#first time i draw in a while and the first thing i do is draw Lust sad and hating himself

[meracyn]

༘♡⋆ hopeless

༉ just blue lock boys having a crush on you!

starring yoichi isagi, meguru bachira, seishiro nagi & reo mikage (all separate)! x reader

warnings cursing, implied fem! reader in reo’s part

notes so i forgot how to write..

YOICHI ISAGI

isagi was like a literal simp.

finding any excuse to talk to you— no matter how ridiculous it seemed, isagi would make it work somehow.

yeah. even if it meant purposely accidentally bumping into you.

“oh sh—i’m so sorry! are you okay? i didn’t mean to bump into you,” he stammered, his face already flushed red at the contact of your shoulders brushing. he offered a water bottle, snack— hell, even doing your homework as an apology.

on the other hand, you only stood there watching in amusement. “yoichi, i’m fine, don’t worry.” you said with a smile, trying to reassure him.

and ever since that day, isagi would suddenly be around you constantly— from simple greetings to walking you to all of your classes (it’s fine if he was a few minutes late, what’s the big deal?)— all while still coming up with the most random conversation starters that left you questioning what really was going on through his head.

“bread or rice for breakfast? bread? awesome, me too! so, what are your plans for this weekend?”

it eventually becomes a cycle that leads to his friends finding out about it, too. while some mostly stay back and watch him stumble over his words with a red face whenever they spot him talking to you, others do the opposite. like bachira, for example, who teases him like hell for it.

“hey, what’s with that smile?”

at his friends’ sudden question, isagi immediately felt his cheeks heat up, trying to think of a believable excuse to escape bachira’s teasing. only to fail and say the first thing that came to his mind, “n-nothing.”

“ohhhh,” bachira replied, drawing out the sound dramatically. “i see, you’re thinking about them, aren’t you?”

isagi stammered out a response in denial, but deep down, knew it was true.

later that night as he laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind was full of thoughts of you. the way your smile made him feel like he was above clouds or whenever you looked at him had his heart skipping a beat.

he groaned softly, turning over to bury his face in his pillow with a pink face. “i’m screwed.” he mumbled to himself, feeling his heart pounding loudly in his chest. despite the swirl of emotions that fogged up his mind, a shy smile tugged at his lips.

isagi couldn’t wait to see you tomorrow.

MEGURU BACHIRA

“meguru, i can’t move if you’re hanging off of my back.”

for the past ten minutes or possibly more, meguru suddenly jumped onto you from behind, his arms and legs locked around you, tightening every time you tried to move.

the hallways were empty except for the both of you, which unfortunately meant for the brown-haired male to keep clinging onto you like a koala, no matter how much you complained and turned to pry him off.

he leaned down to rub his cheek affectionately against yours for a moment. “then don’t.”

“you can’t just cling to me all day,”

“why not? you’re not hard to carry.”

you scoffed, placing your hands on his knees to push them down so he would let go, but to no avail. “what’s that supposed to mean?” you huffed, giving up your attempts to free yourself.

meguru grinned, finally letting go before wrapping an arm around your waist, lifting you off of the ground with ease to hold you bridal style. “you’re really light for someone so short.”

“what the fu— put me down!”

his bright yellow eyes bore into yours. “nope. this is way better!” he replied with a hum, abruptly turning on his heel as he spun you around, his laughter echoing through the hallways.

you felt your cheeks redden at his daring hold on your body, frantically looking around to make sure no one was nearby. gosh, it would be so embarrassing if anyone caught you both in this situation right now.

“why are you even doing this?” you asked, avoiding to look into those warm, honey-colored eyes of his.

meguru paused. “huh..i guess i just like being around you.” he said softly, his tone steering away from playful to sincere.

“oh.” you felt your cheeks redden further, lifting your head once more to face him. “that’s..cute, but—”

“wait,” he interrupted, his eyes widening as if he realized something. “do i..” meguru’s cheeks turned a tad pink as he kept gazing into your eyes intensely, causing you to get nervous.

then he burst out laughing. “ohh, i get it now.”

you raised an eyebrow, still confused by what he was referring to. “of what?”

he grinned at you again, holding you tightly in his arms as he leaned in closer, his face mere inches away from yours. “i think i really like you. a lot.”

SEISHIRO NAGI

you lost.

again.

gripping the controller in frustration, you cursed under your breath, “dammit, why is it so hard?”

you were currently over at nagi’s place, chilling in his room while laying on his bed. your eyes focused on the large television displaying the ‘game over’ screen, then back at nagi, who was sprawled out on his gaming chair and engrossed in his phone, the sounds of gunshots and taps of his fingers being heard.

“sei,” you called out, sitting up as you went over to him, nudging his shoulder gently with the palm of your hand.

no answer.

clicking your tongue in annoyance, you decided to move so you would sit in front of him, noticing how his dark eyes were laser-focused on his phone. you reached out, booping his nose.

nagi flinched slightly, his eyes flickering up to meet yours. “what was that for?”

“to get your attention.”

“huh? what do you need?” he asked, casually pressing the pause button on his phone as if he wasn’t currently in the middle of finishing the last boss.

“i need help on this level,” you grabbed the controller, holding it out for him to see the screen shown on tv.

“oh. sure.”

after a while, you waved him goodbye, going off to walk home. nagi waved back, shutting the door once you were out of sight. he sat down on the couch, phone in hand to resume his match. reo, who was sitting on the other end of the furniture and had heard everything from upstairs, decided to try to do the same.

“can you pause your game again and get me a drink?”

nagi hummed, not bothering to look up from his phone. “get it yourself.” he replied with a deadpanned expression.

“but you did it for y/n—”

“that was different.”

reo’s jaw dropped, a vein mark popping on his forehead. “why them and not me!?”

nagi only shrugged. “maybe i just like them more than you.”

his comment had reo sulking that night.

REO MIKAGE

it was white day— a month after valentine’s, where boys were the ones giving gifts to the girls instead; whether for friendship, admiration, or simply reciprocating the gifts they had received from them.

although it was more like another normal day for you. when valentine’s day rolled around, you had given reo a box of chocolates for the sole purpose of being a great friend, not thinking much of it back then.

what you didn’t know, was that he decided to give you something back.

except ten times more.

as you walked into the classroom, your eyes widened at the sight of your assigned desk being stacked with all sorts of gifts— heart-shaped chocolate boxes, small bags of cookies, flowers, and a small teddy bear in a suit with a white tag above its chest.

oh, don’t forget a single pink card on top of everything.

a group of your classmates surrounded your desk, murmuring who was your admirer to have gifted you so much. how did you manage to get the most gifts on white day out of everyone else in the room?

from what they knew, you didn’t give any guy a whole stack of gifts. so what gives?

meanwhile for you, it didn’t take you that long to figure out who your—possible— secret admirer was.

who else other than reo mikage himself?

once classes were over, you spotted him standing nearby, leaning against the wall while trying to look nonchalant. you headed towards him, carrying the mountain of gifts in your arms.

“hey reo! look at what i got,” you said with a grin, holding everything up for him to see. “i wonder who got me all this. i want to thank them personally, you know?”

reo silently beamed, thinking he pulled it off perfectly— especially you not knowing who it was. he cleared his throat, trying to maintain his innocent act. “oh yeah, i wonder.”

your eyes narrowed as you looked at him, picking up the teddy bear. “it’s obviously you, it literally has your name on it.”

crap. reo’s eyes widened, his face flushing pink in embarrassment. how did he fail to notice that!? “oh—uh..” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck while avoiding eye contact.

“..it’s fine, thank you, reo.” you said softly with a smile.

he looked up, his heart racing in his chest once he noticed that sweet smile of yours that never failed to leave him a flustered mess each time.

“really—”

“just don’t send an entire store of chocolates next time.”

[truths33k3r4]

Thanks for the tag, @phoebepheebsphibs!!

Melissa’s end of year stats!

Age: just turned 24 today

Height: 5’3 (I'm small but SCRAPPY)

Grade: I graduated high school eight years ago and never went to college. XD

Confidence: It's doing much better now that I have found my own community here on Tumblr and Youtube. :) TMNT has been something that has opened up SO MANY opportunities and friendships in the last year or so. :) So that has certainly boosted my confidence!

Happiness: UUHHHHH.... This past year was... not easy. One of the hardest in fact. So to be honest, happiness levels were at an all time low for a lot of it. But for the times that good things were happening, it made them shine ever brighter. <3 I'm doing better now, mentally and emotionally. <3 Seriously helps that I'm getting better sleep too. :)

Gender: female

Sexuality: straight

Romantic: Nope. Tried it. Not for me. Not now.

Favorite Food: ramen with fried eggs, chicken, and my homemade terriyaki sauce!

Favorite Show: TMNT 2003 and Avatar the Last Airbender!

Favorite Movie: OOOF. Uhhh (There's so many what the frick-) I'll go with How to Train Your Dragon and National Treasure. :) (I also agree with Pheebs- SONIC 3 ALSO BROKE ME- That movie was SERIOUSLY so well written compared to the first two- I NEED TO DRAW SHADOW AND MARIA LIKE NOW-)

Favorite Song: I am LOVING "Dangerous" from Epic the Musical. Any time it starts playing while I'm drawing, it sparks an impromptu dance break. XD His voice is just so smooooooth~

Favorite Artist: Tauren Wells has been one of my favorites lately. :)

Relationship Status: No thank you, I'm good. XD

Favorite Color: Deep Teal!

Favorite Season: AUTUMNNNN ALLL THE WAYYYYYY

Followers: 444

This was fun! Feel free to join in guys! :)

@indieyuugure @brightonstudios @allyheart707 @poetique823 @carrots-bear @sarathrwizard @risebabyx2 @jadetheblueartist @jasminegazer

End of year stats!

Age: won’t say but minor

Height: 5’5

Grade: won’t say

Confidence: 7/10

Happiness: 5/10

Gender: gender fluid

Sexuality: asexual

Romantic: aroflux

Fav food: probably ramen?

Fav show: b99

Fav movie: not any

Fav song: too many to pick!!!

Fav artist: wallows or dayglow

Relationship status: single

Fav colour: green

Fav season: winter

Followers: 358 (as of Dec 29 at 2 am)

[marikosfragrance]

BLUE LOCK X READER

"Can he pass the "Orange peel" test?"

Characters : Isagi Yoichi, Itoshi Sae, Karasu Tabito, Bachira Meguru

Content : A scenario in which you ask them for an orange and ask them to peel it for you— seeing how willing they are to do acts of services.

Disclaimer : Some of you readers may be sensitive, so prepare yourself for things you might not expect like harshness in some characters

SET : I set the scenario where you and the (character) have dated for 2 years, but kaiser is not healed. Sae might come off as cold, rin might seem detached or some other traits that you might deem as a red flag. So read at your own accord, taking this warning into consideration. I won't add a description of what type of personality reader is for everyone to feel welcome.

Note : I am glad ya'll enjoyed the previous scenarios, now let us explore more. Take it into consideration that when you guys send me requests or asks, you can freely set the setting to however you'd like, if you'd like it if it is set into a time where kaiser is healed, or sae and rin have opened up, which might take ages if done slowly. Or when isagi haven't met you so he isn't in love with you, and so on and so forth with other characters. Now enjoy.

Isagi Yoichi - he would

I am sure it doesn't come off as much of a surprise if someone like Isagi would do this act of affection. For him, it might even be natural— his way of showcasing how much he cares for you. If this was set at a time where you just started dating, he would feel flustered and might even mess up a bit, but for Isagi, this act would be a symbolism of how he is willing to do anything to minimize your workload as well as please you.

Yoy two are spending some time on the couch, intitially planning to watch tv, and not let any interruptions occur. However, you had a different plan in mind. Isagi was invested in the movie and glances at you from time to time to check your reactions. Until you asked for an orange, which draws his eyes to you— away from the tv now. You repeated your request as it sinks into his mind. He chuckles lightly— an apology exiting his mouth, from how he didnt hear you the first time.

You asked for an orange and he wouldn't even question it, just thinking you might be tired as he makes his way to the kitchen. After grabbing an orange, he walks towards you then stretches his hand out to give it to you, you didn't reach out for it and instead asked him to peel it. Isagi might feel confused at first but would happily do it, seeing this as a sign of affection rather than a workload.

(Isagi's part is short, because he does it no hesitation and no complaints)

Itoshi Sae - he would begrudgingly do it

The fact that you were able to handle him for 2 years, much less get into a relationship means he can see you in his future, or you managed to really convince him that you won't get in the way of his plans and goals. Which is amazing in its own way— since it might've took you years to get him convinced. So you might already be aware that he won't give in to such pointless acts of affection. But you tried it anyway, since he isn't really always present, so why not make the most of it?

You two were just sitting on his couch. Yes— his couch. You never brought up the idea of living together since Sae seems to really like his space. And even if he secretly wanted to, you can't see him telling you about it or bringing up the idea. You are watching TV, eyes darting to whatever he is working on— eyes meeting some soccer data stuff on his laptop which is rested on his lap. You waited for a while, and there he goes. Sae places his laptop on the center table as his body relaxes, leaning more on the back of the couch— looking at whatever you were watching.

You called out his name, followed by your requests— an orange. You can see him squinting his eyes a little at your odd request, since normally you would get it yourself, but with a sigh, he stands up and heads to the kitchen. He grabs an orange and goes back to you sitting on the couch, looking at him with anticipating eyes— the upcoming second request reluctantly but successfully leaving your mouth. "Can you peel it for me?" You ask.

"Why can't you peel it yourself?" Sae questions you. Despite him intentionally trying to not sound mean, he genuinely wants to know why— his question coming from a place of pure confusion rather than a harsh reply. You might just sigh to yourself, feeling upset and grab the orange to peel it yourself till he raises his hand— keeping you from taking the orange away. And with a big sigh, he decides to sit down and peel it. But the situation is confusing for him; why couldn't you peel it yourself? He questions himself. In the end, he peels it but instead of it coming from a place of care, his decision to peel it comes from a place of "obligation". He felt the need to peel it, since he sees it as something he "needs" to do rather than "want" to do.

(It would be a surprise that he would peel his orange for you. If he never was your boyfriend, he wouldn't see the need to do it, nor the care)

Karasu Tabito - he would

For Karasu, doing something as peeling an orange might be a natural thing for him, he sees it both as something he needs and also wants to do. How he would do stuff for his partner is a sign of genuine care and affection, rather than pure obligation.

The room was quite dark. The curtains closed— the only source of light is emitted from the tv. Both you and Karasu are having a movie night, and the atmosphere was peaceful and quiet. You didn't want bother him with this, but you wanted to try it out on him; though you have a rough idea of how he might respond.

You asked for an orange, and he looks at you with his eyebrows raised, and no question— he stands up and goes to the kitchen to grab one for you. You looked at him with a smile, perhaps already knowing this is how he'd respond. And he sits back on the couch, handing it to you. He notices your silence, and has an idea on what would come next. And thus, he pulled back his outstretched hand, already peeling the orange before you could open your mouth and ask which surprised you. After he peeled it, he gave it to you as if it was the most normal thing to do, and at that moment you are reminded of why you chose to be with him— eating the orange with a small smile.

(I feel like if you really mattered to him so much, he would literally read your mind. He is smart after all, he can read body languages)

Bachira Meguru - he would be more than happy to

For Bachira, this act of peeling an orange for someone is a natural act of love. He would see it as a natural thing to do and he'd do it, no complaints. If he hands you the orange, he might even ask you if you want him to peel it, wanting to please you with acts of services.

You could be spending some time together in the living room, watching a movie. Bachira would feel more excited about spending time with you rather than the Movie. Might even let you pick the movie, and if you want him to watch something in particular, he would watch and comment on each scenes, would gladly let you talk too and explain to him about stuff regarding the movie. He would switch from looking at the movie, then to you, then the movie then to you, having fun with the feeling of watching something with another person, which is quite different to what he is usually used to.

Now if you asked him for an orange, he would no doubt say "okay!" And immediately do your request. He wouldn't see it as something to complain about, but rather it is something that he wants to do for you since to him, you are special. It wouldn't take long for the orange to arrive, and he gives it to you, and to your surprise, he would even ask to peel it for you.

It makes you smile how you don't need to voice out your needs since he already does the things you want him to do without needing you to voice it out.

( I see Bachira as one of those types that will feel the need to make themselves feel needed by their partner in some way, especially if he views his partner as someone he doesn't deserve, or a person that cures him of his loneliness)

__________________________________

Hope everyone enjoys this scenario! Had fun making it, but had a hard time a little bit from portraying their characters while still staying true to their personalities.

[puck-luck]

a lesson in control | trevor zegras

warnings: daddy kink. HEAVY daddy kink. m!dom, f!sub dynamics. kneeling, throat training, face-fucking, degradation and praise, use of the word slut (twice? three times?), masturbation, VIDEOING oneself masturbating, sexting but it's one sided, locker room traditions in hockey being slightly misogynistic ("boys will be boys" hey what?), dirty talk, references to squirting, overstim, orgasm denial, face slapping ONE TIME, crawling, exhibitionism, spanking. THERE ARE PROBABLY MORE THINGS THAT I MISSED. SRY. i think i got everything else tho

summary: after breaking one of daddy's rules, tz reminds you who you belong to.

wc: 3862

“Do you think this is fucking funny?” Trevor snaps, crashing through the front door and throwing his gym bag to the side. “Sending me that shit while I’m at the gym with the team?”

He’s not exactly giving you the reaction you expected. You’d sent him that video during his workout on purpose, knowing that it would rile Trevor up and result in the fucking that you have been wanting since he left the house this morning. The thought of him all sweaty and lifting heavy weights, muscles bulging, had you all riled up. It’s only fair that he experienced the same thing– even if it meant you broke one of Trevor’s rules.

There are only three. 

If you misbehave or act bratty, Trevor gets to decide your punishment.

Don’t touch yourself without Trevor’s permission.

When you’re in a scene, you have to call Trevor ‘Daddy.’

So you might’ve broken two of Trevor’s three rules. 

The video had been worth it, though. Seeing his girlfriend spread out on the bed, two fingers buried in her cunt and whimpering for her Daddy? Forget it. You know that Trevor will go back and look at it during roadies, imagining that it’s your hand around his cock instead of his own. He may even memorize it so that he can close his eyes and pretend his hand is your pussy, wet and slick just for him. 

Which, to be fair, it always is. 

Unable to hold back a smirk, you blink up at Trevor from your spot on the couch. “Sorry, Daddy,” you apologize sweetly.

Trevor hasn’t stopped moving since he entered the apartment, so he’s easily able to reach out and wrap his fingers around your neck, squeezing slightly. “You’re sorry,” he repeats sarcastically, voice dripping with doubt. “You’re going to be by the time we’re done.”

His first kiss is harsh and angry. Trevor bites over your bottom lip before he forces his tongue into your mouth, filling the space and effectively gagging you before you can make much noise. Trevor draws you up from the couch and walks as he kisses you, eventually pushing you up against the wall of the living room. 

The thing you like most about the living room is that the wall has a beautiful section of windows that reveal the view. 

The glass also feels incredibly cold against your body, a welcome contrast against Trevor’s impatient hands. He’s tugging your leggings down already, pushing them to the middle of your thighs before he draws your sweatshirt up and removes it completely, leaving your top half entirely bare. Your nipples harden when exposed to the air– which makes them an easy first target for Trevor. 

“Keep stripping,” he commands lowly before grasping your tits in his palms. “I want you naked.”

Eager to comply, you nod. “Yes, Daddy,” you say breathlessly. 

He manages to keep a hold on your breasts as you move around, shedding your leggings and panties as quickly as you can. Trevor pinches your nipples hard. “You’ve been bad,” Trevor tells you. “What happens when you’re bad?”

“You punish me,” you reply. 

“That’s right,” Trevor says, a proud smile tugging at his lips. The smile doesn’t reach his eyes, but it’s clear that he’s plotting something already and enjoying the visual in his mind. “Bad girls get punished. Who gets to decide the punishment, sweetheart?”

“You do,” you say. There’s a slight pause before you can muster up his title in a tone that reflects what he called you– sweetly adding, “Daddy.”

“Smart girl,” Trevor praises before planting a soft kiss on the tip of your nose. He reluctantly takes his hands from your chest and brings them to his sides. He takes a step back. His eyes turn almost mournful, pitying you. “Smart, but bad. Daddy has to teach you a lesson, huh?”

You nod, keeping your hands at your own sides even though you itch to cover yourself up. You’re fully exposed and Trevor is completely clothed. Humiliation creeps up your neck like a blush. That feeling has yet to go away, even though Trevor has been domming you all throughout your relationship.

Trevor smirks again, his face contorting. It’s fascinating how Trevor can jump from emotion to emotion. He settles into his role seamlessly every single time, using his tone and inflections and expressions to manipulate you and remind you why he’s the one in charge. He tilts his chin up, quirking his eyebrows. “On your knees.”

You drop down, the hardwood floor digging into your knees uncomfortably. “How long?” you ask. Normally, Trevor gives you a timeframe. It keeps you grounded. 

The smirk on Trevor’s face grows. “As long as I want.” He holds a finger to his lips, a reminder that you aren’t supposed to talk to him when you’re on your knees. You’re something pretty for him to look at when you’re on your knees. It’s one of the ways that Trevor asserts his dominance over you. His evaluating gaze always makes you shiver.

Today, though, Trevor leaves the room. You can hear the shower start, then you hear Trevor step inside. Occasionally, you catch snippets of his hums and the song he’s singing. Since you can’t hear him all the time, you can’t estimate how long you’ve been kneeling. Your knees have been aching from the second you dropped down, so there’s no gradual pain to use as a timer either. 

Just to spite you, Trevor makes sure his shower runs long, too. He’s sure to tell you that when he returns.

“Sorry, baby,” Trevor says, ruffling his damp hair before collapsing on the couch and spreading his knees wide. Your eyes fall to his bulge, half-hard and covered by, but clearly unrestrained within, his Boston University sweatpants. He bounces one of his knees, the fabric covering his groin shifting with the movement. “Lost track of time in the shower. You know something about touching yourself, don’t you? It can be very distracting.”

Your eyes are wide when they snap to his face. Trevor looks smug. He throws his arms over the back of the couch and cocks his head at you, as if he’s catching you in the act of checking him out… as if you’d be embarrassed by something like that. Humiliation might raise the hairs on the back of your neck, but you never feel ashamed or sheepish when Trevor catches you looking at him. He’s sexy.

“You were very pretty in that video, baby,” Trevor says at a normal volume, as if you’re having a nonchalant conversation.”Really. I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

This is the reaction you were looking for when he came in– the slow, methodical domination that Trevor normally defaults to instead of the angry, reactive domination that appeared when he stormed through the front door. You want to shift to relieve your knees slightly, but Trevor will only add something else to your punishment if you do. You merely blink at him, a breath leaving you through your parted lips.

Trevor brings a hand to his mouth and rubs over his lips, sighing. “But… well, you know what happens when one of the boys gets a text from his girlfriend during a workout.”

You do. That was part of the motivation. Trevor doesn’t like to share, but he likes to brag. There’s a very delicate balance there and you knew what you had to do to make Trevor angry. If one of Trevor’s teammates sees that another teammates’ partner texted them, then the original teammate is allowed to look at that text.

“So imagine my surprise when I open my phone and McTavish sees my baby coming all over her fingers, asking for her Daddy.” Trevor sneers when he says Mason’s name, even though you know he’s glad it wasn’t another teammate, one that doesn’t already know about your sex life. 

A question arises in the back of your throat. It’s a heavy lump, hard to swallow, yet… you’re not allowed to speak like this.

Trevor becomes even more smug as he watches you remember that fact. It’s not really an official rule, but Trevor prefers it, and you want to be good for him. He’s pleased when you snap your lips shut and blink at him. “Don’t worry, little one. He couldn’t hear you. I had my headphones in. Good thing, too– I wouldn’t want anyone to hear how pretty you sound when you need Daddy.”

Your breath catches in your throat, but not because of the lump that rose up only moments ago. That disappeared when Trevor answered your question without even trying, like he can read your mind. No, your breath catches because he answered your question in the sexiest way possible.

God, you love when Trevor becomes Daddy.

Trevor tilts his head down, his gaze dark and prodding. It washes over you like an actual touch from your boyfriend. “You’re not allowed to touch yourself without asking me,” Trevor says. His voice becomes more and more like a simper as he continues to speak. “But you couldn’t wait for me, huh? Couldn’t even take the time to ask before you got all wet and needed to be full? What had you so worked up?” 

Sweat, arm veins, a natural musk, endorphins…

“Did you have a dream about my cock? I know you’d said you were sleepy before I went to the gym and that you’d try to take a nap while I’m gone.” Trevor nods to himself. “That must have been it. You woke up all empty after being so full. Poor girl just needs her Daddy.”

Hearing Trevor talk in the third person has you clenching down on nothing, suddenly feeling very empty. That’s not what actually had you worked up, but now… maybe Trevor’s right. It would drive you crazy to be so empty after experiencing Trevor’s cock. To have his length stuffed inside of you, filling you out, and then nothing? Oh, you’d die.

“Let me give you my cock, then,” Trevor says. He spreads his legs just an inch wider and beckons you with a curled finger. “C’mere, baby.”

Your knees feel ready to creak as you move to stand. You get one knee up before Trevor starts to shake his head and you freeze.

He holds his palm up flat, stopping you before you can stand. Trevor snickers. “Nuh-uh, I don’t think so,” he corrects, chuckling. “Do bad girls get to walk to Daddy? Stay on your knees.”

You blink up at him, cheeks growing warm at the thought of crawling to him. It’s so demeaning, but God it’s hot. You’d be kneeling right between his thighs at the end and you know what comes from that position.

Something Trevor started when you were just starting this dom/sub thing was throat training. Trevor knew you liked to have his hand around your neck, causing you to go short of breath. He applied the same logic and asked if you’d like to hold his cock in your mouth for a long time. You’d tried it, and it was fine, and it sparked a second idea. Trevor wanted your throat to hold him perfectly, for your mouth to be ready for him to take whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Now, he can fuck your face whenever he wants.

He can take whatever he wants.

You lower yourself down again, back onto two knees. Then, you lean forward, one hand a bit further than the other. You shift the opposite knee forward in a hesitant step, eyes rapt on Trevor. 

“That’s my girl,” Trevor coos, his stare raking over your figure. “Come get Daddy’s cock. I’ll fill you up.”

Another step, then a third. You’re moving to Trevor like he’s reeling you in, the tension taut as fishing line between your bodies. 

Trevor’s quick to drag himself out of his sweatpants. Your mouth is already open, accepting  whatever he gives you with a slack jaw. He fills you until his tip bumps the back of your esophagus, then he withdraws. 

You breathe through your nose and gag at all the right times, feeling the precum from Trevor’s cock mix with your saliva and drip down your throat with each swallow.

Trevor uses you for what he needs. He draws your head up and down on his cock, his hips occasionally twitching and thrusting like they have a mind of their own. “You know what’s– shit– you know what’s funny, baby?” Trevor asks, clearly affected by your touch and itching to regain control.

You hum around his cock, eyes drifting to his face. They’re shining with tears from all of your gagging around his base and Trevor curses again.

“Fuck, so pretty,” he says, taking the hand still thrown over the back of the couch and using his fingers to wipe away the tracks on your cheeks. “You’re so good at taking my cock, sweetheart. Making me feel so good.”

The hand on the back of your head grips your hair and rips you from his cock. 

You’re nearly eye to eye with Trevor, whose mirthful smile means trouble. 

“I’m going to come in your pussy.” Trevor’s voice is a near whisper. “And you won’t come at all.”

“What?” You demand with a jolt, caught off guard by his statement and forgetting your manners. 

Trevor’s hand strikes your cheek, branding your skin with the heated echo of his touch.

You’re stunned silent, jaw dropped and mouth open. 

Trevor caresses the hollow pocket of surprise on your face with his thumb. Trevor smiles down at you. “Daddy wants you to be quiet when you’re on your knees, baby, don’t you remember?”

You stare blankly at him. 

He continues to pet over your face, admiring your glossy eyes and rosy cheeks. His eyes even roam to your hair, a flicker of pride passing through his expression. He fixes a piece of hair, then taps your head. He quotes the short list of rules by which you abide. “Don’t touch yourself without my permission.”

You breathe in, preparing for him to continue. He taps your cheek and waits for you to nod. You do, after a moment. 

Trevor guides your head back down, towards his cock. “Then what?” He asks.

You open your mouth a little wider, spit pooling at the thought of licking up the precum that leaked from his cock while you were recovering from his slap. 

Trevor laughs, bringing your head to his tip and making the length jump between your lips. “If you misbehave or act bratty, Daddy gets to decide your punishment.” He brings your mouth down a little further, cock sliding against the flat of your tongue. 

The taste makes you feel like you’ve gone cross-eyed, relaxing into his touch. Sliding back into the throat training routine you’d created over the months, your head grows a little fuzzier and your body feels a little lighter.

Trevor pulls away again.

You don’t snap at him, but your eyes fall into sharp focus on his face. 

“Who am I, baby?” Trevor asks, winking at you. His mouth forms a proud curve.

“Daddy,” you reply, voice ruined from disuse. 

Trevor likes that. You can see how his jaw subtly twitches, tensing up. “Are you gonna let Daddy fuck your pussy right here?” He asks, then his eyes go over your shoulder. “For anyone to see?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you breathe out, sounding rough and awed at the same time. “Please, Daddy. Fuck me against the window.”

The smile that encompasses Trevor is purely rueful pride. How easily he can ruin you. “Because you want the world to see that you’re Daddy’s,” Trevor assumes, feeding you the words like they’re fact. 

You sear them into your memory. He’s right. Who else can do something like this to you? To you, what Trevor says is gospel.

“That’s why you sent that video,” he continues. He’s all-knowing. Smug, even. “You needed Daddy to remind you that you’re his little slut, right?”

All this nodding has you feeling like a bobblehead.

Trevor helps you stand, touching your hips and backing you towards the window. At the last second, he spins you around and presses your front against the glass.

“For everyone to see?” Trevor checks again, his voice soft for a second. God, he’s perfect. He’s the right amount of concerned, without leaving much room for argument. He’s still in charge here. He’s still punishing you.

You don’t even get to come, but you don’t care. You just want to feel him leaking from your cunt. Instead of kneeling again, you’ll stay like this if he wants you to, presented like an art exhibit for him to study.

You moan in relief as soon as his tip breaches your hole, bare and throbbing as he inches forward. He allows himself to thrust shallowly, stimulating his tip and denying you the full pleasure of his cock. 

Even still, you’re a mess.

Then he brings his hand down on your ass cheek, much harder than he’d slapped your face. Instinctively, you clench around him and your head droops. The glass window cools the skin of your forehead.

You’re not silent by any means. It’s like you’re unable to silence yourself– a broken dam. With each shallow thrust and each slap to your behind, Trevor makes you feel so good that you feel like you’re crumbling into dust.

“You gonna take my whole cock like you wanted to?” Trevor probes, kicking your legs a bit wider and pressing you into the glass. Your nipples are squished against the surface, restricting your movements. Trevor crowds against you, body warm and solid behind you. “Like you tried to pretend in that little video? When you whimpered and cried because your little fingers weren’t a match for my cock?”

“Daddy,” you whimper, a mirror image of yourself just hours earlier. You’re humming out the same soft pleas that spur Trevor on, that convince him to chase his pleasure.

“That’s right, baby,” Trevor praises. “Daddy’s cock, making you feel good, just like you wanted?”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes…”

Trevor spanks you again, the burning sensation of impact marking your body. “Why do you ever act up, sweetheart? I could’ve been fucking you like this all nice and making you come if you’d just asked me for permission,” Trevor simpers, teasing you. He speaks like it’s a big, heavy burden on him, this choice to deny your orgasm. He wants to give you an orgasm– a mind shattering, leg-numbing, shaking and squirting orgasm– but you just had to be bad. 

“Of course I’d make you ask again,” Trevor continues, his half-thrusts pointed. “You’d have to show me again how good you can be. You know I like to see my good girl.”

A strangled noise falls from your lips, landing on the floor like a bowling ball. Trevor knocks the wind out of you sometimes with his words.

“I want to show you what it would be like,” Trevor says. “Ask me, baby. I want to hear your sweet voice beg Daddy to come.”

Finding your voice and losing control of it like a helium balloon, you’re able to gasp out exactly what Trevor asks, thinking maybe, maybe if you’re good enough now, he’ll let you come now, too. “It’s so good, Daddy, I always need your cock,” you say between moans. “I never stop thinking about it. So good, please, Daddy. I need to come, I need to show you how good I feel, please let me come.”

Trevor moans and nudges his nose against the top of your spine as you speak. His seed flows from his body and fills yours in the midst of your testimony, the low and fucked-out grunts from Trevor making you that much more desperate and teary to come. His cum settles inside of you, warm and as good as godly nectar, in your mind. 

“I’d come, just like that,” Trevor tells you, speaking slowly. His voice is gravely like it is when he first wakes up. He presses kiss after kiss to your spine, working lower and slightly withdrawing from your heat. “And then I’d tell you that you can come…”

Just when you think he’s going to shift back into you, his length sheathed inside of you so much that your pussy brushes against his pelvis, and fuck you until you do exactly that–

Trevor’s softening penis leaves your pussy. He shifts his hips even further back, then touches your sides to spin you back around. He faces you and brings his hands up to cradle your face. With a devilish, con-man-like smile, Trevor stands his ground. “This is mine,” he reminds you. His blunt fingertips collect some of the cum that has started to slide down your thighs, unable to escape gravity. Trevor lifts his fingers to your mouth, the wet slick brushing against your lips. He makes no move to push past your teeth and press down on your tongue. He’s just dangling a carrot in front of your face, further reinforcing his control over you. 

“Yours,” you agree.

A grin plays over Trevor’s face. “Good. You just broke the rules to get Daddy’s attention. You needed Daddy to take care of you.”

You helplessly nod, preening under his touch.

“You’ve got my attention now, baby,” Trevor assures you. “And to prove it to you, we’re going to do one last thing. I’m going to sit on the couch and look at you, pretty girl. You’re going to kneel right here and let the cum drip out of you until you’re empty.”

You blink at him, feeling lightheaded. That’s before he paints his cum over your lips and ponders, “Kneeling in a puddle of my cum, you really are a slut.” 

A gush of his seed seems to leave you at the demeaning nickname. You clench again to keep it inside– what Daddy wants, Daddy gets. It can pool beneath you as your knees dig into the floorboards and bruise.

“Daddy’s little cumslut,” Trevor says with a chuckle. He shakes his head and backs away from you, returning to the couch and manspreading. He pushes his sweats all the way down to mid-calf, revealing his thick thighs and pretty cock entirely. “I should put that on a shirt and have you record that video again for me.” He wraps his hand around his soft cock, fisting it like he’s going to start pumping over the skin at any moment. “With your hard nipples poking through the fabric and those pretty words of yours, begging for your Daddy to satisfy you the way that you need.”

You drop to your knees and clasp your hands behind your back, hovering only slightly above the floor and only parting your lips to breathe. After all, you’re on your knees again, so you have to listen to Daddy speak.

“Or on FaceTime for our next roadie,” Trevor decides, evidenced by the way his cheeks dimple. “Yeah, baby, we’ll see how desperate you can get before I let you come. This time, you’re going to be so good that I make you come until the sheets are completely soaked.”

[hrtwayne]

Dress || Jenna Ortega

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Swift Best-Friend!Reader

Summary: Where Jenna hopes her best friend will finally see her as more than just a friend.

Note: Chapter inspired by Dress by Taylor Swift! (English is not my first language!!)

Warning: Mentions of alcohol consumption, mild jealousy, and a possible kiss!

MASTERLIST

Completely massive events were never your thing, even though you were aworld-renowned singer. Normally, you'd only show up for after-parties or if something truly important was happening. Still, being at the Met Gala after-partyalways turned into chaos-especially whenyou were the sibling of one of the biggest singers of the moment.

Being a Swift was like carrying a massive stone on your shoulders. Honoring your older sister's legacy was a heavy burden tobear, but you were undoubtedly proud of your work, and that was enough to make you feel good about it.

Your best friend's clingy and overly affectionate tendencies had never been a problem for you. Whether she was holding your hand or leaning against your waist you figured it was just because she liked being close to you. Or maybe it was because some people could be annoyingly inappropriate, which was truly unbearable at times.

Everything seemed to unfold smoothly until a man, roughly in his thirties, appeared at your table with an arrogant smirk and a glass of tequila in hand. Jenna, with her dark brown eyes, watched the scene with a deadly glare, tightening her grip on your leg.

"You know," the man started, "I thought you were really gorgeous and figured, 'I should ask for her number."

"Well, actually, I'm not much of a fan of tequila-or men, especially the ones who think money makes them superior," you replied, grabbing Jenna's whiskey glass and taking a sip.

The man widened his eyes before huffing quietly and walking away from the table.

After that unpleasant encounter, the rest of your night seemed to go smoothly-except for the part where Jenna wore a slight scowl on her face. You tried talking to her, but she just mumbled something and drank the whiskey frighteningly fast (she would definitely regret that in the morning).

A few minutes later, you felt a pair of warm hands brushing against the fabric covering your body. Jenna seemed lost in her own thoughts, pretending to pay attention to the table's conversation.

"Can you come to the bathroom with me?"Jenna whispered against your ear, sendinga mix of anxiety and confusion coursing through your body.

With a quick nod, you both made your way to the restroom. Jenna's hands remained fixed on your waist as the black door came into view.

The sound of the lock clicking made you furrow your brows. Jenna stood with an intimidating gaze, forcing you to step back until your body hit the tiled wall with a faint thud.

Her eyes seemed to trace every inch of you,focusing entirely on your crimson-painted lips.

Was she really about to kiss you? And would you kiss her back?

Jenna seemed very aware of what she was doing

"Did I ever tell you how stunning you look in outfits like this?" she asked, her hands grazing your waist over the fabric.

"Well, you mentioned it when you saw me at the entrance," you replied, feeling your cheeks flush. "But I wouldn't mind if you said it again.

"You look breathtaking in this outfit, sweetheart," Jenna whispered, her facenow mere inches from yours. "And I really, really want to kiss you."

The moment those words left Jenna's reddened lips, your knees nearly buckled. Her raspy voice and darkened gaze stirred unimaginable feelings with in you.

Your only response was to press your lips against hers, letting your hands wander freely over her body, inviting her to draw closer. The familiarity and novelty of the moment filled the air as your fingers tangled in Jenna's brunette locks, pulling her impossibly closer, while her arms tightened around your waist.

Your lips moved passionately, neither of you willing to break the moment. Jenna's hands slid further into your hair, while your hands traced the curves you were only now discovering

When you finally pulled apart, your eyes met, and an unspoken mixture of desirefear, and passion lingered between you. It was a moment loaded with the weight of years of friendship, as if crossing anuncertain sea and risking your bond felt terrifying

"I hope this doesn't change things betweenus," Jenna said softly, her eyes glinting with anticipation.

"It won't, Jen. Things will just take adifferent path," you reassured her, pressing a kiss to her swollen lips.

The comforting hum of the air conditioner mingled with the sound of your steady breaths, your bodies still intertwined. The sunlight streaming through the window cast small crystalline patterns on your skin, while Jenna's bronzed complexion contrasted against your own.

Jenna held you protectively, as if afraid you might slip away at any moment.

Minutes passed before a quiet groan brokethe serene silence. The soft orange rays were beginning to annoy Jenna, who cursed herself internally for not fully closing the curtains last night.

Fresh reddish marks adorned her back making Jenna stifle a mischievous smile.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you opened your eyes, their grayish hue catching the morning light. You felt Jenna's cold nose trailing along your neck.

"You can go back to sleep, my love. I justneed to close the curtains," Jenna whispered, pressing a kiss behind your ear.

You mumbled something unintelligible before shutting your eyes again. Jenna chuckled softly, wrapping her arms around your waist and snuggling closer to you

[threadbearsweater]

one warm day is all i really need | arthur morgan

When you find yourself taken in by a gang of outlaws, the last thing you expect is to grow sweet on one of them- and have the feelings reciprocated. Arthur Morgan doesn't have time for romantic nonsense, but a few memebers of the gang want to make sure that he gets to indulge in his obvious affection toward you. Tags: 3.9k words, an unlikely romance, meddling gang members (with the purest of intentions, one might suppose); female reader, alcohol use, smoking, emotional smut. A repost from a (regretfully) deactivated blog.

Arthur first notices your eyes on him one evening around the campfire at Shady Belle. He won’t accuse you of staring– Lord knows he’s been known to look at you with the same foolish grin you’re wearing now– but he tips his hat to acknowledge you. The heat in your cheeks is suddenly warmer than what the fire has already provided; your grin only grows until your teeth are showing, and you duck your head into your shoulder to hide. Arthur takes a long swig from his whiskey bottle and grimaces as it goes down. He hasn't had a drop of anything in days, and the burn takes a little while to grow numb to now.

“Think she's sweet on you, Morgan,” Sean says in his Irish lilt, giving Arthur an elbow in the ribs.

“Naw, she's lookin’ at you,” Arthur deflects, though he hopes he's wrong. He thinks he knows.

“She told me last week to keep my eyes on my own work,” Sean continues. “I really don't think it's me she wants, Arthur.”

You turn to whisper something to Sadie, who laughs out loud with her face tilted toward the stars. You dare a glance back at Arthur, who is, in fact, looking at you.

Maybe there's some truth to what Mary Beth told you yesterday.

“Arthur's been awful quiet lately.”

The sun shines through the trees and dapples the table where you're seated with bright spots of pale yellow. It's your third round of dominoes with Mary-Beth, and she's whooping your ass, as usual. You don't know how she does it, but each game you play, you're a little more privy to her prowess.

“You think so? I don't know him as well as you.” You hope it isn't obvious that your heart started beating a little faster at the mention of his name. It leaves you breathless.

“Oh yeah,” Mary-Beth continues. “He's been scratchin’ away in that journal of his a lot more, too.” She leans closer, conspiratorial, her eyes twinkling with the gossip she's about to share. “Karen said he went to town twice last week to have a hot bath. If you knew Arthur like I know Arthur, why…you'd know that's highly out of character for him.”

“But you said he'd been quiet. Is that unusual for him, too?”

She hums and purses her lips. “Well you see, Arthur isn't usually a man of many words on a good day. But it's been real bad lately. He don't even give John a hard time like usual.”

You ponder the dominoes for a moment and then make your move. It doesn't earn you any points, but at least you didn't have to draw. “What do you think the problem is?” you ask, nonchalant as possible.

Mary-Beth smiles. Big and bright and sparkling. “Oh, it's not a problem at all.” She lowers her voice and cups her hand to her mouth. “Arthur's in love.”

You gasp, then giggle behind your hand, and Mary-Beth follows suit. Hosea looks on and shakes his head, so you quiet down, reaching across to grab Mary-Beth's hands. “Who do you think it is?”

Her cheeks are tinted pink, and she looks around to make sure there aren't any ears to hear. Word travels fast around camp if one isn't prudent. “I think it's you.”

A thunderstorm rips through Shady Belle a little over a week later. Your little tent that you share with Sadie is ripped straight off its supports in a terrible gust of wind, and you and the others hightail it inside the house to take cover just as it begins to hail. There's quite a ruckus as everyone huddles inside, windblown and rain-soaked. A few of the men hold up lanterns to illuminate the darkness while you watch the lightning and feel the thunder shake the old bones of the house.

“Everyone just calm down,” Dutch calls, descending the stairs, wearing some ridiculous robe with his arms spread wide. “Are we really gonna let a little old thunderstorm keep us from getting a good night's sleep?”

“Says the man with a bed inside the house,” Arthur bites, rounding the corner from what used to be the kitchen, holding a lantern up high in front of him. “Dutch, you better allow these ladies to take cover in here for tonight, or I'll–”

“Or you'll what, Mister Morgan? Pray tell, what kind of man do you take me for?” Dutch's eyes are fiery as he stares Arthur down; a display of dominance. A veritable cockfight.

Arthur's jaw twitches, but he doesn't back down. “The kind of man I should hope would have some goddamn respect for his family.”

There's a tense moment or two where everyone is quiet, then Dutch relents. “Fine, fine! But I expect everyone out there pitching in to clean up in the morning.” He points at Arthur and raises his voice again. “That includes the other man with a bed inside the house,” he sneers.

Arthur shakes his head, then looks away only to catch sight of you, shivering in your wet undergarments, huddled close to Mary-Beth for what little warmth the two of you can share. For a minute, he forgets to breathe, then composes himself enough to cross the room.

“Come on in here. Get yourself warm and dry by the fire.” His hand on your elbow is rough but warm as he leads you toward the fireplace. You nod and look back at Mary-Beth, who shoos you away with a flick of her wrist and a wink; you notice that her teeth are chattering. Despite the humidity that hangs heavy in the air, the temperature has turned chilly with the storm.

Arms crossed over your bosom to preserve any shred of modesty you might have left, you allow yourself to be led away by Arthur. Dutch and some of the others head upstairs while Charles and Javier keep watch from the front porch.

“You alright?” Arthur asks. He covers your shoulders with one of his heavy winter coats, and you pull it around you, grateful for the weight and warmth of it. Another clap of thunder shakes the house and you jump. Arthur chuckles.

“You laughin’ at me?” you quip, placing your palms flat in the direction of the fireplace. You don't even bother to hide the grin you feel curling on your lips.

“No madam, I am not,” Arthur says earnestly, taking a seat beside you on the old wooden crate he's set up as a makeshift bench.

“Then just what do you find so funny, Mister Morgan?”

He scratches the back of his neck, looking into the flames. “Aw, I dunno. I'm sorry. It's just that you're…”

You bump him with your hip, unable to stop the giggles that bubble up from your chest. “I'm what?” you pry.

There's a clatter of something falling on the front porch, and Arthur uses it as a good excuse to get out of this hole he's dug for himself. “I better go see what's going on out there. Charles might need my help.”

“I'm what, Arthur?!” you call, to no avail. He's gone before he can see the proverbial hearts in your eyes.

The saloon in Rhodes is a little nicer than the ones you visited in Valentine, though it's a far cry from the ones you used to frequent in Saint Denis. Still, when Sadie and the other girls decide that it's high time you have a little fun in town, you throw on your best dress and let Karen curl your hair and even apply a little of the makeup you snagged from a homestead up north. For the first time in months, you feel like a proper woman. There isn't time to be melancholy about the past, though, when the boys start whistling and cat-calling upon the sight of you and the other girls.

“Aw, knock it off!” Sadie hollers. She's decided to dress up a little tonight, too, much to everyone's surprise. But she hikes up her skirts to hop into the wagon, calling for the rest of you all to hurry it up. “I've got a bottle of rum with my name on it that's waiting for me to come drink her all down!”

You catch the sunset on the way to town. It's dazzling over the meadows, all golden light and warm, blazing oranges and reds that settle into a brilliant pink by the time your reach the main road into Rhodes. You wish you could see Arthur's eyes, but he's got a handle on the reins next to Charles in the front of the wagon. You've seen him watching the sunset before; he always looks so peaceful those evenings at camp, and you often wonder what he thinks about in those few minutes before the horizon is painted in pastel hues.

Karen starts singing a song that everyone eventually joins, and before you know it, you're pulling up in front of the Rhodes Parlour House. You can already hear the piano and a few voices from outside; the sound of it stirs something in your soul that makes you long for the familiarity of home, but you quickly shove it aside in favor of the company of your new family.

“Madam.” Arthur's voice brings you out of your thoughts and back into the present, where he waits at the back of the wagon with his hand extended to you. You beam at him, and he feels dizzy. And when your soft hand fits into his, he straightens his knees so they don't buckle and betray him.

“Why, thank you, kind sir,” you say, lifting the hem of your skirts to step out onto the dirt road.

Arthur leans in, dangerously close to your ear. You can smell the whisky and cigarettes on his breath, along with the faint tang of gunpowder and hair pomade. “You sure do look nice in that dress.”

You demure and fan yourself with your hand. “Just how much have you had to drink already tonight?” you giggle.

“Ahh, just a little nip to take the edge off.”

“Mm-hm. Sure, Arthur. Whatever you say.”

The night starts off relatively calm, as most nights do. You and the other girls find an empty table to sit and pick up on the town gossip, and the men start a hand of poker. It grows loud and crowded sometime around midnight, and it's hard to have a conversation without shouting over the din of voices, the clink of glass bottles, and the slow drag ragtime music from the piano. The ambiance is charming and lighthearted, and there are even a few couples drunkenly dancing on the porch.

You push back in your chair and find that when you stand, you're a little more wobbly than you thought you would be. The alcohol has loosened you more than you realize, and you grip the table for support until you feel a firm arm around your waist. “Whoa there.”

It's Arthur, who has won the last round of poker and has come to check in on you and the other ladies. You're pulled tight against his chest for one fleeting moment, and you look up into his eyes. He, too, seems drunk, with his eyes gleaming and drooping at the corners, his smile easy and his cheeks flushed.

“My knight in shining armor,” you slur, pretending to faint in his embrace. He only pulls you tighter against him, both of his broad hands splayed across your back. You laugh, and he smiles.

“You weren't getting another drink, were ya?” he questions with a raise of his brow.

“‘m thirsty,” you whine, lifting your empty glass entirely too close to his face. It knocks against his nose, which sends you into another fit of laughter.

Arthur takes your wrist– gentle but firm– and lowers the glass away. “Think you need to drink something that's not whiskey,” he drawls. You can't help but watch the way his lips form around the words; the slip of his tongue between his teeth, the way his mouth turns up into the hint of a smile when you pout. Before you can think too long and hard about it, you lunge forward and kiss him. Hard and clumsy and impulsive. You don't give him time to react. You're far too involved in the kiss to notice, but the girls at the table behind you have all gone silent. Arthur slides his hand along the side of your face and presses his fingers upon the nape of your neck, kissing you back like he really means it. (He really does.)

You pull back suddenly, breathless and reeling, swiping the back of your hand over your mouth. You're still held firm in his embrace, but the playfulness in his gaze has been replaced with an intensity that makes your knees weak all over again.

“What'd ya do that for?” he asks.

“Could ask you the same thing.”

“Well, you started it.”

“And you finished it.”

“Oh, I ain't finished with you, yet.”

“That a promise or a threat?” Your pulse is thumping wildly in your ears.

“Ya know, they got rooms upstairs for that!” Sadie shouts. There's a ripple of laughter across the table. Arthur's hand on your cheek feels like a brand, his arm about your waist an anchor. The rest of the room comes back to you in a woozy blur, and you look around, a little lovestruck and a whole lot drunk. Arthur's lips at your temple make your eyes flutter shut, and the room fades to black as tIt'weight of you slumps against him. He staggers only slightly, but holds you firm, chuckling softly.

“It's a promise,” he whispers.

You come to some hours later. Your mouth is dry as the desert, your head feels like lead, your skin broken out in a cold, uncomfortable sweat. At some point, it seems you were covered with a downy soft blanket, and the pillow at your head is much more fluffy than the makeshift one you made out of a bedroll at camp. At first, you think you're dreaming. Then, you wonder very briefly if you're back at your childhood home in Saint Denis. You almost call out to your mother when you hear a soft snore from the other side of your bed.

The room spins when you turn your head, and you rub your eyes until Arthur comes into focus. He's sprawled in an armchair a few feet away. His arms are crossed over his chest while his chin is tucked into his chest. Off to the side, you spy his boots; his big toe pokes through a hole in his sock and you smile at how vulnerable he looks.

“Arthur,” you whisper, shifting slightly as you pull the blanket up around your chin.

He grunts and lifts his head slowly. He frowns a little at first, but when he focuses on you lying there, so close he could reach out and kiss you again like he did last night, there's a slow, easy smile that spreads across his face.

“Hey there, party girl. You feeling alright?”

You could kick yourself for all the giggling you've done around him lately, but you can't help it. He brings out something giddy and downright foolish inside you, so you toss a pillow at him and bury your face in the sheets.

“Aw, come on now. I'm just messin’ with ya.” He leans forward and rubs your head affectionately. “I'd say you were feeling pretty good last night.”

It's in that moment a white-hot jolt of sheer panic shoots down your spine. Quickly, you check to make sure you're still wearing clothes. Aside from your breasts being a little lopsided in the confines of your bodice, you're relieved to find that your dress is still intact and– more importantly– on your body. You dare another peek at Arthur and notice that his shirt is unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest and he's discarded his vest somewhere, but he, too, is fully clothed. Thank the good Lord above.

You must've said that last part aloud, because Arthur laughs. “Don't worry, nothing happened. Though it weren't for lack of tryin’ on your part,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “Thought I was gonna have to lock you in here like some feral cat till you settled down.”

Oh. Oh Lord. You try to recall what happened that led you to this room, but all that comes to mind is a lot of loud conversation, some dancing, a spilled drink across Sadie's lap, and Arthur's hand on the side of your cheek. “Oh…”

Now you remember it in vivid detail.

“Didn't know you cared for me like that,” he says. It's earnest and tender, a few shades less intense than the kiss you now recall, the one where it felt like he wanted to eat you alive right there in the middle of the saloon. Now, he thumbs your cheek and looks at you so fondly you swear your heart jumps right up in your throat. “I mean, I'd been hoping. Wasn't sure you was looking for a romance.” He huffs a short sigh, frustrated with himself. “Aw, hell, what am I saying? ‘Course you weren't. You're just looking to survive, just like the rest of us, and here I–”

“Shut up,” you say, taking hold of his hand and tugging him closer. He resists until you pull even harder, watching the fire in your eyes blaze to life. “You talk too much, Yankee.”

“I ain't no damn–”

“Kiss me.”

He's over you in an instant; you're pressed flat against the bed, completely and totally at his mercy. This kiss feels different than the drunken one last night. It's sober and honest, if not a little hesitant, as if he's holding himself back from devouring you wholly. The warmth of his body against yours takes your breath away. Or maybe it's the way his tongue laves heavy into your mouth, unashamed of how badly he craves the taste of you. You grip his hair at the roots and tug him down to kiss him harder, lifting your upper body to meet him until he presses down, his chest flush with yours.

Things get heated quickly.

His mouth moves across your cheek, down your neck, and he groans against your skin, rutting his cock against your thigh. You fleetingly wish that he had managed to get you out of that dress before he presumably tucked you into bed and passed out in that chair, because there’s a whole lot of fabric between you and him that really pisses you off right now. Arthur must feel much the same, because he’s bunching your skirts up past your knees while you’re fumbling with his belt buckle, desperate to feel him against you, inside you. It’s clumsy and crazed, rushed and rough, but you manage somehow to shuck off every last bit of your clothes and his until you’re breathless and so, so eager beneath him.

“Need you now,” you whine. You feel insane. Dizzy and dehydrated, impossibly turned on, every nerve ending on fire when his callused hands grip the fat of your thighs and open you to him.

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?” One of his hands slips between your legs to find you wet and swollen. He presses the pad of his thumb against your clit and pushes a finger inside you; the sound you make nearly has him finishing there on the sheets, so he wastes no time in getting himself as close to you as humanly possible.

“Never wanted something so bad,” he murmurs into the dip of your shoulder. He wants all of you– all at once– wants to fuse his hands against your skin and sink himself into you so deep that it would be impossible to tell where he ends and you begin. The heat from his body takes away what little breath you have left, his mouth on each part of your body building the buzz in your chest until you feel like you might just burst open. You grabbed at each other like it was the first and last time you might have this opportunity, as if you wanted more than what the other of you was able to give.

Considering the kind of life you’ve both led so far, it’s a good possibility that you might never get to do this again.

“Give it to me,” you plead, opening yourself further to him, fingers wrapped firm around the base of his cock. “Please.”

Arthur Morgan is a man of incredible strength and self restraint, except when it comes to a woman like you.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he takes you. It’s primal, sweaty, filthy, rough. Arthur pushes as far inside you as he can go, then pushes further when you beg for more. He cups your knees with slick palms and presses you open as far as you can bend; you tug roughly at his hair and bite down on his shoulder when the pleasure builds to a blinding ferocity. The wooden bedframe knocks angrily against the wall with each thrust, but you can’t bring yourself to care if anyone hears. You can’t focus on anything beyond the feeling of him filling you with every stroke of his cock, of the taut, corded muscle in his back and shoulders as you grapple to hang on as tight as you can. Your orgasm hits your hard and fast, and he encourages you through it, taking his time to give you long, controlled strokes. It’s as pleasurable for him as it is for you. “‘Atta girl,” he rasps, lips moving against your ear. Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle your cries, but he pulls it away and threads his fingers with yours, pressing it onto the pillow. “I wanna hear it.”

Your moans are what drive him over the edge.

He buries his face against the side of your neck, panting heavily as he comes, driving into you so hard that you can almost feel the mattress beneath you begin to sag under the weight. You cradle his head in your hands and link your legs around his waist, boneless and languid in the aftermath of your own pleasure. When he moves, you move with him, riding out the waves together until you’re both too tired to move another muscle.

Neither of you speak for a while. He lies on his back with an arm around your shoulders while you curl against him, tuned into his heartbeat and swirling little patterns into the hair on his chest. It’s comforting to feel him next to you, to watch his chest rise and fall as he steadies his breathing, to soak up the warmth of his skin against yours.

You’re the first to break the silence. “Did everyone else go back to camp last night?”

Arthur nods slowly. “Something tells me they planned all this.”

“Planned it? You mean…” You lift your arm slowly and flick your wrist to acknowledge the room you’re laying in. “This?” You lift your chin and grin at him. “Or getting us together?”

“Room was paid for before I even had a chance to ask if they had one,” he explains. “Think it was Mrs. Adler.”

You vaguely recall her shouting something about a room after you kissed Arthur last night, and you shake your head. “You complaining?”

He turns to his side, draping an arm across your hip. “Me? Never.” You’re suddenly pressed beneath him once again; from the looks of it, you won’t be getting out of this bed anytime soon. “Specially when I’ve got you here to help me keep warm.”

[s1lu3s]

INSPIRATION ISSUES.

warnings: suggestive content +18, masturbation, voyeur, fem!oc.

pairing: rafayel x y/n.

a/n: this is my first shot about him!! hope u like it <3

if you find any mistakes, pls tell me (english is not my first language)

comments and repost are appreciated <3

credits for the banner of mdni to roseschoices.

With Rafayel out of town in order to find some inspiration for several days, you stayed alone in the apartment you both share.

Bored and unwilling to do anything, tonight you especially felt very much in need of him.

However, he never let you know when he would be back and you don't want to bother him with your stupid and unimportant concerns.

You wish you had agreed to go with him, but your job as a hunter obliged you from doing so.

And you know you can't let Jenna, or any of your other teammates, down. Both, Rafayel and you know that your rigid morals prevent you from doing so every time he proposes such an escapade from your work.

You close your eyes, sink your head into the pillow and raise your hips as you imagine the same fantasy you've had with him over and over again this lonely week.

“Rafayel...” you murmur, squeezing one of your breasts and stroking your clit in slow circles.

You feel your fluids sliding down your thighs, your breathing ragged and erratic and your pulse rising higher and higher.

You imagine how he would do it if it was here.

Firstly, he would turn you around so that you would focus your attention only on him as he would play with your folds before delivering a single thrust and creating a torturous rhythm that would trigger an unstoppable state of frenzy on you.

You outline your own folds with one finger, which enters easily inside you because of the wetness you have between your legs. So you start to fuck your fingers in and out, feeling how your cunt is stretching them.

“Mph...” lascivious sounds burst from your lips as you change the rhythm of your fingers, curling them when they reach your walls and arching your back while you find that sweet spot that has your thighs trembling and put your eyes in blank while you hit it several times.

The warmth you radiate spreads throughout your body and you begin to feel a slight tingling sensation.

You are about to finish, when you hear a low grunt coming from the corner of the room.

You raise your head and notice a familiar figure sitting. Watching you.

“Oh, please don't stop for me. Go on, show me how much you have missed me these days.” Rafayel's voice is low and demanding, you even are able to catch that it denotes a lustful tone.

You obey. So you reassume your previous action, again directing your hand to the place between your legs, this time, turned, with your back on the mattress and staring back at him through the darkness. Your fluid always helping you to better slide your fingers through your folds, passing near by your needy clit and finally sliding into your walls.

In fact, you were closer for the orgasm you had been searching for. A couple of thrusts curling your fingers and moving them in and out, a thrust with your hips, and your legs begin to tremble slightly.

You squint, catching a fleeting glimpse of Rafayel holding a notebook and pencil and gazing at you.

“You know, these days I had gone looking for inspiration when I realized one thing. You are my source, the engine that gives life to my drawings.” His words are all you need to let yourself be carried away by the final wave of ecstasy. “A true work of art.” He mumbles and continues sketching strokes on the paper for a few more minutes.

For your part, you simply lie back and settle yourself better on the mattress, controlling your breathing and closing your eyes as you feel in the left side a slight movement.

You feel a subtle pressure on your shoulder and hip when he stands next to you.

“I don't think I'll have any more inspiration problems.” He assures you, kissing your hair and lying down with you.

[sapphicteadragon]

Link Click season 3 untranslated text

Hey yall! Since the subs on the new season of Link Click are ass (who would have thought) and also don't translate any of the on-screen text, I figured I'd just compile my translations of all of it in case anyone's curious.

These are all the texts from episode 1, as follows:

"Partner, let's play basketball together again tomorrow~" (the 啊 gives it a cutesy/friendly tone)

Top: But you do know

Bottom left: that once the contract is established, no matter whether you succeed, you will have no way of going any further into the future

Bottom right: After it is complete, your soul will dissipate, and regret will be to no avail.

Hmm... in order to do my utmost to save the things I treasure, what is there to regret!

Bilibili Message

"Ranxi Chronicles" The signing event will begin next Saturday at 15:00. Every person will have three minutes of interacting time, and must book a slot in advance to obtain a signature or drawing. The order is determined based on the on-site queueing order.

BILI SEARCH (these are the same characters as bilibili, which is a fun easter egg)

"How to become a comic artist" (search)

1: how do I become a comic artist? Suggestions from those in the profession

Not only must you have a grounding in basic skills, you must also unceasingly practice and learn. You can do this by drawing sketches, and practising tracing lines until your foundation in drawing skill improves.

2: How do I become a qualified comic artist?

You first must set your mentality straight and clearly set your objectives. Your objectives must be established on the foundation of a strong mentality. If you want to become a comic artist, there is no harm in first asking yourself why you have this kind of goal.

3: How to become a comic artist? The state of comic artists in the profession

This specialisation is not as bright and pretty as it appears on the surface. The living and working conditions are also not as satisfying as you might imagine; right now they truly are frugal. (the word used here means skinny/sparse) So, listen to my advice:

SKY5690: There's no future in it, you won't earn any money in the first place

RAIN1352: Run away fast

CAT7931: Haven't slept in 3 days

Shen San Shui (lit. sink in three waters)

Today I went to a comic con, and joined a signing event for my favourite comic artist. I was inspired in no small measure, and from now on I plan to advance courageously on the path of becoming a comic artist! Fortunately a demon girl-jiejie (jiejie means sister, but is also used to refer to an older female friend/acquaintance) helped me find something very important, and if it weren't for her, I definitely wouldn't have been able to muster the courage. But this demon girl-jiejie left something of hers with me, and I have no way of finding her. If anyone knows this jiejie, please contact me anytime!

Description: wearing a demon girl cosplay, around 160cm tall, shoulder-length black hair

Top: My sister was hospitalised again today, the doctor said

Middle: My sister's treatment costs are accumulating. If the investment path is good, and you choose the right one, then the path will naturally be magnanimous

Bottom: Today's profits are in. I rarely do anything luxurious, can't forget to reward myself with food and drink while rushing about~

V: Xun-ge, the profits you entrusted me to handle before have arrived in the account <3

X: Heavens, you're impressive

V: Hehe, next time I can try investing a little more, and can earn even more <3

"Sorry I couldn't get there yesterday, can we meet up again? I want to chat with you"

That's all for episode 1, there weren't any in episode 2 that I saw. If I missed any please tell me and I'll add them, and I'll keep an eye out for any text in the upcoming episodes!

[4linos]

behind closed doors

kim seungmin x fem!reader

synopsis/request: When you overhear Seungmin's parents' doubts about your relationship, you’re left questioning if you can ever measure up to their expectations until Seungmin’s support reminds you of what truly matters.

wc: 1948

It was an evening you had both anticipated and dreaded: your first meeting with Seungmin's family. The entire day had been a mixture of excitement and nerves for you.

Seungmin's parents and sister were very important to him, and you naturally wanted to make a good impression. Everything had started off nicely enough. His parents were polite and respectable, while his sister was vibrant and charming. They all seemed really friendly, which relieved some of the stress in your chest. However, there was an underlying pressure to appear as if you were the right person for Seungmin in their eyes. You wanted to show them how serious you were about him and the relationship.

Seungmin was his usual self, loving and fun, in stark contrast to the formal atmosphere you were trying to navigate. As the night went on, you tried to figure out a balance between being yourself and what you believed his family would expect from someone in your position.

You laughed a little too loudly at his father's jokes, became overly passionate talking about unimportant topics, and may have made a couple too many silly remarks. You didn't want to be too stiff or too serious; it felt like you were trying to draw a careful balance between demonstrating that you were polite and truly interested in getting to know them, while still allowing your personality to peek through.

But then came the time when you excused yourself to go the bathroom. You'd noticed a strange tightening in your chest, an almost unbearable sensation of pressure. Maybe it was the food, or it could have been the nerves. Regardless, you needed a time to breathe.

As you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, trying to settle yourself down, you had no idea that the thin walls allowed you to hear faint sounds on the other side. You weren't trying to eavesdrop; your mind was busy with your own ideas. But when the conversation you overheard started, it was like a punch to the stomach.

The words came through clearly, and they stung more than you expected. Seungmin's mother spoke softly yet firmly. "Do you think she's the one, Seungmin?" she asked, somewhat hesitantly.

You felt your heart speed up as his father spoke out, his tone condemning, "She seems so playful, too much so, don't you think?" "She doesn't seem to take things seriously." That was hardly the worst of it.

His father went on to say, "Seungmin, she is not marriage material. You need someone more grounded, someone who knows what it means to settle down.

Your throat tightened as the words struck you harder than expected. You wanted to run back into the room and interrupt, but your legs felt heavy, and your mind was racing to find a way to mask your pain. His mother continued, almost sadly, "She doesn't seem to be serious about you or this relationship. She seems too... young, too carefree."

Seungmin's voice came next, quieter than the others and almost protective. "She's just not used to...this," he explained. "She's a little different from what you expect, but that doesn't mean she doesn't care." His father was obviously unconvinced. "It's more than just caring, Seungmin. "She lacks the necessary maturity."

Then, maybe recognizing just how difficult the topic was for her brother, Seungmin's sister interrupted with more than a hint of impatience. "Mom and Dad, stop! She's great. You don't understand. She's like me; she's lively, warm, and kind. I really like her.”

It was comforting to hear someone fight for you, even if it was Seungmin's sister. You stood motionless, the hurt of their words still echoing in your chest. But you didn't have the courage to confront them right away.

What could you possibly say?

You tried so hard, probably too hard, to appear mature and serious, but it didn't feel like it was enough.

You stood in the bathroom for a while longer, feeling the weight of their judgment. You had tried to be someone you thought they’d want, but in doing so, you realized that you hadn’t really been yourself. You didn’t know how to process the idea that, maybe, you weren’t seen as good enough for Seungmin not by his parents, at least.

When you finally returned to the room, you knew something had changed. The air felt different. Seungmin’s sister, noticing your quieter demeanor, tried to shift the atmosphere by asking you more about your hobbies. “Wait, you like pottery?” she asked with wide eyes, an obvious attempt to get you talking.

"Yeah," you said quietly, trying to keep a light tone, "I've been getting into it lately. It's sort of relaxing." Her eyes sparkled with genuine enthusiasm. "No way! I've been doing pottery for several months now! That’s great!" She gasped, smiled warmly, attempting to lighten the mood even further. "We should definitely do something together. It will be so much fun! I can teach you some tricks; I'm very good at it."

For a little while, the connection you had with his sister managed to reduce some of the nervousness. Still, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched in ways you hadn't expected, and that something was wrong. Seungmin also noticed the shift in you. He kept looking at you, brow wrinkled, stare kind yet anxious. His eyes would wander between you and his parents, almost as if he sensed something was wrong, but he didn't push.

Dinner continued, but the lightness was gone. His sister made more small talk, and you tried to engage, but it felt forced. Every time you tried to speak, Seungmin's gaze lingered on you, looking for answers he had not asked for. His parents, while being respectful, seemed to fall into silence after their earlier talk. You couldn't help but feel like an outsider in a space that you had hoped would feel like home.

You told yourself that you were overreacting. Maybe it was all in your head. But every time Seungmin's parents spoke to you, you felt judged, as if you hadn't proven yourself in their eyes. His sister, sensing your uneasiness, attempted to change the subject as much as possible, but the shadow of their words hung over you.

When the evening drew to an end, Seungmin led you to the door. You were calmer, almost withdrawn. You didn't want him to know how much it hurt, yet the disappointment persisted. As you grabbed for the door handle, Seungmin's voice broke the silence, softer than normal.

"Are you alright? You've been unusually quiet recently." You smiled, pretending everything was alright, but the weight of the evening hung heavy on your chest. "I'm fine," you said, but neither of you found it believable. "Just... tired, I guess." He didn't press any more, but his eyes were gentle and concerned, indicating that he had observed the change in you. "If you need to talk... anything, I'm here," he said softly, his fingers brushing over yours. You nodded, trying to smile, but it was hard to shake the feeling that you weren't enough, that you would never be enough for his family, no matter how hard you tried.

The cold breeze as you stepped into the peaceful night air did little to relieve the pressure in your chest. You strolled beside Seungmin, his arm brushing against yours in a way that used to comfort you but now only increased to the gap you felt between yourself and what had happened inside. The drive home was quiet, with the hum of the engine filling the gaps between the silences. Seungmin was still looking at you, his eyes flickering back and forth as if he wanted to question, to comprehend, but didn't want to push. His hands clutched the driving wheel tighter than usual, and the stress was evident. You could feel his anxiety, but you were not yet ready to talk. You weren’t sure how.

When you arrived at the apartment, he parked and sat for a time, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. "I know you're not okay," he continued, his voice lower than usual. "Whatever happened tonight, please tell me. I'm here. But you don't have to if you aren't actually ready. You paused, unsure where to begin, but the weight of the overheard conversation, judgment, and unsaid expectations pressed down on you, threatening to spill over. "I don't know," you said, your voice trembling. "It's just hard, Seungmin. I tried so hard to fit in, to prove that I am... enough for you. But it seems like nothing I did mattered. They say I'm too childish, too carefree, and that I can’t take things seriously." Your voice caught, and you looked away, suddenly feeling exposed.

Seungmin's stare softened, and you thought you noticed a glint of frustration in his eyes, not at you, but at the situation. He reached over, softly squeezing your hand. "You are not too much of anything. I adore you for being who you are. I apologize if they made you feel uncomfortable. That is their problem, not yours.” You struggled to hold back the tears that threatened to flow, but they fell regardless.

The irritation, the hurt, and the overwhelming sensation of not being able to measure up all spilled out of you in an instant. Seungmin wasn't trying to stop you. He just sat there, holding your hand, allowing you to cry. His thumb traced small circles over your skin, the simple act offering more comfort than words ever could.

"I just don't want you to feel like you have to change," he said after a moment, his voice quiet and steady. "I understand they can be difficult. But I love you for who you are. I have never wanted anyone else. And you don't have to fake or change to make people see it." You sniffled and looked up at him with hazy eyes. "What if they never see it?" What if they never realize I'm serious about us? about you?" "They will," Seungmin replied confidently. "It may take time. And while they may not understand it right now, they will eventually see what I see. And in the meantime, all that matters is what we see in each other.”

You took a long breath, hoping to settle your rushing thoughts. Seungmin was right. The weight of his family's expectations should not be entirely on your shoulders. You weren't perfect. You didn't meet their expectations. What mattered most was that Seungmin saw you for who you were and loved you despite, or perhaps because of, your differences. "I'm sorry I've been so distant tonight," you said, wiping your tears. "I just didn't know how to handle all of it." He smiled tenderly, moving a stray strand of hair away from your face. "There is no need to apologize for how you feel. You don't have to explain your emotions to me or anyone else.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the weight of the evening slowly lifting as Seungmin's presence settled you. You eventually turned to him, giving him a faint, sincere smile. “Thank you. For everything. I just don't want to disappoint you."

"You could never disappoint me," he continued, his voice firm and confident. "You're everything to me. And I will always stand by your side, no matter what." It wasn't a solution, and it wouldn't solve everything quickly. But it was enough to know that, in Seungmin's eyes, you were enough. And maybe that was all you truly needed to hold onto, at least for now.

The night wasn’t over, but somehow, with him beside you, it already felt a little lighter.

//

masterlist 📩

[writingwisterias]

hope this isnt off limits but how would eras leon react to their partner being into ddlg?

Hi!

I have no problem doing this for you! I hope you like it 💕 I'm churning these out as fast as I can lmao...I'm dead from work but almost to my holiday 🥺

Warnings: NSFW, Ddlg, Fluff, MDNI

AFAB!Reader

RE2:

I actually think he would settle into this role easily, like it sort of makes a routine in his life

He would be embarrassed at first just with the idea and worried if anyone saw but eventually he would settle pretty quickly

I think he would lean more towards getting you the thing you would want like teddies

Less likely to punish you even if you break the rules he's given you because he caves easily

In terms of the use of daddy I think he would freak out a bit at first, never letting you see it because it would almost feel like you are aging him and the world is already doing that so he might be a bit reluctant

He's never thought he would be into something like this but he ends up actually liking it and it fit really well with the both of you

RE4R:

He would love the idea of being able to take care of you and provide for you in a safe place

I think he would also enjoy coming home and seeing what you have done whenever it's colouring or just being cosy on the couch

He would also shower you in love and affection very quickly. All the money he earns goes to bills, food and you.

I think he's more of a quiet observer, so he just enjoys being in the living room watching a film as you sit next to the coffee table drawing etc

He prefers watching your favorite films and shows. He will say they are bad but secretly he loves them

Huge on praise Kink, all you have to do is bat your eyes at him and he's dragging you to the bedroom with a raging hard on

At first the use of Daddy would shock him and take a while to get used to but then he would fall into the role naturally and actually refer to himself as Daddy

Infinite Darkness:

LOVES IT

Like he's all in straight away no need for further questions

He loves spoiling you but becomes firm if you break his rules

Has raging hard on's all the time with your innocence.

Often Feels guilty about it but you always seem up to pleasing him so eventually he doesn't get guilty anymore

Doesn't let you in his office because you always end up distracting him but somehow you always end up in there

When you do enter let's just say you will be shooed out with the promise of a red ass if you don't do it quickly

He will tease you as you cuddle and watch films or TV shows. Playing with your clit under the fluffy blanket you insisted on laying over the top of the both of you

Enjoys your whines of protest and how they eventually turns into begs for daddy's touch

Damnation:

Definitely becomes more strict in terms of you following the rules he puts in place but always makes it up when he does have to punish you

Your little doe eyes always help you get your way with him

Lazy at sex, prefers if you are so needy and do most of the work. Until you get all whiny and upset that you can't cum he'll step in then

He's away a lot more, but always at random times so he'll make sure to have meals prepared for you and labeled in the fridge. Trusting that you use them and don't forget

He will call you if he's away but if he can't he'll always make sure to send you a text

RE6:

Neither of you actually have a conversation about exploring this dynamic between the two of you it just happens naturally

It works though and Leon enjoys it as it gives him something else to focus on

Especially so after the events of the game, he pretty much lives through the events of raccoon City again and doesn't even seem phased

Until he gets back

You notice the change in his attitude and see his sad eyes. Deciding in your little brain to try and help him out

He finds it cute how you bring him your favourite teddy and cosy up to him, allowing him to thread his fingers through your hair

You'll try your best to not be needy but that only upsets him further because that's his favorite part

Your constant need for his attention

Vendetta:

Since he's not in the right frame of mind I don't think he would be as interested in the idea

He can barely take care of himself

I think the dynamic would only work during sex

It would come out to play before, during and after sex but beyond that it would have to be hidden if he's having a bad day

Sometimes when he's drunk he'll play into it a bit more, he's looser and forgotten whatever was bothering him

He would be gentle still during these times, probably loosely refers to himself as Daddy just for your sake

Feels bad that it's been washed away and he's not doing a good job at providing for you in this manner

Still spoils you rotten though

Death Island:

Doesn't like the idea of having children he's too old for that now

But you? He loves taking care of you

He wouldn't even let you work, he's got more than enough savings to last you living this life style comfortably

Prefers it if you didn't spend his money lavishly but then you are just his cheeky little girl so who's he kidding

Sex is great because you are just so willing for it

He doesn't have to worry about erectile dysfunction for a while that's for sure

Accidentally refers to himself as Daddy in public if you are meeting friends one too many times

It's just become a natural habit now, he doesn't mind though. You seem to get more embarrassed than he does

[rutobuka2]

I've been wanting to ask for a while but never was brave enough to. I'm not a very good artist myself but whenever I try to do a comic by the second panel; my art, mind and hand are all worn out from doing one panel.

How do you keep your panels and art style so consistent throughout the comic?

hi!! thank you for being brave to talk to me! I really enjoy discussing technique!

I think comics seem simple and easy to make, but they're a looong process.

👉First of all: start small. like, ONE page small. TWO pages, etc. just tell one joke, or one kiss, etc. it'll make the entire process less daunting. but do think of the beats of the story like...

1- character A is doing a thing 2- character B makes a comment 3- character A gets embarrassed

/ end

something simple, but you can cut up each little beat into two panels if you like, or just keep it at 3 and explain more with the dialogue.

👉for the drawing part, you should really start with a really ugly basic sketch to outline what kind of dialogue and story progression you want to make on each page.

this is a sketch of page 11 of my Bunny Crossing comic:

as you can see, I put a lot of focus on drawing the more delicate moment where Bilbo notices Thorin remembered the comment, so I just actually drew his face in detail there. But the rest was just enough for me to know later where each character is, or if I needed to draw a background, where the dialogue should go, and such.

👉divide your work into days. if it makes you exhausted, you can take one entire day to draw the rough sketch. Then, another day for the dialogue and speech bubbles. Then, another day to actually draw the panels and the more polished sketches of each character. Then, another day for the lineart. Then, shading. etc.

👉try drawing grayscale first. Don't add colors until you're sure you'll have the energy to finish it! It'll get you used to the process, you'll iron out any errors easier.

👉consistency comes from the process itself. I try to be careful while drawing the sketches for my panels, because a good sketch can help you so much in the long run!

👉look for reference on other people's work! manga artists and western artists have loads of footage of themselves drawing online, you'll get inspired for sure!

I hope this helped a little bit! Do respect your own rhythm! 💖 also, if it doesn't help, not everyone likes to draw comics, and that's ok! It IS a very repetitive process. static illustrations are amazing too, and I envy the skill!

[dying-isnt-good-for-your-health]

an Adopted/Acquired Early Au!

Ages!

Damian: 8-ish months old

Duke: 4

Tim: 6

Jason: 8 (Almost 9)

Cass: 9

Dick: 14

Bruce (If I do this au again): 26

(Info about the Au, Duo images and without the yapping under cut)

Duos because individuals would take a while

(I added another Dick + Cass so it takes up less space + its my favorite part of the drawing)

Basically, most things just happened earlier than canon (Except Dick's parents' death)

None of the kids are vigilantes, other than Dick, who is still Robin.

Jason got taken in at 6 and when Dick was almost 12. The whole thing with the batmobile and tire jacking stayed the same, except its even wilder from Bruce's perspective because the person stealing his tires is a 6 yro.

Tim isn't technically adopted, since both his parents are alive, but he stays over whenever they're away or if he wants to, which is most the time

Duke has only been there a few months, and his parents getting Joker gassed stays the same. He doesn't have his powers yet

Damian got dropped off by Talia at about 3 months old, I don't have much to say because he is an infant

Dick went through the first few years of being Robin as normal, then Jason showed up, and Tim started staying over, followed by Cass a year later, then Damian some months later, and lastly Duke

Cass got picked up soon after running away, she was often babysat by Barbara during the first few months.

Bruce has 6 kids by 26, he is juggling being a dad, being Batman, and being 'Brucie', all while some people he went to high school with are still in college.

[esamastation]

fanciestgeckofella: desmond transmigrates into liu qingge

(This is not that, sorry, but I do have a snippet where Desmond transmigrated into Yue Qingyuan which I don't think I ever posted, so, have that one instead.)

-

First thing to go through Desmond's mind is something along the lines of, Oh fuck, here we go again. Next is complete and absolute bafflement. Because he's pretty sure he's supposed to be dead right now.

That alone is very confusing. Then there is… this thing.

[Welcome to the world of Proud Immortal Demon Way! This System is designed to guide you as you go about your existence in this world. Operating under the guiding principle, You Can You Up, No Can No BB, this System hopes to provide you with an pleasant user experience!]

Desmond blinks at the floating screen in front of him. It… doesn't exactly look like any kind of Animus screen he's ever seen - it actually kind of looks like it's from computer from pre-2000s or something, with blocky grey boarder like something he's seen in old TV shows. No Animus programmer would be caught dead using aesthetic like that. Right?

… Well, actually. He could totally see some retro-loving techie liking it. Not Rebecca, though, she's a futurist through and through, but if she'd been into the old style Window XP or something, it probably wouldn't have taken much effort for her to install some sort of theme - aaand that's completely beside the point.

It's an Animus. He's in the Animus again… somehow. Hm.

"Um," Desmond says out loud, and clears his throat. His voice is weird, different from how it should be. Not that unusual, in the Animus, that, but it feels… more than just having an ancestor transposed over himself. Man, they must've upgraded the Animus a lot while he was, uh… "I'm… aren't I supposed to be… dead?" he asks slowly and feels a bit silly doing it, because he's clearly still around, and yet…

[You have indeed died! Your consciousness has been transferred, and your role has been bound: Yue Qingyuan, the Sect Leader of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect.]

… Okay, that's a bit different, but he can almost understand it. Consciousness transfer, role bound, that's probably new term for running around in your ancestor's skin. Yue Qingyuan, that's his ancestor this time around then. Cool. Sounds Chinese, which is interesting, Desmond didn't know they had any family there, but hey, Rebecca did say he had ridiculously low pedigree collapse, so that would mean his ancestry spread pretty far, right?

Ezio did have a Chinese student, Shao Jun, so, some pre-existing connections there. Maybe few generations down the line, they became bit closer. Rubbing a hand over his face and finding some of those familiar markers he shared with Altaïr, Ezio and Ratonhnhake:ton - full lips, aquiline nose, high cheekbones… Desmond nods to himself. Yeah, yeah, seems about right.

And yet there's still something just a bit… off.

"Okay," he says, drawing a breath. "I'm still kind of stuck up on the being dead part. Did you reboot my DNA or something? How am I here being, like, a living - or at least a thinking - person?"

The System window seems to consider this for a moment before answering.

[Your consciousness was captured from your dead body and transferred into your new role.]

Oh.

Desmond squints. "Captured how?"

[Your consciousness was captured from your dead body and transferred into your new role.]

… helpful.

So it was the Grand Temple - the Grand Temple did something? He'd been digitised like Clay and Juno, maybe? Okay, yeah, cool, that makes sense. Not sure how well he likes it yet, but hey, he's around, he's thinking, maybe sorta-kinda living and breathing - it's a step above from not… doing those things. Yeah. He can do this. "Nice. And who's Yue Qi-qin - how do you say that name, again? Who is he?"

[Yue Qingyuan is the Sect Leader of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, also known as the Xuan Su sword.]

Desmond hums in understanding, eying the window, waiting for more. Nothing more comes, so he says slowly. "… Okay. And what am I supposed to do with him? I mean. What are we after here? Another piece of Eden, or… what?" he asks, folding his - folding Yue Qingyuan's - arms. "What is the mission status?"

[…]

That's all he gets. Literal ellipses, before the System window slowly flattens and disappear, leaving him blinking at empty air.

"… O-kay…?" Desmond mutters, making a face. "That was weird."

He'd never been left hanging in the Animus before. Not cool. The whole initialisation here process was a bit weird, really. Almost feels like they'd left him with an automated answering machine version of the Animus UI, or something. Was he even talking to an actual person there? What the heck. Why resurrect his consciousness at all, if they're not going to tell him what he's supposed to do here? Even Vidic didn't leave him completely in the dark…

Who resurrected him anyway? The Assassins or the Templars?

Uncertain, Desmond glances around for some sort of guidance or clue. The place is nice, and the graphic quality has gone through some incredible upgrades, like, damn. You'd almost mistake it for reality. But there is something seriously off about this. Not just the weird answering machine Animus, but… everything, really.

It doesn't feel like any Animus he's ever been in either. Usually when he starts out, it's as a passive viewer in his ancestor's memory - it takes a bit before he gets control and even then it's sorta not… not full control. Desmond is more used to being the passenger to his ancestor's actual driver. There's never not a moment where he doesn't feel like a second wheel on a unicycle.

Here, it's just him at the steering wheel, just him on the pedals. There's no other mind, no framework of another life - no shell of a person that once was. It's just him, in another body. Weird.

The terminology used was weird too - nothing like the lingo Rebecca or Shaun would've used. You can you up? No can no BB? What does that even mean?

Desmond rubs at his chin for a moment - baby smooth, not even a stubble - and then shrugs his shoulders and goes to get up. Might as well take a look around and try and figure out the limitations of this version of Animus. And it's not like he knew anything about Altaïr or the others either, not before getting the synchronisation up and running, so… better get started with that.

It's still a bit weird though. Usually he gets thrown into a cut scene first to get started with. Waking up in someone's - frankly rather fancy - bedroom is new. Ezio not counting.

Oh well.

-

And then he walks out under dressed and scandalises all the disciples on Qiong Ding Peak.

Alas that is as far as it got really, but the idea of Desmond as Yue Qingyuan is still weirdly dear to me.

[lkblackham]

Had the image of a half human, half Qunari baby pop in my head and got some good therapy practicing drawing cute babies.

Being the child of a nurse-midwife, I have witnessed many births and many different kinds of new dads (on video, to be clear - my mom didn't drag me around to births in person). And so, it is my belief that Emmrich would definitely be the weepy type of new dad. I love those dads.

My personal fanfic headcanon stuff that may or may not be cringe, I make no apologies:

1) Qunari kids, much like goats, do not fully grow their horns until they hit puberty. Which is definitely for the best, because a) birth OUCH and b) can you imagine a hyperactive 2-year-old running around with what amounts to two giant spears attached to their head?

So for the first 12+ years of their life, they just have cute lil forehead nubbins that still really hurt when they headbutt you during a tantrum.

2) It's a girl. Because we all know that Emmrich has strong Girl Dad energy.

3) Atash and Emmrich had a really tough time with names - both given names and surnames. Atash isn't particularly attached to her surname (Laidir) and so was totally fine with just 'Volkarin' for their kid. Emmrich was insistent on including 'Laidir', however, as he felt very strongly about Atash's heritage and story sharing an equal part with his in naming their daughter. So she's got 2 last names - one for Nevarra and one for Rivain. She can pick whichever she prefers, or neither, or both. What matters is that both are there to begin with.

This line of thinking also, obviously, complicated the given name. It's really hard when you're pretty certain this is going to be your only kid, and you're from two very different cultures with their own ideas about names, AND you have a rather tragically long list of people you love who have passed on and deserve to have a child named after them. Not to mention, both of you have names you just personally like, saved away in your head just in case you ever did have a kid to name.

In the end, Atash and Emmrich came up with a compromise, for which they really hope their daughter won't resent them in the future: they gave her *four* names. One for a family member, one for a fallen friend, one for her Qunari heritage, and one that's just hers and no one else's.

So, all together, it came to:

Lobelia Elannora Lace Nazay Laidir Volkarin

It's. It's a lot. Atash and Emmrich both acknowledge that. But it felt wrong to not include those tributes in their daughter's name.

Besides, this just means she has a lot of options, right? Right? Right. Definitely.

(They also acknowledge that Lace Harding would think this was absolutely ridiculous and laugh at them over it, but that mental image being there is part of why they did it)

And yes, of COURSE they chose a flower name.

4) Manfred is really friggin excited to get the chance to watch someone grow up and maybe teach THEM some things himself. Emmrich is really friggin excited on both a personal and academic level to raise his daughter alongside his ward, teaching her about spirits while Manfred learns from her about mortals.

Manfred's also a really great diaper changer because he doesn't have a nose and he's not squeamish about literally anything.

(Not that Atash or Emmrich take advantage of this.)

(Often.)

BY THE WAY, VERY IMPORTANT NOTE: I do not believe that the default Happy Ending for everyone is having kids. In another universe, Emmrich and Rook are just as happy teaching Manfred how to be a person and mage (or not, if Emmrich became a lich) and going off on their own kid-free adventures. YOU MAKE THE CHOICES THAT ARE BEST FOR YOU and fuck what the tropes say.

This is just *my* fantasy cringe fluff. You do you. ♥️

[n0vazsq]

Eternal | LS2 x Reader

pairing . . . immortal!logan sargeant x time!traveller!reader

summary . . . Every era you went, you could never shake off the weird feeling of forgetting something, that is until you met Logan on one of your trips

request . . . no!!

word count . . . 1.4k+

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . ok whyd this make me tear up a bit?? ALSO NOT MY LAPTOP FINISHING BATTERY WHILE I WAS MID EDITING

. . . The world spins differently when you travel through time. Everything blurs, twisting and contorting until all that’s left are distant moments, fragments of memories that slip through your fingers like sand.

You’ve never been sure why or how it happens, why you can’t remember where you’ve been or who you’ve been with. But one thing is always certain; no matter where you go, no matter what time you fall into, you’re always drawn to him.

Logan.

You’ve seen him before, in so many lives, in so many eras. In one, he was a gladiator; rough and fierce, blood staining his skin as he fought for his life.

In another, he was a knight, riding through the misty hills of the medieval countryside, his eyes full of honor and determination.

And in each of those lives, he was the same. Yet, you never remembered him, not truly. You met him again and again, but each time, you forgot. And it hurt.

The first time you saw him, he was standing in a gladiator’s arena, towering and proud, his muscles flexing with every swing of his sword. You were just a noblewoman, standing in the crowd, your heart caught in your throat as you watched the fight unfold.

There was something about him, something magnetic, that pulled you in. Your gaze never wavered from him, even when the crowd cheered and screamed. And when the battle ended, when his opponent lay defeated at his feet, your eyes met. There was a flicker, an unspoken recognition.

But by the time you saw him again, in another life, you had no memory of that first meeting. You had no memory of the way his smile made your heart race or the way his presence seemed to calm the storm inside you.

All you knew was that you were drawn to him, inexplicably and irrevocably, like a moth to a flame.

And so it went, through every era, every life you lived. In each new world, you forgot him, but he never forgot you.

It was in a quiet little town during the early 1900s that you met him again. The fog had rolled in from the sea, clinging to the cobblestone streets like a heavy blanket.

You had come to this town searching for something you couldn’t quite name, as you always did. Maybe it was peace, or love, or the pieces of your past that you had forgotten in the chaos of time. But when you stepped into that small coffee shop, you saw him.

He was sitting by the window, a cup of coffee in his hands, his fingers curled around the warm porcelain cup. He looked out at the street, his gaze distant, like he was waiting for something.

Or someone.

You walked in, and when your eyes met his, a jolt shot through your chest. There was something about him, something familiar, but you couldn’t place it. He stood up as you walked toward him, his expression softening as if he had been waiting for this moment, this exact moment.

"Hello," he said, his voice warm and inviting, his eyes studying you carefully. "You look… familiar."

"I do?" you asked, your voice hesitant, unsure.

He smiled then, a gentle, knowing smile. "Yes. I don’t know how, but I feel like I’ve known you for a long time."

You tilted your head, trying to make sense of it. His words, his presence, they felt like pieces of a puzzle you hadn’t yet solved. But you couldn’t deny the pull, the magnetic force that seemed to draw you toward him.

And so, you sat with him. The conversation flowed effortlessly between you two, as though you had known each other for years. You laughed together, spoke of dreams and desires, the hopes that flickered inside your hearts. You could feel yourself falling for him, even though you didn’t fully understand why.

But there was something in his eyes, something that hinted at a secret; a hidden truth he hadn’t shared with you. You wanted to know more, to learn what it was that tied you to him, but you couldn’t. He was always so careful, so guarded.

It wasn’t until that night, under the soft glow of the moonlight, when he pulled you into his arms, that he finally spoke the words you had been waiting to hear.

"I’ve been looking for you for so long," Logan whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I’ve lived for centuries, hoping that one day, I’d find you again. And now, here you are."

You pulled back slightly, searching his face for any sign of doubt. "Centuries?" you asked, your heart pounding in your chest. "What do you mean?"

His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. "I’m not like other people," he said, his eyes darkening with a weight of unspoken words. "I’ve been alive for longer than I can remember, and each time we meet, you forget me. But I never forget you."

The statement hit you like a wave crashing against the shore. Your heart raced, a whirlwind of emotions tearing through you. He had known you all this time, across every life, and you had never remembered him.

"I-I forget?" you whispered, your voice trembling.

He nodded, his gaze soft and filled with longing. "Every time you travel, you lose your memories of me. But I never forget you. I can’t. I’ve loved you in every life, in every world, and I will keep loving you, no matter how many times we meet."

Tears welled up in your eyes, a mixture of sorrow and joy, of love that spanned across the endless expanse of time. "Logan," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I don’t understand… how is this possible?"

"I don’t know," he admitted, his voice raw with emotion. "But I know one thing for sure. I love you. And I will love you for as long as I can."

You closed your eyes, allowing his words to wash over you, to fill the empty spaces in your heart that you hadn’t even known were there.

You leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand grounding you, reminding you that, despite the distance between your lives, you were never truly apart.

And then, without another word, Logan leaned in. His lips brushed against yours, soft at first, tentative, as if he was afraid that you might disappear the moment he touched you. But you kissed him back, deepening the kiss, letting the world fall away as you lost yourself in him.

His hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, as if trying to erase the years of separation between you. His kiss was hungry, desperate, as if he had waited lifetimes to be with you.

And in that moment, you understood; understood the gravity of his love, the depth of his soul’s yearning.

When the kiss finally broke, both of you were breathless, your hearts racing. Logan rested his forehead against yours, his breath shaky.

"I don’t know how much time we have," he murmured. "But I’ll take whatever moments we can have together."

You nodded, your fingers gently tracing the lines of his face, memorizing every detail, as if you might forget again. "I don’t care about time," you whispered. "I care about this. I care about you."

For a long moment, neither of you said anything. There was nothing left to say. The silence between you was comforting, like the calm after a storm, as you both allowed the weight of your love to settle over you.

But just as quickly as the peace came, it was broken by the familiar pull of time. You felt it; the tug in your chest, the sensation of everything shifting. You looked up at Logan, your eyes wide with panic.

"No," you whispered, as if the very word could stop it from happening. But it didn’t.

He pulled you into his arms one last time, kissing you deeply, desperately, before the world around you began to blur.

"I will find you again," he whispered, his voice barely audible as the world twisted, and you were torn from him once more. "I promise."

But even as the world spun out of focus, you could feel the warmth of his love, the promise he had made. And no matter where you went, no matter how far time took you, you knew that Logan would always find you.

Because love, true love, couldn’t be lost to the currents of time.

It was eternal.

 taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa ,, @httpsdana ,, @paucubarsisimp ,, @justaf1girl ,, @awritingtree (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

[meanbossart]

ASK COMPILATION #385032: Shape-shifting genitals, mouth-mashing skillsets, who taps out first in the bedroom and the 17 different types of meat this guy eats.

I TRIED TO MAKE THIS A BIG ONE. Thank you everybody for your patience!

The truth of the matter is that I need one dramatic light-source or I will perish. HOWEVER...

Yeah, they seem the type to leave it purposefully ajar for the thrill of it. As well as the excuse to bring hell down upon anyone caught trying to steal a peek.

YES, actually! I've had the concept for a comic or two that's precisely about interactions they've had while younger. Comics take a lot of work, and there's a LOT of things I want to do, but that is definitely in the plans.

Yes! Or rather, as a shapeshifter, I believe she doesn't bother with them 99% of the time, possibly never, even though she has the habitability to form them if she so wished. The Orin DU drow knew was always doll-like in appearance when nude, and he did not particularly mind it or fantasized about anything different.

I believe this is both a preference in Orin's part (and across many shapeshifters, if I recall correctly) as well as a strategic choice.

And thank you so much!

[MORE BELOW THE CUT]

I don't know, kissing isn't that hard LOL I think they're pretty even-leveled in technique but Astarion is the tonguier one.

ALL IN DUE TIME, MY FRIEND, ALL IN DUE TIME...

Maybe 😊 🤫though I'm not sure how useful his powers would be in that context.

That said, Indeed! The irony of this match isn't lost on anyone. I'm sure Astarion would have some thoughts about the convenience of it.

I know this is more of a jokey message, but I don't think Astarion would be cool with that sort of thing, and DU drow most definitely wouldn't ask 😂

Whatever works, as he would probably say!

Astarion got drunk through DU drow on occasion while he still fed on him, yes LOL I don't care if that makes sense or not, It's a hysterical concept and definitely factual in my canon. To be fair as well, DU drow is a huge man and has to drink a LOT to get properly wasted - so Astarion wouldn't have to consume a whole lot from him to get on a similar level!

Post a few particular post-campaign events, Astarion gets drunk through strangers' blood that were either piss-drunk already or have been fed alcohol forcibly by the pair.

He likes thick stews, braised pork, and meat-pies the most. Don't ask me when or why I've decided this but he likes octupi as a every-once-in-a-while treat - I think he mostly enjoys the experience of eating it more than the taste.

For drinks, he likes beer, red semi-dry wine, and mead the most. He also likes a GOOD whisky - none of the copper-coin garbage they serve at most Inns.

Hi! Incredible question. DU drow can go indefinitely but when he stops he knocks out in record speed. There usually comes a point where Astarion flops over and lets him do all the work.

You know how, shortly after you find out about it, if you tell Astarion that you're frightened of your origins you get that really heartfelt bit of dialogue about how yourself and him are so much alike, and how he feels similarly powerless before Cazador as you do toward your father? Well, I never got that, because DU drow was too busy squinting into the horizon and contemplating the logistics of his conception which prompts Astarion to, essentially, say something along the lines of "Okay, if all you want to do is discuss your dad's cum I'm out"

So, like that.

They didn't smash in the graveyard! I'm hoping to either write a short thing about it, draw something inspired by how the scene went down in my head, or, ideally, both!

That IS kind of a wild comparison but I'm guessing you know about my origins, LOL.

Not... Quite. I'm reluctant to say more because I would like for it to be a surprise that I bring you all through art (even if you can make a pretty accurate deduction based on what has been said so far) but suffice to say that this is the flipside to the Bhaalist DU drow AU.

I don't think I could find the time 😭😭😭 but that's a hysterical idea and I would gladly mash together a bunch of clips if someone else was willing to highlight them!

Hello and thank YOU for humoring me in my nerdy little forays!

I hadn't heard about Model/Actriz but I had a little sneak-peek and, indeed, this might just be right up my alley LOL

It's hard for me to remove these characters from their intended universe so I have a difficult time picturing what they would listen to if the options didn't all sound like string-y bardcore music. I'm sure there are more genres to speak of in DnD lore, I'm just ignorant of them!

That said I do have some thoughts about which of them even enjoy music at all.

REALLY enjoys music: DU drow, Jaheira, Misc, Karlach, Wyll.

Modestly enjoys music: Gale, Shadowheart, Minthara, Halsin.

Generally doesn't enjoy music: Astarion, Lae'zel.

No notes just canonical character information being shared

I forgot what this one was in reference to for a moment and I was so aghast.

I really, really hope you weren't hoping for me to give you work-out advice because both, if you were, you've come to the wrong man.

But if you're just wondering about lore here, I think it's a solid 50/50. I think he's predisposed to a really well-built physique because Daddy Bhaal said so AND he's incredibly active and incidentally does a lot of manual labor. If he's had a few too many sedentary days in a row (which is rare) he pretty much has to tire himself through at-home routines or he goes a little cuckoo-bananas as well.

And thank you for being interested in my little freak!

He's pretty thoroughly desensitized, and thinks far too little of Orcs and half-orcs to be intimidated by them, even when that lack of fear is downright stupid. He's not impervious to fear, however, despite how hard he tries to be - Myrkhul, Grym, the giant Steelwatch, the brain, and even Cazador AFTER he snatched Astarion away were all encounters that made his blood run cold to varying degrees. I think it takes an unfamiliar foe for his sweat to run a little cold.

(Ironically, Raphael had no such effect on him.)