#but it is also an ADDITIONAL top layer
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
fearforthestorm · 1 year ago
Text
the thing nobody tells you about having a signature jacket that you spent so much time on and want to wear everywhere is that eventually you want to do different things stylistically with your outfits and you have to figure out how the fuck to make a spiked black denim jacket work with a pair of overalls. and oh boy lemme tell you. it is not easy to make that combo look good.
72 notes · View notes
dkettchen · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
More lesbian sanami was requested, so please have one of the many headcanons that live in my brain rent-free
2K notes · View notes
pseuddamntired · 6 months ago
Text
Re: the request for hotdish advice in Prev’s tags— I left some thoughts in the tags, with the caveat that I am no experienced cook but I am familiar with casseroles (not hotdish in the case of my family, just casserole) at family gatherings. So I have some predictions.
I also bring another recipe of his that was featured in an article! lol. This one seems to have more solid stuff in it.
JD Vance: *is from the midwest, claims to be for the working class normal folks, went to Yale and is a venture capitalist*
Tim Walz:
Tumblr media
11K notes · View notes
bisexualadamparrish · 1 month ago
Text
Tumblr media
in case anyone was wondering how my saturday was
1 note · View note
ilibelle · 5 months ago
Text
Imagine that your uniform is made up of several layers of different types of fabric and bulletproof shields. In addition to the extra fabric, you wear a mask and helmet that cover your entire face. Your costume makes it impossible to identify whether you are a woman or a man, and to top it off, you never speak. This leads people who aren't part of your squad to believe that you're just a short man who never speaks.
You work for the squad led by Colonel König. Recently, there were some situations that resulted in Kortac temporarily joining Task Force 141, two squads united to capture a terrorist.
You are not and have never been a sociable person. You don't talk to people you don't know and you always let someone else do the talking for you. As much as you are an adult woman, mature enough to make decisions on your own, you are shy. Very shy.
It's not unusual for other people to ask your teammates about you, always wondering why you don't speak up. They ask about the many layers of fabric that make up your outfit, whether you don't suffocate from the excess cloth and pockets.
And these people always refer to you in the masculine.
Always.
Soap is a bit of a curiosity when it comes to mysterious people who don't interact much with others in the room and who just stand in a quiet corner, far away from any living thing in the room. No wonder he made Ghost his best friend.
So believe me when I say that he's intrigued by you. The mysterious, masked guy in the dark corner of the room, who so far hasn't interacted with anyone since he arrived. You've caught his attention, but he won't talk to you because something inside him tells him not to come up to you out of the blue.
Something inside him tells him to take it easy this time, because that something inside him thinks that the outside of that guy should be molded slowly to reveal the inside. Does that make sense?
The first person Soap will ask about you is König, because them strangely hit it off, much to the unhappiness of Ghost, who didn't like König. Perhaps it's because he's taller and has stolen the role of being the tallest in the room from Ghost.
And also because he saw König talking to you about something, but you didn't use your voice and just nodded. Which led him to think that maybe you were mute.
Soap approached König with a smile, bringing up some other subject before starting to ask questions about you. He doesn't want to sound weird.
"Hm... You know, I keep asking myself..." Soap begins, waiting for a signal to continue.
"What is it?" König asks, crossing his arms and smiling beneath his mask.
"That guy in the corner... Why doesn't he join the others?"
"Oh." König straightens his posture and looks at you, standing in the corner of the room and staring at an interesting spot on the floor. "She's a bit shy, don't worry."
The gears turned slowly in Soap's head after this information.
"IT'S A WOMAN?!!??!!!!?"
It wasn't Soap's intention to draw the attention of everyone in the room, Including you, to him and König. But it just happened.
Hello:)) it's my first time posting something written by me and my English is terrible, but I tried my best with a translator 😞
6K notes · View notes
celestial-sphere-press · 1 month ago
Text
Book Decoration: AKA All The Ways I Don't Use a Cricut
(this post is for people who don't want to buy an expensive cutting tool, or for those that do have an expensive cutting tool that would like to mix things up a little)
1. Print That Shit
Tumblr media
If you're already printing your own textblocks, an easy step for titles is to print them. Above is a title printed onto an "obi" of decorative paper. I measured out where I wanted things on the finished book and laid it out in Affinity, then printed it on a full sheet & trimmed it down to wrap around the book. A more simple method is to print & glue on the label into a slight indent in the cover (to protect it). A third option is to do the spine in bookcloth, while you print on paper for the cover and then glue that paper onto the boards (this usually looks even better when it is a three-piece bradel bind).
2. Foil Quill / Heat Pens
The heat pen is one of my go-to tools, but it can be a bit touchy about materials. The most popular version is the We R Memory Keepers' Foil Quill (which is one of the most ergonomic), but other pens exist that can get you to a higher heat temp, finer lines, or more consistent foil. For example, I have a pen created by a local Japanese bookbinding studio that fares way better on leathers than the WRMK quill & with a finer tip, but it's hell to control. Best results in general are on paper or smooth bookcloth (starched linen, arrestox, colibri - even duo will work but its less solid). The fuzzier a bookcloth is, the less your foil quill wants to deal with it. This means the heat n bond method of making bookcloth does not play nice with a heat pen usually, but there are two solutions: 1) use this tutorial on paste + acrylic medium coated bookcloth instead that will get you a perfect surface for the heat pen, or 2) use the pen on paper & then glue onto the cloth. I did a video tutorial for both foil quill use and this type of homemade bookcloth for @renegadeguild Binderary in 2023.
You get the most consistent results by tracing through a printed template that is taped in place, as I do in the video above.
Tumblr media
3. Paint That Shit
Tumblr media
Acrylic paints will do you fine! The above is free-handed with a circle template, because I wanted that vibe. If you need straight lines that won't seep, lay them down with tape first & then paint over it first with a clear Acrylic medium, then your color. Same goes for stencils. Two more examples of painted bookcloth:
Tumblr media Tumblr media
4. IT'S GOT LAYERS
Tumblr media
By using layers of thinner boards, you can create interesting depths & contrasts on your cover. You can also make cutouts that peep through to the decorative paper behind. The most important part to this technique is the order in which each edge is wrapped. To get a good wrapped inside edge, you will split the turn in into tabs to get them to conform to a curve. You can also layer multiple colors of bookcloth without multiple layers of board, as seen below left, so long as you mind your cut edges for fraying.
5. Inlaid... anything
Tumblr media
Mirrors! Marbled paper! I saw someone do a pretty metal bookmark once! The key is creating a little home for it to live in, which is pretty similar to the above layering method. On one layer you cut the shape, & glue that layer onto the bottom solid board before covering. You can do the top layer as an entire 1 mm board (like I did for the mirrors) or a sheet of cardstock, like I would use for inlaid paper.
6. Decorative Paper
Tumblr media
Decorative paper is always helpful & adds to the paper hoard... & its effects can be layers with other techniques, as below. Marbles, chiyogami, momi, or prints & maps of all kinds can be great additions. Some papers may need a protective coating (such as wax or a sealer).
Tumblr media
7. Stamps (with optional linocut)
Tumblr media
While I've not used many more regular rubber stamps, I do know some who have, successfully! And I've used one once or twice with embossing powder (see photo 3 up, the gold anchor on the little pamphlet bind). What also works is to carve your own linocut or stamp, & then use block printing ink to ink it onto your fabric (as i did above). A bit time intensive, but it was nice how easily reproducible it was, and I liked the effect I got for this particular bind.
These methods are not exhaustive, just ones I've used, and there are of course many others. I haven't gone too into detail on any of these for the sake of length (& post photo limits) but feel free to ask about more specifics. Usually I'm using them in combination with other options.
674 notes · View notes
manglam-marfach · 11 months ago
Text
so yea I think laios tries to give chilchuck one of his teeth :}
I'm a huge fan of stories where characters come from such different cultures that it makes it genuinely difficult for them to like. TELL whether they have mutual romantic interest, let alone COMMUNICATE it.
ESPECIALLY especially especially when there are aliens or fantasty species with different physiologies that mean even attempting to perform the gestures of romance from your beloved's culture might not be possible!
-Miscommunication!
-Mutual pining!
- No common playbook to follow! ERGO...having to invent ur own!
Yes its about queerness. Yes its about social scripts and the people who struggle to exist within them. Yes its about the beauty of cultural diversity and exploring new worlds because of LOVE and creating a new language to communicate … together <3
61 notes · View notes
blacktabbygames · 2 months ago
Text
Scarlet Hollow UI Redesign Work In Progress
HELLO! As some of you may know we've been hard at work on a large overhaul patch for the first four episodes of Scarlet Hollow to bring the game closer to our ever-higher standards. While there are a lot of content changes and additions coming with the update, here's spoiler-free look at how the UI side of it is coming along. New UI on top, old UI on bottom. First, and most importantly is the updated textbox. We've been adding a lot of detail to small UI elements, and this is no exception — there are more leaves, and those leaves have some color in them now, which we feel makes the in-game art feel a lot richer. On the usability side, you'll notice that this new box is both taller, meaning that we can fit more options before you need to scroll, and that the scrollbar is located further to the right, meaning options can be longer before flowing onto the next line. (Again, meaning there will be less scrolling.) We've also moved the quick menu into the textbox so it no longer overlaps with any background art.
Tumblr media
Next up, we've got the main menu. Not a ton to say here. Logo is smaller and has some color so it feels less stark. The font choice is tighter, and we added a border where the text options start to improve the feel of things. In general we're trying to make options that make the interface feel warmer, more organic, and less sterile.
Tumblr media
Next we've got the in-game menu. Again, framing things with organic shapes to provide better flow and separation. We've also added a wooden "frame" around each save game thumbnail give them a more natural feeling.
Tumblr media
Similar notes for the new confirmation screen. We're probably going to increase the opacity a little bit. At the moment is a little too transparent.
Tumblr media
The journal has new assets, and instead of a generic cross-hatched background, we add a semi-transparent black layer so you can still see the game world behind it.
Tumblr media
And speaking of generic cross-hatching, we've also removed it from character creation, instead replacing it with backgrounds from inside the game. Overall this should feel a lot more welcoming.
Tumblr media
These backgrounds change with each new slide, too. Here's how trait selection works.
Tumblr media
Anyways that's it for now! Happy new year :)
705 notes · View notes
fangdokja · 16 days ago
Text
🔞Every glance you give someone is a dagger in his heart, and he's ready to make you bleed.
Tumblr media
❤︎ Synopsis. In the shadows of his love, your every breath becomes a betrayal. His jealousy is a silent poison, and you are its only cure—or its next victim.
♡ Book. Forbidden Fruits: Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.
♡ Pairing. Yandere! Mr. Reca x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Mydei x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Anaxa x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Phainon x Fem. Reader
♡ Headcanons. Falling Into Darkness - Part 2
♡ Word Count. 8,536
♡ TW. dom + top + older + slightly sadistic yandere, general non-con + manipulation, rape, psychological + mental conditioning, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, rough play and sex, psychological + emotional trauma, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances, threats, Stockholm Syndrome, name calling, slight degradation, humiliation, choking, slapping, fingering, forced oral, forced penetration, orgasm control, orgasm denial
♡ Note. This was made before the official releases of characters, so be warned that some information may be inaccurate once additional lore comes out.
♡ A/N. I'm so mindblocked lol. Horror content is not cooperating with me this week. Genuinely tweaking rn. So, time for some long-awaited vanilla yandere content, before I ruin these characters dead-dove style. haha jk jk maybe. This is mostly a prequel to my actual dead dove style. Also, I did not mean to make this spicy... it just happened when I was experimenting, but oh well. Don't expect anything intense though, just generic vanilla sex. Tch, boring vanilla rape. But I can't put intense sex yet, because I'll go overboard with the word count. It's why I'm separating each character with their own unique dead dove AHD sex style for the SNAPPED Jealousy headcanons.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
♡ Mr. Reca.
"You’re mine, every piece of you—don’t you dare forget it. If anyone else dares to claim even a fraction of you, I’ll tear them apart with the same hands that make you scream my name."
The film reels of jealousy and desire—that’s how he would describe it. It’s never just rage that ignites Mr. Reca’s blood when someone else dares to linger too long in your shadow or lets their voice settle too comfortably in your ears. No, his jealousy is something far more visceral, more layered, more artful. He doesn’t just feel it; he directs it, letting it curl around his mind like the smoke of an old projector, every scene carefully composed to bring him closer to you. And when his jealousy crescendos into action, it is a masterpiece of possessive control and agonizing intimacy.
He sees you standing there—your figure illuminated by a faint and indifferent light, a half-smile on your lips as someone else dares to reach into his frame, contaminating the edges of his perfect shot. You don’t notice it at first, the way his dark eyes narrow, calculating and predatory, as though you are a wayward actress forgetting her role. You’re too distracted, too naïve, too willing to let your attention stray.
But not for long.
"You’re quite the little performer, aren’t you?" His voice is warm, teasing, as if you’re still unaware of the undertow beneath his words. The others in the room may laugh at his seemingly harmless tone, but you feel the subtle coil tightening around you. There’s always that edge of danger, of barely concealed madness, in the way he speaks. And as he takes measured steps toward you, his towering frame eclipsing everything else, you begin to realize you’re already in his trap.
Later, when it’s just the two of you, his true colors bleed through. His hands—so deft, so controlled when holding a camera or framing a shot—grip your wrists with precision that borders on clinical, pinning you against the cold, unforgiving wall of his studio. There’s no escape here. The room smells faintly of old film and chemicals, a suffocating aroma that mixes with the heat of his breath on your neck.
"Did you think I wouldn’t notice? That I wouldn’t see you handing out smiles to someone else like a whore handing out free tickets? Let me tell you something, darling…" His lips curl into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, his teeth grazing the delicate shell of your ear. You flinch, and he chuckles low and dangerous, the sound vibrating through your entire body. "I notice everything. Every flicker of your eyes, every shift in your tone, every breath you take that isn’t meant for me."
His jealousy isn’t just anger; it’s possession laced with hunger, a ravenous need to mark and claim every inch of you. He doesn’t just want to punish you for daring to let someone else see your light; he wants to remind you of what you belong to—who you belong to. His hands trail down your body, slow and deliberate, as though you’re something to be dismantled piece by piece. He doesn’t ask for permission. Why would he? In his eyes, you’re already his—have always been his.
"Do you think they could touch you like this?" he growls, his fingers digging into your skin just hard enough to make you gasp. The sound sends a shiver of satisfaction through him, his smirk widening. "Do you think they could make you feel this...helpless? This raw? No one else will ever get this close to you, not while I’m alive."
And he means it. He would burn entire galaxies to ensure it.
The intimacy is suffocating, a blend of terror and thrill that leaves you trembling. He drinks in your fear as if it’s the finest wine, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic pleasure that borders on reverence. His lips find yours—not to kiss, but to devour, his teeth biting down just enough to remind you of the power he holds. His touch is everywhere, overwhelming, pulling you deeper into the dark labyrinth of his control.
"You don’t get to look at anyone else, talk to anyone else, breathe for anyone else," he murmurs against your lips, his voice honeyed with venom. His hands tighten their hold, leaving imprints that feel more like brands, as if his touch alone could etch his ownership into your very bones. "And if you try, darling, I’ll make sure you remember why that’s the last mistake you’ll ever make."
His jealousy doesn’t fade when the moment is over; it lingers, a constant shadow that follows you wherever you go. He watches you like a hawk, always poised to swoop in the moment you step out of line. And yet, beneath the suffocating weight of his obsession, there’s something almost tender in the way he looks at you—as if you’re the one thing keeping him tethered to the madness spiraling inside him.
But even that tenderness is sharp-edged, dangerous, a reminder that his love is not something you can escape. It is a cage, beautiful and gilded, with bars made of his unyielding devotion and walls built from his insatiable need. And as you stand there, trembling beneath him, you know there’s no way out.
———
The air between you is thick—charged with something that crackles like the flickering reels of a forbidden film, a masterpiece only the two of you will ever see. You can feel him, the heat of his body pressing close, his fingers tracing idle patterns down your arms before gripping your wrists once more, this time with something more than just control. There’s want in the way his thumbs press into your pulse points, a quiet thrill in the way he feels your blood racing beneath his touch.
"Look at you," he murmurs, voice dark with amusement. "So easy to rile up. So easy to break."
You don’t respond. You can’t. Not when his mouth trails lower, ghosting over your jawline, the rough scrape of his teeth barely grazing your skin. Your breath hitches as he tilts your chin up with two fingers, forcing your gaze into his. Those dark eyes burn with something predatory, something deeper than mere jealousy—it’s hunger, raw and insatiable, and it’s all for you.
"You like this, don’t you?" he breathes, his lips brushing yours, not kissing—teasing, taunting, waiting for the moment you finally shatter beneath him. "The way I claim you. The way I remind you who you belong to."
His hands move—one curling possessively around your throat, not tight enough to hurt, but just enough to make you aware of his dominance, of the power he holds over you. The other drags down, fingertips ghosting over your collarbone before slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt. His touch is deliberate, a slow descent that makes you ache with the anticipation of what’s coming.
"You can pretend all you want," he continues, his breath hot against your ear, "but your body knows. It always does."
And then, suddenly, he presses you harder against the wall, his knee slotting between your thighs, his touch turning demanding. The moment you let out that quiet, breathless gasp, his smirk widens.
"That’s it," he purrs. "There’s my good girl."
He doesn’t wait. He doesn’t ask. He never does. Because you are his—his to own, his to ruin, his to worship in the way only he knows how. His fingers move lower, slipping beneath fabric, finding the heat of you, the evidence of just how much his jealousy has already claimed you.
"You’re dripping," he chuckles darkly, his fingers tracing over your slickness with agonizing leisure. "And all because I reminded you that you belong to me. Should I make you say it, sweetheart?"
He pushes one finger inside, slow and unrelenting, watching the way your body responds to him, watching the way your lips part in a strangled sound you barely contain. It’s intoxicating—the way you tremble, the way you fight against the pleasure even as he coaxes it out of you.
"Say it," he commands, his voice dropping into something lethal, something that leaves no room for disobedience. His grip tightens around your throat, not enough to hurt, but enough to send another wave of heat pooling low in your stomach.
You swallow, your body betraying you, your mind spiraling as his fingers work you open, slow and devastating.
"I…"
He doesn’t let up. Another finger joins the first, stretching you, teasing you, driving you closer to the edge you both know you won’t be able to resist for long.
"Say it," he growls, his lips brushing against your ear as his pace quickens, as he forces you closer to that delicious, agonizing release.
And when you finally break, when you finally let the words slip past your lips in a desperate, breathless plea, he only smirks, pressing a possessive kiss against your throat.
"That’s right," he whispers, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Mine."
And he’s nowhere near done with you yet.
His smirk is razor-sharp, dark amusement curling at the corners of his lips as he watches you shatter beneath his touch. But he isn’t satisfied—not yet. No, this is just the prelude, the first scene in a long, unrelenting performance of control and desire.
"You think that’s enough?" His voice is low, velvety, curling around your spine like smoke. "That just saying it once will make me believe you?"
His fingers don’t stop—if anything, they move with more purpose now, curling, pressing against the spot that has you twitching, trembling, your knees weak beneath his relentless grip. You try to catch your breath, try to steady yourself against the wall, but he won’t let you. His free hand snakes around your waist, yanking you closer, crushing you against the solid heat of his body.
"You don’t get to come just because I let you," he murmurs, nipping at the sensitive skin of your throat, leaving marks that bloom under his teeth. "You come when I say. And right now? I don’t think you’ve earned it."
You whimper, a frustrated, desperate sound, and his grin deepens.
"That’s adorable," he chuckles, withdrawing his fingers suddenly—leaving you empty, aching. You make a sound of protest, but he silences you with a bruising kiss, his tongue sliding past your lips, claiming every inch of your mouth with the same ruthless possessiveness he exerts over the rest of you.
"Turn around," he orders against your lips, voice rough with unspoken hunger.
There’s hesitation in the way you move, in the way you glance at him with wide, hazy eyes. He sees it, and it makes something primal flare in his chest. His hand grips your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze.
"Now."
A command, sharp as a blade.
You obey. Of course you do. Because no matter how much you fight, no matter how much you resist, your body already knows who it belongs to.
He presses you against the cold wall, his body flush against yours, his arousal hot and demanding against the small of your back. His hands make quick work of your clothing, pulling, tearing, stripping you of anything that separates him from what’s his.
"You wanted their attention," he growls, one hand fisting in your hair, tugging your head back as his other hand drags down your spine, nails raking over sensitive skin. "Letting them linger too close, letting them think they had a chance."
He laughs, a sound laced with dark amusement.
"They never did. And I’ll make sure they know it."
And then—he’s pressing inside you, slow, unyielding, filling you in a way that has you gasping, clawing at the wall, struggling to take all of him. He groans against your ear, his breath ragged, his control hanging by a thread as your body adjusts around him, gripping him like you were made for him.
"Fuck—" He barely gets the word out before his teeth sink into your shoulder, a possessive, unrelenting mark. "That’s it. Take it. Take what’s mine."
He doesn’t start slow. He doesn’t ease you into it. He sets a brutal pace from the start, dragging you back onto his cock with every thrust, forcing you to feel every inch of him. His grip on your hips is bruising, his fingers digging into your flesh with the kind of desperation that borders on madness.
"Let them hear you," he growls, voice thick with lust. "Let them hear who you belong to."
You try to muffle your moans, but he won’t allow it. His hand slides up, wrapping around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your head spin, to remind you that every breath you take belongs to him.
"You love this," he hisses against your ear, his pace unrelenting. "Being fucked like this. Being ruined like this. Tell me."
You can barely think, barely speak, but he doesn’t let up until you do—until you gasp out the words he’s been waiting for, until you beg him not to stop, until you tell him, over and over again, that you are his. Only his.
And when you finally break again—when pleasure slams into you so violently that your vision whites out—he follows with a groan, spilling inside you, burying himself to the hilt, making sure that even your body remembers who owns it.
He doesn’t pull away immediately. No, he stays there, still inside you, pressing lazy, possessive kisses along the curve of your neck, savoring the way you tremble, the way you sag against the wall, completely wrecked.
"You’re never running from this," he whispers, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk. "Not now. Not ever."
And you believe him.
Because you know, deep down, there is no escape.
You belong to him.
Now, always, forever.
Tumblr media
♡ Mydei.
“Every time they look at you like that, I can’t help but wonder how much I’ll enjoy ripping their eyes out, watching them beg for forgiveness... while you scream my name, knowing you’re already mine.”
He’s watching you again.
Not the casual glance of someone observing from a distance, but the dissecting, scalpel-sharp gaze of a man who intends to understand you down to your barest threads. Mydei’s eyes, an unholy mix of apathy and predation, track your every movement as if cataloging the way your lips part, the delicate tremor of your fingers as you shift uncomfortably under the weight of his stare.
He doesn’t look away, and why would he? You’re the one trespasser in the chaotic web of his mind—an anomaly, a puzzle he has no desire to solve but every intent to shatter and claim as his own.
Jealousy is not a storm with him. It’s a silent poison that seeps through his veins and curdles his usually indifferent demeanor into something sharper. He thrives on control, a man who can reduce enemies to pulp with efficiency and precision, but with you? Oh, with you, the control unravels. It burns like acid behind his ribcage when someone dares to stand too close, when they look at you like you might just save them from the abyss.
They don’t realize you’re already lost. That he has taken you, even if your body hasn’t yet realized it.
There’s something raw about the way he prowls toward you in moments like these—jealousy coiling tightly around his chest. The man you know, or thought you knew, is eclipsed by the darker urges buried beneath his skin. Mydei doesn’t explode, doesn’t shout or rage when the green-eyed beast rears its head. No, he moves with purpose, with silence, with the kind of quiet horror that lets you feel the heavy weight of his presence before you see him appear at your side.
“Who was that?” His voice is low, deceptively calm, a rich baritone that makes your stomach knot. It’s the quietest he’s ever been, and yet it terrifies you more than any outburst.
The words catch in your throat. You don’t know what to say. What could you possibly say to a man who looks at you like he’s starving?
But his hand comes next—cold, rough, and unrelenting. He grips your chin, forcing your face up toward him. “Do you think I don’t see the way you smile at them? That coy little glance? Or are you too naive to understand how that feels? I’ve seen men kill for less, you know.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and there’s something almost clinical about the way he looks at you, as though debating which piece of you to dismantle first.
His thumb strokes your cheek, a grotesque parody of tenderness. You flinch, but his grip only tightens, the faint sting a warning more than a punishment. “Do you know what they’ll see when they look at you tomorrow?” he whispers, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Nothing. Because they won’t have eyes left to look with.”
Your heart lurches, a mixture of fear and... something darker curling low in your stomach. The way he speaks, the way his words weave between violence and possession—it’s intoxicating, horrifying. You should run. You should scream. But the world feels so much smaller in his presence, like you’ve already been swallowed whole.
And oh, he knows it. He can see the way your breath hitches, the shudder that runs through you despite your better instincts. It’s written all over his face—the way he revels in the power he has over you. It’s not enough to take your body, no. Mydei isn’t so simple. He wants to unravel your mind, wants to break you open and piece you back together in the image he’s chosen. He doesn’t just want you; he wants every piece of you to bear his mark.
Later, when the world narrows to just the two of you, his jealousy becomes something more primal. He doesn’t bother hiding the raw need in his movements, the desperation that seeps into the way his fingers trace every inch of your skin. It’s not love. Mydei doesn’t love in the way most men do. His affection is a devouring, brutal force—a hunger that will never be sated, no matter how much of you he consumes.
“You’re mine,” he growls, his voice rough and thick with possession as his hands tighten around your wrists, pinning you beneath him. His weight is suffocating, his touch both cruel and worshipful as though he can’t decide whether to crush you or praise you. “Say it.”
You don’t respond fast enough, and his lips crash against yours, bruising, punishing, and claiming all at once. He pulls back just enough to speak, his breath hot and ragged against your trembling lips. “Say it, or I’ll make you scream it.”
And you do. Because resistance feels pointless, futile against the tidal wave of his dominance. But deep down, there’s a part of you that knows—knows that no amount of pleading will ever be enough to free you from him.
Mydei isn’t the kind of man you escape from. He’s the kind you survive. Or don’t.
———
You never understood how thin the line between love and annihilation could be until he had you beneath him, caged by muscle and rage, his hands branding your wrists against the sheets like iron shackles. Mydei’s jealousy when you're alone with him was not a flickering ember—it was a consuming wildfire, roaring through every synapse of his body, and you were the oxygen feeding it.
“I should kill them,” he muses, as if discussing a minor inconvenience. “Gut them like the useless insects they are. Then, maybe you’d understand.” His grip tightens. “You are mine.”
He didn't just want to own you—he needed to. The thought of another so much as looking at you with hunger, breathing the same air you exhaled, sent a sickness crawling through his veins.
"Say it," his voice was molten, dripping with something darker than fury. A command, not a request. "Who do you belong to?"
Your lips were swollen, bruised from his kiss—if it could even be called that. It had been an assault, a declaration of war, his teeth claiming the softest parts of you as if biting down hard enough would tattoo his name inside your skin. He loomed over you, sweat slicking his broad frame, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. The heat between your thighs was unbearable, a mixture of shame and something primal, something ugly and needy that he had forced out of you.
"Say it," he growled again, fingers tightening around your throat, not enough to cut off air completely—no, Mydei was far too controlled for that—but enough to remind you that every breath you took was his to grant.
The moment your lips parted, even before you could surrender, he was inside you—stretching, splitting, ruining. There was no preparation, no patience. He wasn’t making love to you—he was destroying you, fucking you into something unrecognizable, something only he would ever be able to piece back together. The sharp sting of pain melted into something else, something worse, something addictive. He could see it in your eyes, the betrayal of your own body, how it welcomed him, clenched around him.
"This," he hissed against your ear, his teeth scraping the sensitive shell, "this is what you were made for. No one else will ever—ever—have you like this."
His thrusts were merciless, punishing. Every snap of his hips drove his point deeper than words ever could, carved his jealousy into your bones. There would be no part of you left untouched, unclaimed, unstained by him. You whimpered, and that sound—it sent him into something beyond madness, something feral.
He pressed your knees higher, forcing you open, spreading you wider beneath him, like a sacrificial offering on an altar built for him alone. The wet, obscene noises of skin against skin, the slick heat binding you together—it was filthy, primal, irreversible. His fingers dug into your flesh, nails biting, bruising, marking. Tomorrow, you wouldn’t be able to walk without remembering this moment. You wouldn’t be able to breathe without feeling him still inside you, stretching you, filling you, consuming you.
"You think anyone else could handle this?" His voice was raw, guttural, an animal barely clinging to reason. "You think anyone else could fuck you like this? Break you like this?"
His hand found your throat again, his grip tightening just enough to make your vision blur, to make the pleasure spiral into something terrifyingly exquisite.
"Answer me."
But there was no answer, not really, because Mydei already knew. He already knew there was no escaping him. Not from this. Not from him. Not when your body had already given him the only answer he would ever accept.
"Do you even know what you do to me?" he grits out, teeth catching your lower lip in a punishing bite before his tongue soothes the wound. "How fucking insane you make me?"
He moves like he wants to break you—wants to ruin you for anyone else, to carve himself so deeply inside you that no one would ever dare lay claim. Each thrust is punishing, deep, deliberate, meant to tear you apart and mold you into something that belongs only to him. He watches you through half-lidded eyes, hunger and fury tangled in his gaze, devouring every twitch, every helpless gasp, every slick, messy sound that escapes your lips.
"That's right," he murmurs, voice dangerously soft as he fucks into you, pace unrelenting, cruel. "Take it. Take everything I give you. There won’t be anything left of you when I’m done—nothing but me."
Your body is his altar, his obsession, his sickness, and he worships you in the only way he knows how—with destruction, with unrelenting, all-consuming filth, with the kind of love that tastes like blood and ruin. His jealousy isn't just a fire—it’s an inferno, and you are helpless in the blaze.
His grip tightens until your bones creak, his breath hot and ragged against your ear as he forces you deeper into the mattress. The weight of him is unbearable, a punishment, a claim—his body branding you as his. The jealousy seethes in his every touch, his nails dragging down your thighs, leaving behind angry welts that throb in time with your pulse.
"You think you can look at him and still walk away from this unscathed?" His voice is pure venom, thick with something far darker than anger, something primal, something sick. "Let me remind you, little thing—there’s nowhere to run when I’m inside you."
Your thighs tremble, spread wide by his knee, a cruel display of submission forced upon you. He drags his tongue down your spine, slow, methodical, savoring the way you shudder beneath him. He doesn’t let up, doesn’t slow—this isn’t about pleasure, not yours anyway. It’s about obliteration, about making sure that no part of you remains untouched, unstained by him. His hips snap forward, ruthless and unforgiving, forcing desperate, broken noises from your throat.
"Louder," he commands, yanking your head back by your hair, forcing you to meet his gaze in the dim, suffocating heat. "If you’re going to let someone else’s eyes linger on you, then they might as well know exactly who you belong to."
The stretch of him is unbearable, a brutal ache that borders on pleasure only because he wills it to be. He leans in, his lips ghosting over your cheek, deceptively soft. "Mine," he rasps, voice molten, dangerous. "Say it."
You barely choke out the word before his pace grows merciless again, dragging you deeper into the abyss of his obsession, into the space where only he exists. There is no escape. There never was. And as his fingers dig deeper into your flesh, forcing you to take him, to bear the full brunt of his possessive hunger, you realize—you don’t want to be saved.
Tumblr media
♡ Anaxa.
"Every breath you take around them, every laugh, feels like a knife twisting deeper into me—do you think I won't make you regret it when it's just us, alone in the dark?"
His jealousy was not loud. It was not the kind of tempest that raged in obvious storms or shattered glass in fits of fury. No, Anaxa’s jealousy was the chilling silence that lingered long after the frost had claimed the earth, the quiet certainty of death’s encroaching grip. It was the moment before the blade fell, the breathless tension that promised violence not out of impulse but design.
You didn’t notice at first, not in the way he stared a second too long at the stranger who dared to speak to you with too much familiarity. Nor in the way his hand ghosted over your lower back in public, as though staking a claim in a language no one else could hear. His touch was subtle, his movements measured, but there was an unmistakable weight to them—a promise of ownership, a warning to anyone who thought they could take what belonged to him.
“You think they see you,” he said one evening, his voice soft, almost conversational. You were in the library, the two of you surrounded by tomes that reeked of knowledge and decay. His tone was calm, but his words sliced through the air with surgical precision. “But they don’t. They see an idea, a shadow of who you are. You…you are so much more than that. And they could never comprehend it.”
You didn’t realize he’d moved closer until the chill of his presence seeped into your skin, and when you turned to face him, his expression was unreadable, a mask of control that barely concealed the chaos beneath. His single visible eye gleamed with something darker than anger—something more insidious.
“They don’t deserve your time,” he continued, his gloved hand reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. The gesture was intimate, almost tender, but the slight tremor in his fingertips betrayed him. “They don’t deserve your mind. Or your body.” The last word lingered on his tongue like a forbidden prayer, dripping with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine.
His jealousy festered in the quiet moments, growing like a parasite that fed on every glance you shared with someone else, every smile that wasn’t meant for him. He never confronted you outright, never demanded explanations. Instead, he made himself a shadow, watching, waiting, calculating. The conversations you had with others became ammunition for his obsession, every laugh, every fleeting touch another thread in the intricate web he wove around you.
And then came the night he snapped—not in an outburst of rage, but in the kind of madness that only someone like Anaxa could embody. It was after a gathering, one where you’d spoken too freely, laughed too brightly, and lingered too long near someone else. You returned to your quarters to find him waiting, his silhouette a dark smear against the dim glow of the room.
“You looked…happy tonight,” he said, his voice devoid of warmth. His eye locked onto yours, unblinking, as he stepped closer. “It’s rare to see you like that. I wonder…was it them? Did they make you smile like that?”
Before you could answer, he was on you, his hand curling around your wrist with a force that bordered on painful. His touch was cold, his grip unrelenting, and yet there was an eerie calm to him, as though every movement had been rehearsed in his mind a thousand times.
“I’ve been patient,” he whispered, his breath ghosting over your ear as he pulled you closer. “I’ve given you freedom. Space. And yet…you still stray.” His lips brushed against your neck, a featherlight touch that sent a jolt of fear and something darker coursing through you. “Do you know what that does to me?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he pressed you against the wall, his body a cage that left no room for escape. His hands roamed over you with a desperation that felt like possession, each touch a claim, each kiss a brand. “You’re mine,” he murmured against your skin, his voice trembling with a mixture of anger and longing. “You’ve always been mine. And if I have to remind you, I will.”
His jealousy was not an explosion—it was a slow, suffocating burn, a fire that consumed everything in its path until there was nothing left but ash. He didn’t just want your love; he wanted your submission, your surrender. He wanted every piece of you, mind and body, stripped bare and laid at his feet. And in the moments where his control slipped, where his hunger overpowered his reason, you saw the depth of his madness—the lengths he would go to keep you, to ensure that no one else could ever take you from him.
“You don’t understand,” he said once, his voice breaking as his hands framed your face, forcing you to look at him. “You can’t understand. I’ve seen the end, the void that waits for all of us. And you…you’re the only thing that keeps me tethered to this world.” His lips found yours then, harsh and unyielding, a clash of desperation and desire that left you gasping for air.
And as the night stretched on, as his jealousy consumed you both, you realized that there was no escaping him. Not because he wouldn’t let you—but because a part of you, the part he had meticulously broken and rebuilt in his image, didn’t want to leave.
———
"You can run, but you won’t get far."
Anaxa’s voice is a razor against your skin, soft, deliberate, laced with the kind of quiet promise that sends a shiver straight through you.
You should have known better.
You should have never let that stranger’s hand linger too long on your wrist, should have never let their voice settle too comfortably in your ears. Because he saw. He always sees.
And now, you’re here—pinned, bound, trapped—back arched against the cold surface of his desk, the scent of parchment and candle wax thick in the air, nearly drowned out by the heat radiating from him.
"You really don’t understand what you’ve done, do you?" His single visible eye gleams in the dim light, hunger and fury warring beneath the surface as his gloved fingers trail down your throat, pressing just enough to make your breath hitch. "You give your attention so freely—laughing, touching, tempting—as if you aren’t already mine."
His hands are cruel, teasing, gliding lower, parting your thighs without hesitation, without permission—because you have no permission to give. You belong to him. Your body, your pleasure, your very breath—it’s all his.
And he’s going to remind you.
A sharp, punishing slap lands between your legs, sending a jolt of pleasure-laced pain through your entire body. You whimper, your back arching instinctively, but it only makes him laugh—a dark, mocking sound that vibrates against your throat as he presses his lips there, kissing, biting, branding you with his teeth.
"Look at you," he murmurs, voice rough with barely restrained lust. "Falling apart already. And I haven’t even begun."
His fingers plunge into you, spreading, stretching, as his other hand tightens its grip on your throat. Slow, merciless, unrelenting.
"You don’t deserve my patience," he breathes, lips dragging down your chest, teeth scraping, biting, marking. "You deserve to be ruined."
And he does.
He takes everything—drags his gloved fingers through your slickness, spreading it, smearing it across your thighs like proof of your surrender. When he replaces them with his tongue, his mouth is just as vicious, lips and teeth working in perfect cruelty, leaving you writhing beneath him, desperate, needy.
But Anaxa doesn’t let you fall so easily.
No, he stops—pulls back just enough to make you feel the loss, to leave you shaking and ruined, right at the edge of oblivion.
"You want to come?" he taunts, voice like silk, wicked and knowing. His gloved fingers ghost over your soaked heat, but never give you what you need. "Then beg."
Your pride wants to resist—but you can’t.
Not when he’s watching you like this, eyes dark with amusement and pure, unfiltered ownership. Not when his knee is pressing between your legs, forcing you open, forcing you to want.
So you break. Of course you break.
"Please," you whisper, voice barely above a breath. "Please—please, I need—"
The sharpest, filthiest grin spreads across his lips.
"Oh, sweetheart," he coos, dragging his fingers achingly slow over your sensitive, desperate heat. "You need? Be more specific, my dear."
His hands move suddenly—gripping your thighs, flipping you over, pressing your chest against the desk.
"Then take it."
There’s no more patience. No more teasing.
Anaxa buries himself inside you, one sharp, punishing thrust that sends your breath shattering into a cry. Stretching you, filling you, claiming you.
"You feel that?" he growls, his gloved hand fisting in your hair, yanking your head back as his hips snap against you, relentless, ruthless, unforgiving. "That’s me. That’s mine. Every inch of you—mine."
And he doesn’t stop.
Not when you gasp his name, not when you clench around him so tightly he groans, not even when your body trembles beneath him, overwhelmed and wrecked beyond recognition.
He pounds into you with a fury that is both punishment and devotion, his gloved fingers finding your throat again, his other hand slipping lower, rubbing circles against your swollen, aching clit, forcing you into pleasure so unbearable it borders on pain.
"You think anyone else could take you like this?" His voice is breathless, hungry, filled with something dark and twistedly reverent. "You think they could break you like I do? Make you scream for them like this?"
The coil inside you snaps so violently that your legs nearly give out. But he doesn’t let you fall—he holds you, forces you through it, fucking you through the aftershocks, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure until you’re nothing but a shaking, ruined mess beneath him.
And still—still—he doesn’t let go.
His lips find your ear, whispering the last thing you’ll ever need to know.
"This is what you wanted, isn’t it?"
He smirks when you don’t answer—when you can’t answer.
And then, with a slow, devastating thrust that makes your entire body shudder, he growls—
"Say it."
After all, that was all you were trained to do, lest he punish you once more.
Tumblr media
♡ Phainon.
"Every time you smile at someone else, I feel the urge to ruin you—piece by piece—until you understand that no one else can make you feel what I do, not even close."
Phainon had always been the portrait of refinement. His words, smooth and calculated, dripped with an almost divine grace that made those around him lean in just to catch every syllable. He carried himself like a savior—a self-anointed guardian of the universe, an eternal being who bore the weight of countless lives with a smile as serene as the still surface of a poisoned lake.
But beneath the godlike composure lurked something darker, something jagged and unyielding. He had perfected the art of patience, of wearing his charisma like armor, yet when it came to you, his façade cracked, if only slightly. The thought of you—his delicate, radiant, fragile little mortal—turning your attention to anyone else was an aberration he couldn’t tolerate. It made his carefully constructed calm unravel, one golden thread at a time. And for someone like Phainon, unraveling wasn’t a descent into chaos. No, it was a meticulous, deliberate destruction of anything—or anyone—that dared to take you from him.
Today, it had been a smile. A brief, fleeting smile you had offered to another—an insignificant flicker of kindness you likely thought nothing of. But to Phainon, that smile was a betrayal. His, his, his. It was supposed to be his privilege, his right, to see that softness, that vulnerability. And now, someone else had stolen what was his by design.
He didn’t confront you immediately. That would have been too simple, too crude. No, Phainon preferred to let his fury simmer, curling and twisting inside him until it became something potent enough to wield. You didn’t even notice the subtle shift in his demeanor when he approached you later that evening. His smile was as warm as ever, his blue eyes alight with something you mistook for affection.
But then the door clicked shut, and the lock twisted into place. The sound echoed in the room, sharp and deliberate, and when you turned to face him, the air between you was heavy, suffocating. He wasn’t smiling anymore.
“You’ve been very... lively today,” he began, his voice smooth and measured, each word carefully chosen. His tall frame cast a long shadow over you as he stepped closer, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. “That sparkle in your eyes—it’s lovely. Was it him who put it there?”
Your stomach dropped, and you took a cautious step back, but the corner of the table stopped you. His gaze pinned you in place, unwavering, and there was no mistaking the steel behind his gentle tone.
“I wonder what you said to him,” he mused, his head tilting slightly as if he were genuinely curious. “What could possibly have made you smile like that? Did he compliment you? Make you laugh? Or perhaps... did he touch you?” The last question came out softer, but it hit you like a slap, the weight of it heavy with accusation.
“I didn’t—” you started, but the words faltered under his piercing stare.
“Did I ask for excuses?” he interrupted, his voice still maddeningly calm. His hand reached out, his fingers brushing against your jaw, tilting your face upward so you couldn’t avoid his gaze. His touch was gentle, almost tender, but the intensity in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine. “You’re avoiding the question, my dear. And you know how much I hate being ignored.”
The grip on your chin tightened—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you of the strength behind it, the strength he could so easily unleash if he wanted to. “You think I don’t see it? The way you invite attention without even realizing it. You make it so easy for them to believe they have a chance with you, don’t you?” His tone was still calm, but there was a dangerous edge to it now, a simmering anger barely contained beneath the surface.
When you tried to pull away, he let you, only to catch your wrist in a vice-like grip a moment later. His smile returned, but it was sharp and humorless, his blue eyes glowing faintly as the room seemed to grow colder. “Ah, there it is,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over the pulse point in your wrist, feeling the frantic beat of your heart. “That fear. That delicious, exquisite fear. You know, I envy it—because it means you still have something left to lose. But don’t worry, my darling. I’ll take it all away soon enough.”
He pulled you closer, his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You don’t understand, do you? You’re mine. Every thought, every breath, every inch of your soul—it all belongs to me. And I’ll make sure you never forget it.”
Before you could respond, his lips descended on yours in a kiss that stole the air from your lungs. It wasn’t soft or tender—it was a claim, a punishment, a reminder of his dominance. His hands roamed your body with a possessiveness that left no room for argument, as if he were mapping every inch of you, ensuring there was no part of you he hadn’t claimed.
When he pulled back, his breath was ragged, his eyes dark with an unholy mixture of desire and madness. “You’ll stay with me,” he murmured, his forehead pressed against yours. “Not because you want to, but because you have no other choice. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll shatter every door, burn every bridge, destroy every hope you have of escaping me. And when there’s nothing left, you’ll see that you were always meant to be mine.”
———
The weight of his body pressed you down, his breath hot against your ear, the shuddering exhale betraying restraint he was seconds from shattering. His fingers, calloused from years of wielding his claymore, dragged down your spine with aching deliberation, savoring the way you trembled beneath him. "Mine," he whispered, the syllable drawn out like a prayer, or a curse.
His breath is ragged, hot, his lips ghosting over your jaw, your throat, your parted lips—but never quite kissing you, never giving you what you want. His control is slipping, unraveling, but still, he wants to hear you beg.
"Say it again."
His voice is a growl, deep, guttural, animalistic in its need. His fingers tighten around your wrists, pinning them above your head, his other hand crushing your thigh apart, forcing you open, making sure there is nowhere for you to run.
"Tell me who you belong to."
Your breath shudders, your mind blank, drowning in the heat, the pressure, the pure ownership of his touch.
"You," you gasp, barely able to form the word. But it’s not enough.
"Not like that." His teeth scrape against your throat, biting down, sucking bruises into your skin, a mark of possession so deep it will never fade. "Say it like you mean it. Say it like you understand what I’m about to do to you."
You whimper, writhe, your thighs trembling as he grinds against you, slow, devastating, teasing you with the thickness of his cock, with the unbearable pressure that makes you ache, makes you burn, makes you lose every last ounce of shame.
"Phainon," you plead, desperate, mindless, completely ruined.
And that’s when he snaps.
His fingers thread into your hair, yanking your head back, exposing your throat to his teeth as he slams into you, all at once, stretching you, forcing you to take him, forcing your body to mold around him.
The force of it steals the air from your lungs.
A strangled, broken cry escapes you, but he doesn’t slow, doesn’t give you a moment to adjust. No, he drives himself into you, deeper, harder, merciless, relentless, so fucking big it feels like he’s splitting you apart, ruining you, reshaping you into something that can only ever belong to him.
"Mine," he growls, his voice shaking with need, with pure possession. His hand wraps around your throat, not squeezing, just feeling the way your pulse races beneath his fingers. "Do you feel that?" His hips snap forward, forcing you to take every inch, burying himself inside you so deep it makes your toes curl.
You can’t speak. You can’t breathe.
"You were made for this," he whispers, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. "Made for me."
There was nothing gentle in the way he claimed you. His grip on your wrists was bruising, pinned tightly above your head as his mouth descended upon you, ravenous, unyielding. He bit down on your throat, leaving marks that would never truly fade, his tongue following in their wake, soothing, as if apologizing for the possessive violence of his touch. But you knew better. There was no regret in him—only hunger, only the furious need to carve himself into your very being, to make you feel him in the marrow of your bones.
Each thrust was punishing, measured, tearing gasps from your throat as your body burned beneath his. The air between you was thick with heat, with the scent of sweat and something darker—something raw and desperate. His name spilled from your lips, but that wasn’t enough for him. His fingers found your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze, eyes dark with obsession. "Say it again," he demanded, his voice rough, shaking with the effort of holding himself together. "Tell me who you belong to."
You barely had the breath to respond, but the moment you did, he rewarded you with something deeper, something harsher, his pace quickening until the world around you blurred into nothing but him. His teeth raked across your skin, his hand slipping between your thighs, drawing out cries he swallowed with his mouth, feeding off the way you unraveled beneath him.
His hand slips between your thighs, fingers finding that sensitive, swollen place, rubbing in slow, teasing circles. The contrast is unbearable—his brutal pace, the gentleness of his touch.
His grip tightens as his pace picks up, brutal, overwhelming, devastating. Every thrust pushes you higher, higher, spiraling toward ruin, your body completely at his mercy, his cock dragging against the deepest parts of you, pushing you into a haze of pleasure so sharp it borders on pain.
"You like this, don’t you?" he taunts, breathless, wrecked, but still in control. "Being fucked like this—pinned down, stretched open, completely owned. Tell me."
"Yes," you sob, your body trembling, clenching around him, dragging a low, broken groan from his lips.
That’s all he needs.
With a harsh, guttural curse, his pace turns punishing, primal, fucking you like he wants to break you, like he wants to carve himself so deep inside you that no one else will ever reach you again.
"Say my name," he demands, his voice a low snarl, his hand slipping down, rubbing you faster, harder, forcing you closer to the edge.
You scream it.
And then you shatter.
Your entire body locks up, pleasure slamming into you so hard it steals the air from your lungs, dragging you under, drowning you in a release so intense it borders on agony.
But he doesn’t stop.
No—he rides you through it, chasing his own pleasure, his rhythm stuttering as he loses himself, burying himself as deep as he can go, groaning your name like a prayer as he spills inside you, claiming you in the filthiest, most undeniable way possible.
But it wasn’t enough.
It would never be enough.
Your world is reduced to the weight of him, the sheer power caging you against the bed, against the force of his body, against the raw, overwhelming intensity of Phainon’s hunger.
His grip tightened as he drove himself deeper, chasing that place inside you where pleasure curled dangerously close to pain. "No one else will ever touch you like this," he murmured, a promise, a warning, punctuated by another thrust that left you gasping. "No one else will ever have you the way I do."
The weight of him collapses over you, his breath hot, ragged, his lips pressing against your sweat-damp skin, murmuring something—something possessive, something final.
"You’ll never leave me."
A promise.
A threat.
A fucking vow.
────────────
If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. Thank you.
General TAG LIST of “Forbidden Fruits”: @uniquecutie-puffs , @belovedoftheanemoarchon , @tnsophiaonly , @mokingbrd78k , @cooldeermagazine , @mimitk , @xileonaaaa , @acacia-koi , @purple-obsidian , @waterfal-ling , @jjune-07 , @jsprien213 , @crimson-kisses , @tinandabin , @sashakittycloud , @songbirdgardensworld , @monamuskay
❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.
♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2 [you are here]. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. ♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams.
806 notes · View notes
kcrossvine-art · 11 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Hi fellow adventurers!! A few weeks ago i caught wind of "Delicious in Dungeon". I'm not really an anime person, but I am a TTRPG, CRPG, and cooking person- . And holy shit. It is so good i  convinced my partner to binge read the whole thing. I'm caught up on dungeon meshi, the anime, and just yesterday i also finished dungeon meshi, the manga.
Its rare to come across a serialized story that is so thematically cohesive and knows its characters so well. All of the bonus content like the artbooks and monster tidbits are just the icing on top.
So, inspired by Ryōko Kui's writing and illustration I'm going to attempt to create a recipe for every single Delicious in Dungeon recipe!-
Today that means Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom hotpot is on the menu!
(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)
MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS
SO, “what goes in to a Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom hotpot?” YOU MIGHT ASKThis is one of the pricier dishes until we get to the kelpies and dragons of the menu-
Rock lobster tail
Porcini mushrooms
Shiitake mushrooms
Snow fungus
Small potatos
Fensi (glass noodles)
Water
OPTIONAL: your choice of dipping sauces
There was a crossover/promotional event in Shibuya which featured various realworld dishes from the series. They had one for Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom, but they used prawns.  while those cook better in a hotpot, they also didn't look enough like the scorpion for me, they also used udon noodles for the slime and a seaweed/kale(?) mixture for the algae. If you're looking for substitutes due to price or availability i would start with those ingredients.
AND, “what does a Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom hotpot taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKI hope Senshi would forgive me for technically cooking the lobster outside the pot, once he tastes it.
Okay im always partial to veggies but wowowowowowowoowowowow the snow fungus and the mushrooms tasted soooooooooooo good in the lobster stock
A nice delicate layering of different flavors
Try to get a bite with the lobster meat and shiitake together, dip in butter then chili- trust me
Its up to you what texture you prefer if you want to put the noodles in at the end or put them in halfway through the meal. Either way dont go for eating those first as theyre very filling
I think this would pair well with a citrus drink, something light and clarifying
This would also pair well with being extremely high and hungry (if you feel safe cooking while inebriated lol) very calorically dense
For the trial run I did one lobster tail in the pot with everything else, and one lobster tail off to the side to be picked apart. The former is more in spirit with a hotpot, but it got rubbery as the meal went on and lost its nice taste. The latter may be a bit more work but all you have to do still is boil it and set it aside. I found it held up much better. It was also easier to get inside the shell.
. If you have hardshell maine lobster available, i think it would be superior to rock lobster (keep in mind crustaceans will get rubbery if cooked too long in the pot) . Green onions and/or lotus root would make excellent additions
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From getting the ingredients out to sitting down and eating, id say it took maybe 30 minutes max? It'd vary on how fast you can prep vegetables and get the various implements heated.
Hotpots are not something i do very often as i'm usually just feeding myself. I think thats why a hotpot makes perfect sense to start the series off. If you want to set the tone of "take care of yourself, eat food with others, and use what you have" (generally speaking) there is nothing more simplistic, flexible, and defeats-the-purpose-if-you-eat-it-alone than a hotpot. Gather around and let your friends bring ingredients to the pot if you want to fill your heart up extra full <3
I'm doing something different here because unlike previous recipes where i used a bunch of different sources and made my own recipe out of hodge-podging it, or just used another persons recipe entirely if they did it really well, i made this more whole-cloth based off of what i had available, what I could discover through research, and my existing knowledge. Instead of the recipe being 50/50 original, this one is more 20/80. So. I'll pass the final verdict off to you guys :D 
What would you rate this recipe out of 10? (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) Did you love it, did you hate it? What're your thoughts on what I could do different, and what would you have done instead?
🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁
Ingredients:
2 Rock lobster tails
3 Porcini mushrooms
2 Shiitake mushrooms
Snow fungus (a good handful, should rehydrate in the hotpot)
2 Small waxy potatos
Fensi (glass noodles)
Water/lobster stock
Method:
Lightly rinse all of your vegetables beforehand and let them dry.
Vertically slice the porcini mushrooms. Cut off and dice the stems of the shiitake mushrooms. You can slice the tops if youd like.
Peel and cube the potatoes, roughly an inch each.
For the lobster tails; Boil a pot of salted water. Keep the shell on. Weigh the largest tail and add 1 minute of cooking time for every ounce of weight.
When done, strain the lobster from the water. Pour the water into your hotpot as the base. Serve the lobster on the side so people can pick the meat out to dip into the hotpot.
Bring the hotpot to a simmer. Add the potato cubes, snow fungus, mushrooms, and noodles.
OPTIONAL: this wasnt in the show, but its fun having sauces on the side :) i had oyster sauce, dry seasoned chili dip, melted butter, and soy sauce available
1K notes · View notes
fuckyeahgoodomens · 8 months ago
Text
Good Omens graphic novel update: June 2024
Welcome to the June update. A lot of behind the scenes work at the moment but we're grabbing the travel sweets, popping in the Bentley and hitting the road. More on that below.
Admin
Ongoing reminder that the project FAQ can be found here. 
I pledged using my Apple ID, or no longer use the address my pledge is attached to, or I cannot work out what email address my pledge is connected to. What should I do? Please contact us via your Kickstarter account where the pledge is connected; we will be able to see on our system which address it is. If it's one you have access to, great! The FAQ has information on how to resend your invite link to access the PledgeManager. If it's one you are not able to access, then you can let us know which email is preferred and we can update this on the system, which will automatically send a new invite.
Events
We've had a lot of queries about when the Good Omens team will be attending events more formally, after some Aziraphale and Crowley spotting at conventions we'd been to previously. Well, we're excited to confirm the first: Good Omens HQ will be at ACME Comic Con in Glasgow, Scotland this September.
Tumblr media
We'll be bringing the actual-real-life-home-to-Crowley-and-his-plants Bentley from Season 2 of Good Omens, the first time the car has been made available publicly for fans to come see and get photos with, ahead of its journey back to the set and the start of Season 3 filming.
We also see Quelin Sepulveda, aka Muriel, has been announced for the event for some additional ineffable joy.
You can get your tickets for ACME Comic Con here. We hope to see some of you there.
Tumblr media
While we won't be rocking up with the Bentley to this next one, we want to let you know about Ineffable Con which, though sold out in person, is also taking place virtually in July. The fan-run event hosts great panels, auctions and more, with money raised going to Alzheimer’s Research UK, in memory of Sir Terry Pratchett.
Where next? We have - not an exaggeration - a list of about 200 events somewhere from when we asked fans this on Instagram and while we can't promise quite that amount of convention attendance, we're certainly looking to do some more things in future with Good Omens at large. Watch this space.  
Good Omens items...
This month has largely seen prototypes and samples for the wider Good Omens merch store arriving, and while we can't share those yet, we are certainly excited to see more fan product suggestions coming to life. That does, however, leave our public item updates a little slim on the ground.
To make up for that, here's some new panels from Colleen:
Tumblr media
Also known as, "What could possibly go wrong?" And:
Tumblr media
Also known as, "Well why don't you ▇▇▇ ▇▇▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇ ▇▇!@#▇" or words to that effect, we'd imagine.  
Update from Colleen
Following such a positive response to Colleen's piece last month, bringing you behind the scenes into making the Good Omens graphic novel, we are delighted to say that she has agreed to write something for our updates going forward! For June, she's going more in depth into the process of flatting and the technicalities of colouring on screen vs print. Over to you, Colleen.
---
I mentioned the other month that I use a flatter to help me with technical work on GOOD OMENS, and here is a great example.
This is my original, hand drawn line art.
Tumblr media
And this is the flatting file which was created using the MultiFill computer program.
Tumblr media
It will put your eyes out.
The raw image above demonstrates how the color art lines up solidly under the line art. If it doesn't do that, you get a weird phenomenon in print called ghosting, a tiny little line of white around each segment of color. I had this issue on one major project and ended up redoing every single color file after I got a look at the first printing. Nearly two weeks of work.
The same image with the line art on top.
Tumblr media
The layer order looks like this.
Tumblr media
Background copy is the clean, line art layer.
I scan the art at 600 dpi, then make the blacks pure black, the whites pure white. Then I convert back to greyscale, then RGB, then duplicate the layer. Then I delete the white on the upper layer so the line art layer is transparent but the blacks on that layer are not.
If you have blacks on a layer that has been multiplied, you can see slight color through those blacks. You want pure black.
The lower layer is where I use the MultiFill program to create the digital flats. First you use MultiFill to drop in the random colors, then the companion plug-in Flatter Pro to make those colors seal under the black lines.
This probably sounds like a silly thing to worry about, but if the flat colors don’t line up perfectly under the black line art, you get the dreaded ghosting I mentioned. You can see it below in this image. It’s a tiny little white line that will appear around the black lines and color areas.
Tumblr media
This drives me nuts and is an absolute nightmare to fix.
It’s a very common problem, especially for people who work for web and don’t anticipate the problems going from web to print.
What looks great on your computer can cause big problems in print.
From here, my flatter Jul Mae Kristoffer, who is way over in the Philippines, does flatting that is more in keeping with the areas of color I want to isolate. As you see on Layer 1.
Tumblr media
But again, this is still pretty ugly, and not what I would use for final color. Flatting is a technical issue, not a creative one, though in some cases a flatter will make choices you may use. Most of the time they don't.
Here is my final color page.
Tumblr media
Sometimes my MultiFill flats are so wonky I have a hard time getting my brain to snap out of what I see before me. If I get stuck, it's a good idea to just pick at it and come back to it later.
If it really, really bothers me, I’ll take the MultiFill flatter layer and desaturate the color so it doesn’t poke my eyes out.
Here’s an example. The digital flat file.
Tumblr media
The desaturated flat file that doesn’t make me want to poke my eyes out.
Tumblr media
And the final color.
Tumblr media
Sometimes I just put in a solid white layer so I don’t see the flats at all. Flatting is there to allow you to easily pick spots to color in, and doesn’t usually appear in the final work.
Sometimes I want to create my colors using transparent color over a white ground, which is more delicate in the final.
Here’s an example from Neil Gaiman’s American Gods. I also selected all black line art here and converted it to sepia to give it a vintage look. Except for the fairies. They’re green.
Tumblr media
A colorist must also consider color settings.
Different clients can have different requirements. I find these color settings, which I got from the Hi-Fi Studio, to be pretty solid. I use them as my default for all my projects unless otherwise requested. If your publisher has other settings, they’ll usually send you a csf file which you can upload to Photoshop. The program will save your files and you can just switch between them as you need them.
Tumblr media
This tells the printer things about the paper and the spread of the ink you will use. That’s what dot gain means - it makes printed color look darker than intended, so you set up your files to account for it.
When you hover your pointer over each box, it will tell you what each setting is supposed to accomplish.
Another really important thing to consider when coloring comics is color range.
I’m coloring this book in RGB range, but for print you use CMYK.
I’m about to confuse the heck out of some people with this post, I’m afraid. But here we go.
Here is this shot in RGB color setting.
Tumblr media
And here is the same page calibrated for print in CMYK.
Tumblr media
The biggest shift is in the reds. Print cannot match those reds.
You may not see much difference here, but it’s the sort of thing that drives artists crazy.
A computer should be perfect for conveying exactly what you want, right? It's all just 0's and 1's, binary information, and that information should be the same from one computer to the next?
Nope. Not even close.
First off, computer monitors must be calibrated. You can use a computer program or a tool that measures the color on your computer screen and then adjusts the color to an industry standard.
Have you ever been in an electronics shop where a bunch of TV shows were on display, all of them playing the same show, and have you noticed how different the color was from one TV to the next?
It's like that.
I freely admit I don't pay a whole lot of attention to calibration, but if I were a professional photographer I would. I'd have a little spectrometer attached to my screen and software would adjust my monitor to the best possible standard range. As it is, I just use the default setting on my computer and hope for the best.
If your monitor is properly calibrated and your art is shown on another monitor that is properly calibrated, the art will look almost identical from one monitor to the next.
YAY!
But from one monitor to the next, that's about where the resemblance ends.
Colors are calibrated to something called RGB, or Red, Green, Blue.
All colors come from a mix of red green and blue. At their greatest intensity, all the colors in the spectrum together become pure white light.
This is why RGB is called ADDITIVE color, because you ADD colors from the spectrum to get ALL colors, and all colors create the entirety of the rainbow, and pure white light.
Your computer monitor, your phone, your television, all images are created via light using RGB, a gamut that covers all possible colors that can be created.
That's a lot.
And that's why some of the colors you see on your TV or phone are so deep and intense.
For the widest possible range of color and intensity, you use RGB.
Unfortunately, there is what you can create with light, and then there is what you can create with pigment or ink. And that is why printing what you see on your computer almost never looks exactly like what you see in a book.
Tumblr media
For printing, you must use a color setting known as CMYK. This stands for Cyan, Magenta, Yellow and Key/Black.
In printing, the pure blue is actually Cyan and the pure red is actually Magenta.
CMYK color range is not created by addition, but by SUBTRACTION. In order to get the color you want, you reduce the percentage of one of the four colors for ink mixing. Mixing all colors, instead of giving you white, gives you black.
The gamut of CMYK is limited to what can be created with ink.
You've probably heard the term four color press? This is what that means. Four colors, with each color of ink run over the paper on rollers which, combined in varying layers of opacity, create all the printing colors you see.
But remember, what you see on your computer monitor and what CMYK gamut can handle are two different things.
Now, I’ve been really careful with the color settings on Good Omens, so there haven’t been any big surprises, but let me show you a snippet of a project I did for the French fashion house Balmain.
The RGB version:
Tumblr media
And then this shot after it was converted to a CMYK file for print.
Tumblr media
That's a pretty big difference.
Now, you see this shift mostly with vibrant colors, such as that pink there. But other colors hardly changed at all, right?
That's because this issue is about range of color. CMYK and RGB occupy a shared range which you can see demonstrated by this graphic I got from Wikipedia.
Tumblr media
The graphic shows the RGB ranges supported by various digital formats. SWOP CMYK is the most common range my publishers use. Note that the bounding box line shared by the RGB and SWOP CMYK formats shares about half the range space. So whatever RGB colors you use that are outside that range will be digitally converted to the smaller SWOP CMYK range.
And you may not like what you end up with.
As you can see, some of the most ethereal and intense colors get lost outside of the SWOP CMYK boundary.
A look at the Dark Horse Comics color settings in Photoshop. Theoretically, this information should prevent your art from looking like mud on publication.
Tumblr media
Now, after I just told you the dangers of coloring in RGB then converting to CMYK for print, I tell you I am coloring Good Omens in RGB anyway. There’s a couple of reasons for this.
Remember, RGB give you a greater range of color, so it can be to your advantage to preserve your original files using a format that gives you the greatest range.
Again, here is the unaltered file.
Tumblr media
You can see what the CMYK result will be simply by clicking the Proof Colors button here. This will show you how the art will convert.
Tumblr media
And the Gamut Warning will show you which colors are out of gamut range for print.
Tumblr media
The intensity of that magenta and that purple in the top right are not going to print true.
This is how it will look in final.
Tumblr media
So even if you do what you think is perfect color on screen, there is no way it can perfectly convert to print. Almost everything will involve a little bit of compromise.
Even though you have to consider the color shift issues, preserving your files in RGB gives you greater wiggle room, especially if you get lucky someday and get to work with a printer who can print in 6 colors. Or maybe some technology you don’t know about will pop up and make printing super glorious. Who knows.
Regardless, you should keep an eye on that gamut and color for CMYK print, while preserving your master files in RGB.
Until next time.
848 notes · View notes
huginsmemory · 6 months ago
Text
On ad astra per aspera ✨
Tumblr media
Can we talk about the repeated use of ad astra per aspera? Cause uhhhh it shows up twice, once on the website and once in the Book of Bill, and OH BOY this has connotations, both for Bill and Ford's relation in the literal and figurative meaning on the word, and for Bill's own history:
(extra addition added 16/09/2024! 🌝 )
First, in the website (if I recall correctly) if the phrase ad astra per aspera is inputted into the computer, you get the two pages on Bill's 'funeral':
Tumblr media Tumblr media
And within, in the pages, at the very end before signing there names is the phrase itself (highlighted in red) .
Secondly, a joke version of it is seen in the Book Of Bill, specifically on the night where Bill and Ford fucked 'one thing led to another':
Tumblr media
In this one, it's clearly a joke off of aspirin used for his hangover, used again to close the entry.
Now the phrase ad astra per aspera itself means 'through suffering to the stars', which also has... wider connotations then just these two piece alone, which I'll unpack later. But first, the interesting choice of connection of these two pieces;
Both times the phrases occur, they occur closing the entry; a bit too much of a coincidence to me (and in this fandom there is no such thing as a coincidence). Considering that the 'one thing led to another' night is a night that was important to their relationship as it hints at the intimacy they had with each other, it showing up again in Ford's 'funeral' entry about Bill feels very much like an allusion to that night. Especially considering in the funeral entry Ford is very open about how much he cared about Bill, with how he at one point "considered him the centre of his life". The entry from Ford reads as someone who is moving on, and part of this is acknowledgement of the grief and sadness for the more positive part of the abusive relationship that he lost. As a result, having him acknowledge the intimacy of their relationship, it makes sense for him to tongue in cheek allude back to his first writing down of the phrase, where they were quite clearly implied to fuck be intimate.
While it alludes to their Bill and Ford's intimacy, the literal and metaphorical meaning of the phrase also rings true here; through suffering to the stars. If we talk literally, then through Ford's relationship with Bill, something that ultimately was full of suffering, he built the portal, and ended up wandering the myriad worlds out there in space; one may say out there among the stars. He literally was out there wandering the stars as a result of suffering.
Now metaphorically, the phrase means through suffering/adversity one gains beautiful/worthwhile things. Considering this entry is Ford moving on from Bill, this is very apt; again, their relationship caused Ford immense suffering, and as he is now letting that relationship and suffering go, he's instead prioritizing creating healthy relationships with Stanley, the other twins and Fiddleford (the something beautiful and worthwhile part!). In fact, the entry on Bill's funeral is half on him strengthening his relationship with Mabel, the shooting star, another layer of wordplay; case in point about the healthy relationships. He's weathered through his abusive relationship, to discover and create a loving family.
It doesn't quite end there however; although that's fairly it for specifically Ford and Bill's relationship, we also haven't talked about what the stars mean to Bill himself. Which, well; it's very clearly implied that Bill accidentally killed everyone in his dimension in an attempt to show his parents (and other people in his dimension) the stars. And on top of that, to quote; "I looked up and saw the stars. And I was ready to become one of them". Which he then in a way, becomes, considering the page in journal 3 on constellations, in which Ford remarks that one of his favourite constellations is the constellation 'William' (obviously Bill). It's a bittersweet immortalization of himself after everything that occurs around trying to see the stars for Bill.
Tumblr media
So I find it very interesting that for Ford, a phrase about suffering and stars is something he ends up correlating to his relationship with Bill, considering that to Bill, to get to the stars is something he deeply suffered for as a result. It's also important to note that Bill's suffering was something that occurred out of love, and ultimately an attempt to be understood and create a deeper relationship with his parents where they could trust him. And then for Ford, all this while later, to look up to the stars (to see them) and to see the Bill constellation and go 'oh that's one of my favourites' is fulfillment. Because Ford during that time trusted and cared deeply for Bill, fulfilling that relationship of trust, love and understanding(at least surface level, considering the way they banter together), that Bill had yearned for when he was younger and killed his plane.
So all in all(tldr): ad aspera per astra, (through suffering the stars), is quite the fun phrase to unpack in regards to Bill and Ford's relationship, considering the deliberate reference to the phrase on the entry about the night 'where one thing led to another' and Bill's funeral entry. The phrase is a combination of references; tongue in cheek allusion to the intimacy, but also references to the literal (space fugitive) and figurative (abusive relationship, to loving family again pipeline) hardships Ford endured as a result of the relationship. There is also irony in the way that Ford seems to correlate this phrase about suffering and stars with Bill and his relationship, considering that out of an effort to be understood and share the stars with his parents, Bill accidentally killed his whole dimension; later he also made a constellation of himself. As well, as Ford says that one of his favourite constellations is a constellation that's clearly Bill in Journal 3, it alludes to that Bill's wish to show his parents the stars and be recognized is fulfilled by Ford (pre-portal incident that is).
EDIT: extra details added on the constellation piece as of Aug 14 2024 (less than 24 hours after og posting, because I'm deranged). Big thanks to @bowl-o-nudel for the nudge :)
Edit (16/09/2024): I've had a few people say that the saying has appeared in Journal 3 multiple times, and having reread journal 3, to my delight it is indeed correct! And oh the CONTEXT they give. The two instances are those seem below; the first appearance in the title page of Journal 3, and second time is a page from when the twins graduate.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
As well as all the parallels of how the phrase is applied for both Bill and Ford, as @zoizyboigy suggested, it seems to be a phrase that Ford takes as his own motto. It seems to be a highly personal motto to him; after all, they all are written around important turning moments in Ford's life; graduating, the journals which where to be his ticket to fame, fucking a triangle finding acceptance and intimacy with Bill , and lastly, moving on in his life from Bill and his destructive obsession with recognition. 
And it makes sense WHY this motto is one that is highly personal to Ford; the first time it is seen chronologically is when he's graduating, chosen when he believes he's going to be accepted into the university. It's a motto he chose because he was excited, because he thought he was already through his suffering and arriving to the stars of his fancy university, where validation and acceptance would abound; only that doesn't happen, and the suffering part within the motto is the only thing that's accurate, especially as that's when he rejects Stan. It's a motto chosen in celebration, that becomes a reminder of the failure to become someone who is accepted and important (and his prioritization of validation over relationships); it's now something he holds that reminds him of the validation he believes he deserves and he obsessively chases. 
And that's why you see it in the journal pages, because these journals are going to change his life, he's going to become finally a person of importance and be accepted with the information he's compiled in the journals. And in the same way, you see it after Bill (and interdimensional being of ancient knowledge) and him are intimate; he's become someone of importance to Bill, he's been accepted by Bill, even attractive to Bill (romance Ford seems to have terrible luck in).
And that's why you see it at the end of Ford's farewell to Bill; it's another turning point, it's Ford letting his obsession with world validation go which characterized it's meaning from the beginning, Ford letting go of his relationship with Bill, which it also came to mean, and instead celebrates his acceptance within his family and the strengthening of those bonds, and of prioritizing healthy, loving relationships.
Ps, if you enjoyed this meta post, I've also made another one, on exceptionalism!
612 notes · View notes
buzzingroyalty · 25 days ago
Text
how to grub your karkat
or you can use this for any other plush or if you wanna make a whole new plush entirely or whatever
Tumblr media
disclaimer im not a professional in any sense of the word and theres anything technical im doing wrong or you think you can do it better by all means dont hold back
Things you’ll need
sewing machine unless youre really dedicated but doing it by hand is gonna be an agonizing feat i promise. I just used a straight stitch for everything
Fabrics: for the main body i suggest a minky or something soft, for the inner lining something in the same color as the main body and ideally with some stretch, and anything black for the legs. Less than a yard of each will do
if youre using minky or anything furry get a lint roller. Trust me
stuffing, i used polyfil
threads that match your fabrics
good fabric scissors
sewing needle for hand sewing/fixes
karkat plush (optional)
Tumblr media
Heres the pattern i came up with! They are numbered for your convenience and pieces with the same numbers are going to be part of the same row of segments. cut everything out on the black lines (Make sure when you’re printing to fit the image to the page size.) on the left we have the belly pieces, the right is the main body, and we have the foot in between
Im using a relatively thin minky fabric, im sure you can use whatever but something with some fluffiness kinda helps to mask any imperfections in the sewing. When drawing out your patterns keep in mind what direction your fibers settle in and try to keep it consistent
On the wrong side of the fabric measure out at least a half inch seam allowance around each piece of the pattern, i used a centimeter and that worked but had me sweatin a bit.
Tumblr media
For the main body pieces fold your fabric in half before you cut so you can have 2 of each segment that are mirrored to each other, i also extended all of the #1 pieces an additional centimeter/half inch at the top so we can fold them over at the very end. I highly suggest numbering the insides of all the cut pieces, especially in a way where you will remember what direction they are each meant to sit
Tumblr media
After you’ve numbered all your pieces, set them aside and start making your feet!
Each of the 6 legs is made of two pieces, but i because i only had a swatch of the black minky i made up for the rest with some random black scrap fabric from an old project. Try to keep your fabric consistent if you can lol
I didnt give these pieces any more seam allowance on the fabric but i recommend adding a centimeter or half inch to the base of it to extend the length and have some more wiggle room
Tumblr media
like so
Instead of cutting out 12 individual pieces and struggling to stitch them all together i started with 6, then pinning each piece real tight with the right/furry side down onto my secondary fabric, and slowly stitching around the shape real close to the edges- DO NOT CLOSE THE FLAT SIDE as we are going to stuff the feet through here
Tumblr media
Now cut the shape out of the fabric and repeat till you have 6 feet
Tumblr media
Now flip those bad boys inside out, stuff up, and if you wanna you can match them to their best pairs
Tumblr media
now grab a pair of feeties and your #1 pieces and line them up, in this picture my belly #1 piece is shorter bc i forgot to add the extra centimeter and i recut that once i realized. Line those sides up with the right/furry parts touching and with the feet in between, flip it around to make sure everything's sitting the way you want it
Tumblr media
Note. i didnt realize until later but i sewed my feet in upside down. save yourself the time it takes to fix it and dont make the same mistake
Straight stitch these layers together and repeat with the next two segments our good friends #2 & #3
Tumblr media
Repeat this for the #2 and #3 sections but NOT THE #4, that part doesnt need feet! just line those edges up right/furry sides together and sew
Tumblr media Tumblr media
the secret to the squish of the suit is making this inner lining from another fabric and stuffing it! I used what i had leftover from a stretchy red fabric for a kanaya skirt. For this we need to make a new pattern for each section, making sure it follows the curve of the round edge but the piece itself is shorter, almost like youre removing the seam allowance you added. Mine is a centimeter shorter on the top and on the bottom and reaches to the middle
Tumblr media
Make one of these for each numbered segment,you only need to make half the pattern and you can fold your fabric in half on a crease and you end up with one symmetrical piece (bars)
Tumblr media
Now you need to pin these pieces right on top of the wrong side of your numbered furry sections and line up the straight edges like so (disclaimer for LOTS OF SCARY NEEDLES !!)
Tumblr media
Admittedly i didnt estimate how long these pieces needed to be very accurately and overshot it a bit, if you start pinning it from the middle and continue outwards on either side thatll ensure its not too lose and you can cut off any excess after
The only exception is piece #1, if you recall we gave this #1 section extra seam allowance. This is so we can sew down that excess at the neck later and hide any of the inside that might show once its all put together. Do not connect the top edge to the inner lining! Since i added an extra centimeter earlier im gonna leave that hanging and pin + sew down the inner lining a centimeter lower than the top edge. LEAVE THE CURVED EDGES OPEN! DONT SEW THEM TOGETHER! those stay open to stuff
Tumblr media
Straight stitch the lined up edges together
Tumblr media
Now you have all these skinned pieces of little freak and we need to connect all these segments together making sure to sew UNDER the existing stitches so we dont see those on the outside when its all put together
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Inside looks like a bit of a mess but thats fine bc its not the part that matters
Now stuff it! you might need a stick or pencil or something long and thin to get stuffing into the middle bits
Tumblr media
Now thats its stuffed you can finally close those curved edges. Try not to sew over a thick mound of stuffing, push it in a little further to give yourself some space and you can fluff it back out after everythings closed. I cut off that excess lining fabric after sewing
Tumblr media
Ough… they filleted my boy…
Finally, match up all the edges and lines and HAND SEW them right sides together. You will destroy your machine trying to work around that stuffing i promise. You also have an excuse to get up from your work desk and sew on a couch or smth. I used a standard backstitch for a tight finish and again, make sure you sew under any existing stitches so they arent visible on the outside!
Tumblr media
Speaking of the outside, once you stitch everything together you can very gently flip this sucker inside out
Tumblr media
This is @hatamonu’s cat Cocaina, aka Coco. Her perfectly square figure made it into my grub files somehow so shes essential to the tutorial
Tumblr media
Check the fit and all thats left to do is roughly baste stitch down that excess neck fabric onto the stuffed lining and youre set! I gave the thread slight tugs as i went to tighten the opening a bit put dont tighten it too much
Tumblr media
tadaaaaa
Tumblr media
It fits pretty snug but starts to slip a bit with motion. Heres a bounce test
Tumblr media
 If you do shake your baby make sure to safety pin the plush to the suit so he doesnt prematurely shed his exosekeleton
Now spread that baby fever and show your baby to the world
Tumblr media Tumblr media
pics from the ALA 2025 homestuck meetup and supplied by para.dox.cos
Tysm for coming along this ride with me especially if you followed the prototype journey on twitter, much thanks to my more sewing savvy friend for the solution to my grub dilemma and for helping me design and build my dolorosa cosplay <3 much love and hopefully many more homestuck cosplays and meetups to come in the future!
296 notes · View notes
taylorswiftstyle · 6 days ago
Text
Tumblr media
Attending Super Bowl LIX | New Orleans, LA | February 9, 2025
Saint Laurent ‘Double Breasted Blazer’ - $3,253.00 Alaïa ‘Sleeveless Ribbed Bodysuit’ - $1,300.00 Effy Jewelry ‘Ruby Royale Bracelet’ - not available online  Effy Jewelry ‘Ruby Royale 14K Yellow Gold Ruby and Diamond Ring’ - $12,739.00 Cartier ‘Panthère de Cartier Medium Watch Diamond’ - $32,200.00 Effy Jewelry ‘Ruby Royale 14K Yellow Gold Baguette Cut Ruby and Diamond Band’ - $5,297.00 Logan Hollowell ‘Eau de Rose Cut Iris Diamond Hand Chain’ - $4,350.00 Lorraine Schwartz custom necklace Monday Denim ‘Crystal Embellished Shorts’ - not available to purchase Givenchy ‘Red Nano Voyou Bag’ - $990.00 Paris Texas ‘Over The Knee Boot’ - $1,120.00
One of my favourite factors of game day fashion is how it creates the perfect vacuum for a style case study. There are constants and constraints when dressing for a repeatable event like this. Factors that make it so you can create a storyline of outfits that unfold over a period of time that each uniquely stand on their own, but that also create an opportunity to have them “speak” to one another. 
A Blazer of Glory: Taylor in a blazer and thigh high boots is my version of winning the Super Bowl. If I were to pick a staple in my own closet - and an item I always get a thrill seeing Taylor wear - it’s a blazer. So I was delighted to see her in one (even briefly) that’s sharp, chic, and that sandwich styles with her OTK white boots. While I personally love it and am delighted we got some footage of her wearing this polished layer, I actually think this look says a lot more without it. Sans blazer, the combination of a white tank and denim shorts immediately brought to my mind the images of her very first Chiefs game ever. Back then - September 2023 - Taylor wore a soft white eyelet trim tank top by Doen paired with washed black denim shorts by Ksubi. This ensemble is like a reference to that. With some distinct elevated upgrades to illustrate how far we’ve come since then, of course. Like some fierce stiletto boots > sneakers and sparkly shorts > distressed shorts. 
I Like Shiny Things: In addition to letting her bejeweled, the shorts reference some of the most significant milestones in Taylor’s tenure as sportsball spectator. Combined with her white tank, the outfit resembles her very first game day ensemble from September 2023. Though her denim then, by Ksubi, was distressed over embellished. They also nod to her 2024 season opener jean shorts by Grlfrnd - thigh high boots included. Most importantly, they make a great year over year comparison to the crystal trim denim pants by Area worn to her first Super Bowl — last year’s LVIII. 
Re-e-e-d: For the minutest amount of red, Taylor accessorized her outfit with a ‘Nano’ bag by Givenchy. According to my archives via TSS, this is a first for her to carry the brand via a bag. As is typical for Taylor’s game day fashion, most of her jewelry was also rendered in stones coloured Chiefs red. The piece that most caught my eye was her hand chain and how it riffs on her recent love of unique chain jewelry, including a certain thigh chain that was repurposed into a necklace here. 
Photo by Gregory Shamus via Getty Images
190 notes · View notes
ambrosiagourmet · 9 months ago
Text
Hey, Kabru and Mithrun spend some interesting time together, don't they?
With Mithrun having just officially premiered in the anime, and a lot of discussions swirling around about him, I've been thinking a lot about that section of the story quite a bit. These chapters - Roasted Walking Mushroom and 6 Days - are some of my favorites. For a lot of reasons, really. Not only are they are a huge turning point for the story as a whole, but they have some excellent character work, and represent an important shift in Kabru and Mithrun's individual arcs and relationship to each other.
The chapters are also kind of a fully contained story arc just on their own, which is an impressive bit of writing, and makes them super fun to analyze. So that's exactly what I'm going to do!
This will be structured as a close reading of chapters 61 & 62, with some asides for additional important context. I'm going to talk a little bit about a reading that I disagree with, but for the most part I just want to focus on how Kabru and Mithrun's relationship progresses during these two chapters. In particular, the ways they both grow from the time they spend together.
Also I just want to quickly note that this isn't written as Ship Content. It's meant to be an analysis of their relationship as presented in the text - layer whatever additional meanings and filters on top of that as you'd like, but please respect that my intent is not to talk about or champion a ship, or frame any of this content as romantic.
So, with that all being said:
How do Kabru and Mithrun help each other?
First of all, I think there are two important pieces of context that inform the Kabru & Mithrun Dungeon Adventure chapters. Both are related to Kabru's state of mind, and both are set up before or during the chapters in question.
The first is the context of what happened just before Kabru and Mithrun fell into the dungeon. Specifically, the events that led Kabru to make them fall.
Kabru, essentially, gives up his life at the end of chapter 55. When he stops Mithrun, and when they both plummet with the collapse of the first floor, he is okay with dying. Mithrun warns him that they will both die if Kabru doesn't let him go, and Kabru accepts this as a worthwhile exchange.
Why?
Well, because he doesn't want the elves to take over the dungeon. Throughout the last 3 chapters, the Canaries have been effective, but they have also been cruel in their efficiency, and they have made it clear that they don't care about collateral damage. They lured people into the dungeon specifically to provoke a violent reaction from it, without regard for who might get hurt by the violence.
Tumblr media
What's more, they are keeping important information from Kabru, and he knows it.
Tumblr media
He's not just looking for a solution, he's looking for the truth - a truth that he believes that he will only find through conquering the dungeon. With good reason, to be fair! The elves make it very clear that they aren't there to treat the other races on the Island as equals.
Tumblr media
So Kabru uses the only tool he has available to him - his own life. It won't get him the truth, but it at least gives a chance for another person from a short-life species (namely, Laios) to earn it in his place.
This dovetails nicely with the more thematic context that's introduced in at the start of chapter 61: the room where he could eat all the cake he wanted.
Tumblr media
This place, a place that Kabru never wants to go back to, is a place where he is safe, and a place where he is ignorant. A place where he is sheltered from danger, but also from the truth. The same place the Island would become, if the Canaries had their way. He doesn't just want to be safe, and he doesn't even just want the world to be safe, though he does want to be able to protect people from what happened in Utaya.
But he doesn't just want to entrust that safety to the paternalism of the elves (especially since he is all too aware of the ways they can fail, or the people they are willing to sacrifice in the name of that "safety"). He wants to be given the agency to seek safety and peace for himself.
Tumblr media
He wants to understand. And he wants the chance to act.
This is the context we have, going into the arc of 61 & 62. But before I talk about how the chapters build on this context, I want to take a step back and look at what else the chapters establish early on, before delving into their exploration of Kabru's agency.
First of all, I kind of want to challenge the framing of Kabru and Mithrun's relationship as solely that of a caretaker and his charge.
Obviously, Kabru is forced into a caretaker position - at the threat of his friend's safety, no less. (Okay, it's actually Toshiro and Namari that are being held, but still. There are hostages involved in this) But I do think it's important that Mithrun isn't the one who puts Kabru in this position - Cithis is.
Tumblr media
Before this conversation, Kabru and Mithrun are already exploring the dungeon together. Mithrun doesn't threaten Kabru, or force his hand. He kind of just assumes that Kabru will join him. It's rude, and not particularly respectful, but given the dangers of navigating a dungeon alone, I don't think that's really an unreasonable assumption. And it certainly isn't the same as Cithis' approach.
If they were left alone with no intervention, they probably would have ended up in a similar position to the one that Cithis leveraged them into. Kabru is smart, and he could have figured out the things that Mithrun needed help with. And, to be clear, those are things that Mithrun needs help with not because he is selfish or thinks they are owed to him, but because he is disabled. It's not unreasonable for him to need that help, and it's not unreasonable for Kabru to provide it, under the circumstances.
Besides, they both need each other down there. Kabru wouldn't have survived without Mithrun - he doesn't know enough about monsters, and isn't familiar with the deeper dungeon's layout. And Mithrun wouldn't survive without Kabru - he isn't able to notice his basic needs and would burn himself out without food or rest, making him an easy target for the monsters he could otherwise take care of on his own.
Aside from both needing each other, another interesting layer to their relationship, which is established right away, is that Kabru doesn't have to - and literally cannot - put on a mask of social niceties around Mithrun. He can't suck up. It doesn't work.
Tumblr media
So Kabru, who spends so much of his time concerned with how others perceive him, and who compromises his own comfort in order to become the most appealing version of himself at any given time, has that tool taken away. He has to help Mithrun, but notably, he can only help Mithrun to a certain point. He cannot compromise his open and honest feelings to help maintain someone else's view of the world - or at very least, it doesn't benefit him at all to do so.
Instead, they sit together, in the same position, share the same shitty mushroom dinner, because they both have to:
Tumblr media
And that's notable, too. They both have to. Cithis' demand is most specific about the need to eat. Three meals a day! But this is something they both need, not just Mithrun.
Still, their relationship at this point still isn't exactly supportive, or even respectful. Kabru may have realized that he didn't need to keep up an act around Mithrun, but ya know, he still turns around an immediately try to, with that shitty mushroom dinner.
Tumblr media
(The 'badly drawn shapeshift Kabru' gag here isn't just funny, imo, it's also a reminder of the thing he JUST LEARNED. Mithrun is immune to the Kabru smile anime sparkles filter.)
Mithrun also doesn't tell Kabru any helpful information at this point, and doesn't really put much effort into helping him at all. He slaps him awake out of a Nightmare, and treats him with the same disregard he did at the start of the chapter, focused entirely on moving ahead.
But then Mithrun collapses, and the current structure of their relationship collapses with him.
Tumblr media
I think it's interesting here that the shift in their dynamic also includes Mithrun explicitly noticing Kabru's desires. Obviously it's not actually like some kind of I truly see you and recognize your humanity moment shared between them, but I do still like the way that it pulls Kabru's internal wants to the surface. Kabru not voicing his desires doesn't mean they don't exist, and Mithrun recognizes that the same way the dungeon does.
And then Mithrun does, in fact, grant one of Kabru's deepest desires. He tells Kabru the truth.
Tumblr media
Just like how they are working together in the first place, this truth is as much a necessary concession to survival as anything. But that doesn't mean it's not impactful for Kabru. This is the thing that every other elf in his life has kept from him. A secret foundational to his core belief that long-life and short-life species can never come to mutual understanding.
And Mithrun isn't just giving him the bare minimum information here. What he shares isn't just a truth, it's his truth. It's a level of complete and total vulnerability that few people share with each other. And again - some of this may just be coincidence and necessity. I imagine Mithrun is so open, at least in part, because he doesn't have the same barriers that other people do when it comes to sharing these things.
But, then again... we see Mithrun at his most vulnerable and empathetic when he is talking to dungeon lords & potential dungeon lords, and trying to convey to them the truth of the trap they are walking into.
This face:
Tumblr media
Is very similar to this face:
Tumblr media
These are some of the few instances that we see Mithrun emote in this way, and his story does come just after he notices the dungeon responding to Kabru's desires.
But, no matter if Mithrun's openness is in response to Kabru being tangled in the dungeon's hunger, or just part of his nature (or, maybe, a little of both), his story changes things for Kabru. It gives him the chance to make actual choices, now that he understands the truth. It gives him a chance at agency in the story.
And he immediately turns around and uses some of that agency in an interesting way:
Tumblr media
When asked about why he can't sleep, Mithrun says he needs to be magically compelled. Being magicked to sleep is simple, and it is efficient, but he doesn't even just say it's the best option. He seems to believe it is the only option.
So much in Mithrun's recovery has been framed through how it will let him fight the demon. Recover so that you can return to the dungeon. Sleep so that you can return to the dungeon. Eat so that you can return to the dungeon.
Tumblr media
But rest, much like eating, isn't just about achieving the bare minimum required for efficiency. And as Senshi would probably say, the easiest path isn't always the best.
Tumblr media
I don't think that the Canaries are intentionally running Mithrun ragged or anything, but as I mentioned earlier, they are very focused on efficiency, with little thought spared to what is lost or hurt in the process.
And there is something different about Mithrun's time with Kabru in the dungeon. Lycion even notes it, when they finally connect back up.
Tumblr media
I don't think it's a huge leap to say that how Mithrun falls asleep here is emblematic of that difference. When Kabru helps Mithrun to sleep by massaging his feet, rather then using magic, he is explicitly taking a step beyond the minimum. He is providing comfort to a body that has been given only necessities for a long, long time.
Tumblr media
These two events - Mithrun sharing the truth of the dungeon with Kabru, and Kabru choosing to help Mithrun to sleep through a foot massage - shift their relationship. There's a clear difference in how we see them treat each other, and especially in how Mithrun treats Kabru.
Before, Kabru provides food that he has gathered himself (okay, it was a mushroom he put his foot through on floor one, but the point still stands that Mithrun offered no help at all with getting food).
Afterwards, they gather food together.
Tumblr media
Before, Mithrun teleports Kabru towards a monster, using him as a weapon when he can't find anything else.
Tumblr media
Afterwards, he helps Kabru escape monsters, and fights them directly.
Tumblr media
Before, he slaps Kabru awake after 5 hours of uncomfortable, Nightmare-filled sleep. A rest which, notably, Kabru didn't even intend to take for himself.
Tumblr media
Afterwards, we see Mithrun keeping watch while Kabru sleeps in a bedroll.
Tumblr media
I don't necessarily think that all of these things are choices that Mithrun consciously makes. Like, after 6 days, Kabru would have to get some actual sleep eventually, and Mithrun would pretty obviously have to keep watching during that time.
Nonetheless, there's still a difference in how these scenes are framed, and the fact that it is these things that are used to portray their journey together. Kabru is not the sole person providing food and sleep and safety - they provide these things for each other. Kabru eats alongside Mithrun, hunts alongside Mithrun, and he sleeps in the same way we see Mithrun sleep, laying down and resting deeply enough to be groggy when woken up.
Tumblr media
What's more, during their time together, there are even a couple of instances of Kabru being more willing to care for himself and accept care. The sleeping is one example - note how he is surprised at having slept "that long" when told he was asleep for less than even the minimum recommended amount of nightly sleep - but I think the pattern of his eating is even clearer. In making sure that Mithrun eats regularly, he is forced to eat regularly too.
And I especially like the progression with the Barometz meal. After Mithrun has fallen asleep, Kabru thinks about wanting to "give [Mithrun] something nice to eat," but also notes that Mithrun's lack of desire "means there isn't even anything he wants to eat." So what does Kabru do?
He makes Mithrun something that he wants to eat.
Tumblr media
I've already talked a bit about the ways that Dungeon Meshi depicts people finding support through "borrowing" the desires of the people who care for them, and I think this scene is a great example of that idea. Especially in the way that it pulls an expression of desire from Kabru, who is so prone to ignore his own hunger and needs. The meal may not end up anywhere close to the flavor intended, but it's still a far cry from the roasted walking mushroom.
All of these pieces come together at the end of chapter 62, resulting in a pivotal choice that could only happen because of the ways Kabru and Mithrun have, at least a little bit, grown closer to each other.
As they are preparing to leave, Kabru hears a bell ringing in the dungeon, just as he hears Toshiro's matching bell on the other side of the portal. Realizing Laios is nearby, Kabru hesitates. He knows the truth about the demon, and how he has a chance to act on it.
Cithis, the person who extorted Kabru into taking care of Mithrun in the first place, pushes for Mithrun to follow along with the plan.
(okay a quick aside here I just want to say I do love Cithis and I'm not trying to bash on her here. I just think it's interesting that she is the one to establish the terms of Mithrun & Kabru's cooperation, as well as the one who tells Mithrun to leave the dungeon at the end of the chapter)
Tumblr media
But Mithrun doesn't go along with her command. Instead, he does something unexpected:
Tumblr media
He asks what Kabru wants to do.
In contrast to Milsiril's smothering comfort,
Tumblr media
and in contrast to his Mithrun's own assumption that Kabru will follow him, when they first wake up in the dungeon,
Tumblr media
Mithrun follows Kabru's lead.
Tumblr media
This, right here, is the change between them. Not only that, but it's a shift in the entire balance of agency in the dungeon. For what might be the first time in a very long time, Kabru - a tall-man - knows the truth, and is acting on it. He makes a huge decision purely on his own judgement. He is not trying to appease or coerce anyone, and he doesn't win Mithrun over by hiding his true intentions.
Rather, it's the honesty between them that builds to this moment. Mithrun's honesty earns Kabru's trust, and Kabru's honesty earns Mithrun's respect. They bond not because they are forced to spend time together, but because they choose to spend that time giving each other more than the bare minimum - even when they are both people used to accepting the bare minimum.
It echoes Laios' argument with Toshiro, in a way. They eat three square meals a day (Cithis mandated admittedly), they get plenty of sleep, and in doing these things, they take each other seriously. They treat each other as more than just a means to an end.
I don't necessarily think it's a flawless, unbreakable bond that's built during this time - hell, they both kind of revert back to their old behavior, once reunited with the rest of the Canaries. People don't completely change their habits overnight, after all.
But it is a shift. It's a shift that gives Kabru the chance to steer the story towards the ending he has fought for all his life, and it's a shift that helps Mithrun find a way to move forward after he loses his own reason for living. They reach their goals, and then they step past them - facing life beyond the moments they thought defined their reasons for living. Facing life beyond the bare minimum.
And that is how they help each other.
673 notes · View notes
bunny-jpeg · 7 months ago
Note
Hi bunny, could I get a vanilla cheesecake with some tea please. Also make it a Norris fic
the bakery menu
thank you for the lovely order! there are still loads of tasty treats still on the menu, so please feel free to submit your own!
vanilla cheesecake ("where are your manners?") + tea (semi-public/public sex) served by lando norris (formula one)!
cw: smut/pwp, semi-public sex, slight dom/sub, clothed sex, quiet sex, quick sex, praise kink,
Tumblr media
it all started at a bar in bristol. you were in lando's old stomping ground. you were a little drunk talking amongst some of lando's old childhood friends.
you were pressed up against your boyfriend and felt the comforting weight on your shoulders from his arm across them. he was a comforting presence next to you. but you had to depart from his side as your glass was empty.
"i'm gonna get another one." you said as you tapped the rim of the beer glass before you got up. you were thankful that you weren't wearing heels or you'd probably cause an incident. you could feel lando's heavy gaze on you as you strode up to the bar and put both arms on top of the wood, "another brewdog, ipa."
you felt a hand on your lower back, you were about to give whoever was touching you a swift punch when you looked over and saw it was your boyfriend.
"where are your manners?" he asked with his lips close to your ear, "i thought i told you to be a good girl." he chuckled a little, "and here you are being so rude to that bartender. that's not the girl i know." he kept his hand on your lower back, a domineering touch to center you. when the bartender came back with the beer, lando's voice was in your ear once more, "say thank you, love."
you looked at the bartender as you picked up the pint glass and said, "thank you so much!" and flashed him a bright smile as if your cheeks and neck weren't burning from your boyfriend's rules.
you were devoted to one another, but there was an additional layer to your relationship. where on the surface you looked like a total it-couple, in the quiet whispers lando was a total dom. and you were his loyal submissive.
you got back to the table and put your drink down before you scurried off to the washroom. a few moments passed before lando said he was going to get a drink. through the densely packed bar, he moved his way through to the back where the washrooms were.
he could feel the heat in his body pool in his gut, his cock strained against his jeans as he knocked on the door of the single stall bathroom.
he looked over his shoulder briefly, no one noticed anything. but then the door opened and you grabbed lando by the front of the shirt to pull him inside. he instantly had his hands on your behind as he pulled you closer to him.
you reached around him to lock the door and you ended up on the sink counter with your skirt pushed up. you felt the heat burn your cheeks and down the back of your neck.
it felt risky and exciting.
"you're such a good girl, even though you've had enough beers." he laughed as he stood in front of you, his hand down his pants as he tried to pull his cock out of his jeans.
"i am a good girl!" you kicked you legs out playfully and devolved into giggles.
he reached over and covered your mouth with his hand, "i know the bar is loud, but there's no need to be even louder. we need to be quiet, love or we're going to make headlines."
the thought of what the press would come up with made your cheeks burn as he hiked up your dress even more. his hands that roamed your thighs made you feel light all over.
"pretty doll." he said, "you look so good at my side. but you have to remember your manners, love." he said with love dipped in his voice. he was a more of a gentle dom.he got your panties down to one ankle and looked at your sweet cunt, "you like this don't you? knowing that anyone could come in and just see me fucking the shit out of you."
you wanted to wrap your arms around your boyfriend, but instead you had to cover your mouth so you weren't so painfully loud. you couldn't help it, you got used to the privacy of lando's home where no one could hear your erotic moans.
but in the semi-public it was a lot harder to keep yourself quiet, especially now that lando was playing with your bare clit. the wetness dampened his thumb and pointer finger. you looked so good, he knew that you could be such a good girl for him.
"now, what do we say when we want something? where are your manners, love?" he asked with a sly smirk.
you swallowed and pulled your hands away from your mouth. it took you a few moments to compose yourself to reply, "please, sir. please, fuck me." you knew this was the worst place to fuck. it was damp and dirty, but the curl in your gut of lust drove you to need to be touched.
"you look good like this, all flustered for me. you look so pretty, the prettiest thing in this entire bar." he could smell the beer on your breath but then again you could probably smell the same on him.
this was probably the worst place to have sex, but there was something about bitter beer that made you two want to jump each other's bones. it wasn't as bad as champagne which had lando's cock buried into you by the time you finished your first glass.
you tried not to think about how dirty the counter was and spread your legs a little further, the dress pushed up enough to show off your pretty pussy to him.
you covered your mouth once more to block out most of the noise. your eyes almost rolled back into your head when lando wasted little time to pushing his cock inside of you.
"sir." you said through your fingers.
he kissed your forehead as he took you by the hips and started to rock into you. normally lando liked to romance you into bed, but right now it had to be brutal and quick.
regardless your wet cunt felt nice around his painfully erect cock. it all felt dirty and hot, the dress stuck to your skin as you started to sweat. you panted through your hands as you tried to keep quiet. lando on the other hand was struggling as well to keep quiet. but there was something about his beautiful girl's pussy that drove him mad.
maybe next time they want to do something semi-public they'll do it on the boat where he could fuck you in peace on the deck and no one could saw a word. shitty little bars in bristol were not the perfect place for a girl like you to be fucked in.
maybe a driver's room or a hotel with nice sheets. he'd maybe even finger you at the event at the end of the season. but right now you looked like a little whore sat on top of the counter with lando thrusting his cock into you.
you wanted to clutch onto him, instead your sweaty back touched the mirror behind you. you leaned back a little and gave him extra room to shove his entire cock into you. you moaned a little bit despite your best efforts. the pleasure felt like it was melting your brain with the aid of all that beer.
"see, i know you can be a good girl. because you're mine and i only have the best. fuck, you're so pretty right now, all fucked out. i know you're going to be sitting back with my friends with my cum stuck to your thigh." he wanted to kiss you so badly, he wanted to feel as close to you as he could.
he wanted all of you, every last inch to every last cell. you were his girl, his beloved. he maintained eye contact as he thrusted into you. he felt the heat in his body, sweat went down his neck.
you whimpered through your hands and panted heavily, you looked hot in every sense of the word. orgasm was close and you tried to meet lando's thrust. you couldn't hold it in much longer and grabbed your lover by the shoulders and pulled him in for a hot kiss so you could hold him while being quiet.
you groaned into the kiss as he continued to rut against you. your core felt soaked and it was evident by how wet lando's cock was. you relaxed against the wall and still reached out to hold his shoulders.
"that's my girl." he said, "what do we say when you get to cum?"
"thank you, sir."
he kissed your sweaty forehead and gave a few more jerky thrusts before he finished inside of you. he slowed down his movements and had to brace his hands on either side of you on the counter so he could steady himself from the strong orgasm.
"oh fuck." he mumbled to himself between heavy pants. he was thankful that the rest of the bar was as loud as it was. he kissed you passionately on the lips before he helped you back into your panties and straightened out the skirt of your dress.
you pulled him in for one last kiss before you got off the counter with shaky legs. but lando kept you close, the leftover pleasure and the presence of alcohol made you a little dizzy.
he kept you close to him, the smell of his body spray left you yearning for more. he noticed this and said, "someone has been such a good girl for me. why don't we pay everyone's bill and get home? i don't think we're quite done."
you couldn't help yourself, you nodded eagerly. you were always willing to be on your best behaviour for your lando <3
659 notes · View notes