his way through waves of strong and threatening opponents as he carves his way to the top, to become King of The Pirates.

Now, over the last nearly 30 years of outrageous success, One Piece has been able to balance these two sides of itself with great finess. An excellent example of this I think is Ennies Lobby, which manages to give both audiences exactly what they want. The audience which is invested primarily in the narrative and characters gets to have "I WANT TO LIVE!" and the audience which is invested in the combat and the struggle get to have a knock-down drag-out fight with Lucci. It's a beautiful blend, and it's undeniably a huge part of what has allowed One Piece to become the biggest weekly publication in the world.

(A note before we continue: obviously, there are more than just two audiences for One Piece. A lot of these interests overlap, and other people are coming in for different factors entirely. If there were only two appeals here, Oda would not have an audience of literally billions.)

However, as we rapidly close in on One Piece's long-awaited finale, it's becoming increasingly clear that one of these factors is greatly going to outweigh the other. Oda does not care about the traditional conventions of shounen jump. He just doesn't. And I suppose it's only natural that the very vocal minority that still expects him to are increasingly upset by how far Oda is deviating from them. First, they got disappointed by Gear 5 being an Animaniac instead of the stoic, angry can of whoop ass genre expectations led them to anticipate. Then they get even that rug pulled out from under them when it turns out that Nika isn't even actually about being strong, it's about being free. Now, people who have actually been paying attention tl the characters, themes, and narrative could have called any of that a dozen miles away, because those aspects of the story all have been building toward these conclusions. But it's sensible that those who haven't would be caught off guard and even disappointed by the direction that One Piecr has taken.

I guess my point here is that One Piece has come to the point where it's deciding what it really is. And while I'm sure there will still be lots of amazing action in store as we work toward facing One Piece's longest running antagonists, it's becoming increasingly clear that these fights and transformations and tests of strength are the means rather than the ends. And if that's not something you're okay with, I would suggest that you probably start getting okay with it.

[trans-axolotl]

Image description: [Screenshots of pages from Brilliant Imperfection by Eli Clare. Text reads:

Your Suicide Haunts me.

Bear, it’s been over a decade since you killed yourself, and still I want to howl. I feel anguish and rage rattling down at the bottom of my lungs, pressing against my rib cage. If ever my howling erupts, I will take it to schoolyards and churches, classrooms and prisons, homes where physical and sexual violence lurk as common as mealtime. I know many of us need to wail. Together we could shatter windows, bring bullies and perpetrators to their knees, stop shame in its tracks.

Once a week, maybe once a month, I learn of another suicide. They’re friends of friends, writers and dancers who have bolstered me, activists I’ve sat in meetings with, kids from the high school down the road, coworkers and acquaintances, news stories and Facebook posts. They’re queer, trans, disabled, chronically ill, youth, people of color, poor, survivors of abuse and violence, homeless. They’re too many to count.

Bear, will you call their names with me? It’s become a queer ritual, this calling of the names—all those dead of AIDS and breast cancer, car accidents and suicide, hate violence and shame, overdoses and hearts that just stop beating. The names always begin wave upon wave, names filling conference halls, church basements, city parks. Voices call one after another, overlapping, clustering, then coming apart, a great flock of songbirds, gathering to fly south, wheeling and diving—this cloud of remembrance. Then quiet. I think we’re done, only to have another voice call, then two, then twenty. We fill the air for thirty minutes, an hour, a great flock of names. Tonight, will you sit with me? Because, Bear, I can’t sleep.

I remember your smile, your kindness, your compassionate and fierce politics. I remember our long e-mail conversations about being disabled and trans. I remember a brilliant speech you gave at True Spirit, a trans gathering in Washington, DC. I remember you telling me about how you’d disappear for months at a time when your life became grim, how you’d do anything not to go to a psych hospital again. I remember your handsome Black queer trans disabled working-class self. And then, you were gone.

The details of your death haunt me. You had checked yourself in. You were on suicide watch. I imagine your desperation and suffering. I know racism, transphobia, classism colluded. The nurses and aides didn’t follow their own protocols, not bothering to check on you every fifteen minutes. You were alive and sleeping at 5:00 a.m. and dead at 7:00 a.m.; at least that’s what their records say. Did despair clog your throat, panic coil in your intestines? In those last moments, what lingered on your tongue? I know about your death as fleetingly as your life.

Bear, I’d do almost anything to have you alive here and now, anything to stave off your death. But what did you need then? Drugs that worked? A shrink who listened and was willing to negotiate the terms of your confinement with you? A stronger support system? An end to shame and secrecy? As suffering and injustice twisted together through your body-mind, what did you need?

I could almost embrace cure without ambivalence if it would have sustained your life. But what do I know? Maybe your demons, the roller coaster of your emotional and spiritual self, were so much part of you that cure would have made no sense. You wrote not long before your death, “In a world that separates gender, I have found the ability to balance the blending of supposed opposites. In a world that demonizes non-conformity, I have found the purest spiritual expression in celebrating my otherness.”

Yes, Bear. I know that truth. Your otherness was a beautiful braid— your hard-earned trans manhood looping into your Black self, wrapped in working-class smarts and resilience, woven into disability, threaded with queerness. I saw you last in an elevator at True Spirit. You told me that you were spending the weekend hanging out with trans men of color. I can still see your gleeful smile, sparkling eyes.

Friend, what would have made your life possible with all its aches and sorrows? I ask as someone who has gripped the sheer cliff face of suicide more than once. Calling the names exhausts me. Your death exhausts me. The threat, reality, fact of suicide exhausts me. Its arrival on the back of shame and isolation exhausts me. Bear, will you come sit beside me tonight? I’m too exhausted to sleep.]

From Brilliant Imperfection: Grappling with Cure by Eli Clare, pages 63-64.

This passage has stuck with me since I first read it and I find myself returning over and over, especially in the times I want to be gentle to my grief.

Thought I'd share it with you all right now <3

[enddaysengine]

To the Stars and Beyond!

A bunch of interesting things happened at PaizoCon this weekend, the most fascinating for me was something completely internal. Pathfinder wasn't the game I was focused on. Given all of the reveals about War of the Immortals, the announcement of Spore War, and about 9000 other things related to the planes, that may be surprising.

But no, this time the main event was Starfinder.

While I never got to play as much of 1e as I would've liked, I've been eagerly awaing Starfinder 2e, both as the playtest and in its final form. Starfinder's blend of science-fantasy from properties like Star Wars, Doom, and 40k took a while to grow on me, but it has solidly become one of my favorites. Plus, even in 1e, Starfinder had a lot of planar content baked into the setting. Made an argument on Twitter and BlueSky when I'm feeling spicy that between Pathfinder and Starfinder, it is the latter that is better set up to be a successor to Planescape. And oh boy that has not changed at all from the titbits they got dropped at PaizoCon. Both the playtest and 2e seem poised to lean even harder into the weird and strange parts of the setting where science fiction and fantasy overlap. I am 100% here for it.

The point that I am getting to that Paths Beyond wasn't the only project I had sitting on the back burner. There is also Star Beyond, a science fantasy take on the same weird and wonderful genre we know from Planescape. I can never predict which games my brain is going to latch on each week, but I expect I'll be writing Starfinder content for the blog in the very near future. Not just because it's fun and because Starfinder literally calls its player organizations factions, but because I have an ambition. My aim is to have Stars Beyond ready for Starfinder Infinite by the 2e launches. I actually have an outline and I'm aiming for a companion in the 40,000 to 50,000 word range. That's a big project, if I finish it, it will be easily the most words I've written for a single book, but I figure I have time on my side. It may actually be doable, but nonetheless wish me luck.

See you in the stars.

Post-Script: We also got confirmation that while 2e was in the works when OGL-gate hit, there were supposed to be more 1e books: the Faction Guide (which was being written) and the Extraplanar Archive (which was in outlining). It's a bummer we don't have either yet given what I plan to do, but it does make me feel like Stars Beyond is on the right track.

Post-post-script: I also have a place where I reblog inspirational media for this project over at @stars-beyond-sf! Check it out.

[mossy-rainfrog]

[ID in Alt Text]

strolling in fashionably late to the two year anniversary of the greatest musical adaptation of Moby Dick of all time, Caleb Hayashida's 'Moby Dick or the Whale'. I've been thoroughly enamored with this album for over a year now and it only felt right to do a tribute for its birthday :)

now, go do yourself a favor and listen to Sea Fever 💙💙

some notes about the details I added under the cut!

Some notes on this as a tribute!

Firstly, as always, my Ishmael design is stolen from the beloved @pocketsizedquasar :3

Secondly, the primary songs captured by this piece are meant to be 'Interpretation', 'Whiteness of the Whale', and 'Whaleman's Hymn'. Interpretation is primary, since that song refers directly to the painting at Spouter Inn, and Ishmael's attempts to interpret it. (Aside: it's a brilliant song that foreshadows chords repeated during the chase, it confuses and delights the listener much like book Ishmael's ramblings do, and it odes to the album itself being an interpretation of a novel. also it's a bop. I fucking love it.) The whale in the picture is, you guessed it, the whale song. That one I felt was important to center as Hayashida himself intentionally put that song at the center of the album as a focal point for the rest to follow around (and for the narrative to break inside - give it a listen, the end is incredible). It's literally the centerpiece. And finally, the lyrics are from Whaleman's Hymn, the gorgeous ode at the end of the album.

Ishmael is also posed as both moving and stagnant in the center as a reference to the cyclical nature of Hayashida's album. It ends with the same lyrics it begins with ("I must be out to sea"), and so here, Ishmael meant to be caught in the space between both of those songs. Moving and yet unable to move from where he is.

The watery effect was particularly inspired by Drifting, as that song fills me with an immense sense of peace and gives me the feeling of laying down at an aquarium watching the light of the water dance around. It also helps make the mood of the piece a bit more dynamic, as the looming painting, dissonant colors, and heavy shading all feel a bit foreboding, and the water effect both enhances that by giving an unnatural feel, and subdues that by communicating a semblance of peace and muting the colors.

The oil effect and jagged colors of the piece itself are references to the official album cover art! The flaming harpoon's colors are mimicked in the red light at the top of the painting, and the bright teal/white is mimicked in the whale at the bottom. They're also positioned over each other, just like on the album cover.

The painting itself is also supposed to be reminiscent of The Chase, in all its chaotic glory. Hayashida has an INSANE stroke of genius with that song where, at a certain point, two different time signatures overlap to show the whale opposing the crew/Ahab. The blend is so smooth that it's easy to miss if you aren't looking for it, and yet so brilliant that it makes you anxious for the buildup and final clash. The saturated opposing colors are supposed to be something of a nod to that, as well as the nature of the painting being a sinking ship and a white whale lol

So, yeah those are my notes! :D thank you for reading and definitely give this masterpiece a listen!! 💙💙

[silvershayde]

An Acaesian Encyclopaedia

Darena’s Seafarers: Sirelians (Aqua Sirens)

Second Instalment for Darena’s Seafarers! This is about Sirelians! The other Seafarers include: Merfolk, Melusines, and Nymphs/Nereids. Of the four treasures Darena handed out, the Sirelians were given the Bident.

Before I get into the nitty gritty, I wanna go over why I named them Sirelians rather than just Sirens. Everyone knows Sirens right? Well, first off the original version of Sirens were bird like, and many of you may already know that. So because both Sirelians and Sirens have the hypnotic voice that can sing a lullaby of doom, the names have had an overlap and they’ve been conflated with one another, which is why I put in brackets Aqua Siren next to their original name. Another name would be Darena’s Sirens since Zetune has her own Sirens; they treat each other like cousins even though they are in no way related. So yeah they are not Sirens since they cannot fly, are not bird-like and do not fall under Zetune’s domain of Caeli. (For the uninformed Caeli is wind/air.)

Anyway! They’re mostly found in the area within and surrounding Sirelia, which is found in the ocean east of Theia/Turnunda (sorry again my map needs updating, once it is I’ll link it in these posts) which would put it south west of Aquaria. Like Merfolk you can find Sirelians in fresh waters.

First off, yes they have two tails, and the tails blend with the upper body. And yes I know the two tail thing is a Melusine thing, but I have my reasons (I came up with Sirelians first and they were initially supposed to be like Selkies because, again, they aren’t technically Sirens. Calling Sirelians Sirens is a land dweller’s misguided label. Like how red pandas aren’t pandas.)

I will note before I move on that there is practically no gender dimorphism that you can see on a Sirelian no matter what upper body they’re rocking.

Second! Unlike Merfolk their tails are more colloquially fish-like. (I use colloquially because classification and fish are not friends so to hell with it.) Their tails can also either be smooth or have scales and if it exists as a fish there’s most likely a Sirelian variant of it. Their hands are webbed and have it on their ears too. They have gills and their nostrils are just to smell not to breathe.

The sclera of a Sirelian is black, and when in hunting mode or when the prey drive is triggered the pupil dilates a LOT. (The iris being bigger on the right is a drawing error but I’ve sat here for nearly three hours doing it)

Through their hypnotic voice and applying their manipulation of Aqua to shapeshifting, Sirelians can change the way they look. Whether it is changing the sclera of their eyes to white, changing the appearance of their teeth to make it less… uh… terrifying to hiding the webs in their hands, and the extra limbs on their arms. Similar to octopuses and cuttlefish they can change the colour of their bodies, but unlike them they can do it consciously rather than just being an environmental reaction.

The one thing they can’t change the image of is how their upper bodies meet their tails, and how many tails they have. This is why those are the only two reliable identifiers to distinguish Sirelians from Merfolk.

[no-stupid-questions-official]

ok so you know how with vision, each eye sees a slightly different image that then overlap and merge together in the brain, making up the image we see.

is this resulting image supposed to be like… completely clear? (not counting things like astigmatism and myopia etc of course) is the “normal” thing to not notice the overlap *at all* or is noticing the sort of “blend” between the two slightly different angles normal?

-

[jester-lover]

this is my first time writing a request, so please let me know if i need to be more specific! i was wondering if you could write a desi reader x the dorm heads (twisted wonderland). like introducing the boys to the culture and stuff like that? thank you!!

YES OF COURSE!!!! I’m desi myself! We desperately need representation in anime/game spaces, these are just the ones I could think of one the spot, but I saw this request and it made my day!!

also fun fact: this blog was originally supposed to be centered around desi women, but I couldn’t keep up with that idea, this is such a lovely reminder!!

Warnings: Fluff, food, hair mentioned, ‘starting a family’ mention but no kids or anything, unapologetic cultural appreciation, desi families (positive), author calls the pale ones gora pakoras, rambling

Dorm Leaders with a Desi Girlfriend!

Riddle Rosehearts

I don’t think you understand how much your mom loves him

His spice tolerance is at ZERO, but boy will he try for you

He adores gulab jamuns, I mean ROSES?? WITH DESSERT?? This is his destiny

Adores chai, drinks more chai than all your aunts combined

He loves chai so much he’ll ask for you to make it for the tea parties, drinks the chai with biscuits

OFF WITH THEIR HEAD to anyone who calls it ‘chai tea’ !!!

Desi jewelry is his favorite thing you wear, the intricate patterns and shapes make his heart beat faster

If you get him jewelry he’s probably gonna cry

“You look absolutely gorgeous, I almost can't believe you’re with me.” 

Leona Kingscholar

The mix of y’all’s cultures is perfect

He will happily eat spicy meat, he can go on about the meat

Biryani is his favorite, goat or chicken

You might expect me to say your parents don’t like him, but HE’S LITERALLY A PRINCE, man is rich asf you’re gonna be taken care of

He’s also so respectful to your mom, she def tells you to act more like him

If you have to accompany him to some gaudy event in the savanna, and  you choose to wear cultural clothing, like a sari or salwar kameez, he’s literally frozen

o

m

g

He’s buying a ring as we speak

All the whatsapp aunties are gossiping about the two of you, but you literally couldn’t care

He’s def the type to buy you jewelry

“I- god for once in my life I literally don’t have words, you’re glowing.” 

Azul Ashengrotto

I will defend fishy fishman until my last day

he is such a good boyfriend, always treating you out and keeping you happy

Your parents support you two, because Azul has a good head on his shoulders and has a good chance of being successful

He really adores you in blue, especially blue lehengas, you look like a princess to him

he is super appreciative whenever you introduce him to new recipes, his lounge may even use some of the spice blends you suggest (with credit)

He enjoys paneer pakoras, fried desi food is a wonder to him

“I know I’m stuffing my face right now, but can you really blame me?”

Kalim Al-Asim

HE IS PERFECT !!

He’s so happy to meet someone of a similar culture to him!

But this is also where his main problem lies..

He’s so blushy around you its crazy

Never did he think he could meet someone who he knows so well, who feels like home and warm welcomes

You two go on so many adventures

Jamil is so tired, let my man rest

Sometimes the cultural overlap is so prominent, especially in words and food items

Both of you adore a good lamb curry

You ever see that tikitok trend, the “I can’t date outside of my culture because how am I supposed to explain _______” 

You both can relate to that one.

Something about you brings out the poet in him

(I have to stop eventually because this could just become it’s own post)

“You are my home, you are warmth and kindness packed into a beautiful human being.” 

Vil Shoenheit

THIS

He’s honestly so happy to be in a relationship with a desi girl, you open up a whole new world to him

I feel like he would be an appreciator of desi bread on his cheat days

Especially paratha, it’s so buttery and rich, he’ll eat it with achaar

Your clothes always astound him

He’s used to glitz and glamour, but the sheer amount of detail in your outfits, that will leave him speechless

I believe he’d enjoy salwar kameez, especially in a more early 2000s way (think kabhi khushi kahbie gham)

Honestly he enjoys everything about desi fashion, he deeply respects you for wearing those HEAVY

Helps you oil your hair, it’s an extremely intimate moment and you grow a lot closer together

“Liebling, please hold still, I still have to get to the back of your head!”

Idia Shroud

(He’s Greek in my heart)

Idia is such a little loser/pos

He’s so nervous at any of your family gatherings, ortho has to hype him up before

He’s definitely the person at a desi house party who slips away after the food is served, literally gone

If he ever visits your country (in a different dimension lol) he might have a tough time

Homie is so sensitive to hot weather, he’s getting sunburned so hard

He gets so shy when you’re all dolled up, he can’t even look you in the eye

You just look so above his league

This is where you build his confidence, because he would look gorgeous in desi clothes 

Him in a kurta is the thing that would actually kill me

Idia is obsessed with you, even if the time you spend together is spent inside his room, cuddled up watching anime or playing games instead of socializing

You probably get him into old bollywood movies

“I mean, we ate already, what’s the point of sticking around?”

Malleus Draconia

He’s a well educated person, so he probably keeps a respectful distance until you start educating him on your culture

Malleus deeply enjoys the sense of family in desi culture, the community that helps one another and keeps your head lifted

It reminds him of his own caring upbringing

He’s another appreciator of desi desserts, more modern ones tend to stick to him better, like mango ice cream 

He is smitten with Rooh Afza in milk, even if he doesn’t need human drinks

He finds your cultural apparel so pretty

especially if you wear deeper colors like emerald and black

He really just wants to match

Really enjoys historical drama bollywood movies

Is the type to tell you when your chunni is slipping off, and carries extra safety pins to help with fashion mishaps

“I hope one day, our own family will be a beautiful as this.”

I’m so sorry for the bad dialogue, every time I try to think of something a character says, the voice in my head (inner monologue) turns into bob belcher from bob’s burgers. I will be trying my best to fix the flat dialogue with better nicknames and stuff. Thank you for reading.