#obvious modeling choice

[the-god-of-hellfire]

"The Think Tank"

[theribbajack]

"Now, the vow will be honoured, and my Lord brother's soul will return."

Radahn stans keep winning, but I personally am in Miyazaki's walls rn

[dreamcrow]

re: paul do we know what would have happened. if pal had still had his own body.

[teafiend]

Kim Jae Uck as Choi Yoon (and the heinous Mo Tae Gu 🥵🤢😑😒) is still my favourite visual(s)/aesthetic(s) and performance(s) of his.

He was just so scrumptious as Choi Yoon, the brooding 🥵 and traumatised hot priest 🖤❤️‍🔥 And made even more so by having him stand next to the fairest-of-them-all, Kang Gil Young 😍🥰🤩☺️

Yet, whenever he strutted down the church aisle in the show like it was his own personal catwalk, I was in stitches 😅😂🤣 Just so inadvertently funny 😄

The show has many overt comedy but it was these moments of unexpected hilarity which endeared it to me ♥️

(I really don’t think some of those funny moments were wholly intentional, but given my weird sense of humour, they made me laugh)

[chiisana-lion]

Wwhy is it so over for you duckie

gonna be honest w u for a sec mimi i. cant say ive been liking the sasakoi anime very much 😭 like its Nice but im just overall pretty disappointed in the production quality

[prommytheus]

i want to do the on model vs headcanon challenge as well i think. anybody have ideas for characters?

[unproduciblesmackdown]

speaking vaguely of "what the hell? my christmas wish ft. joy & cheer?" & "what the hell? if i can go 'i'm kind of like mister macabee in that one situation in this one situation'" but that i'll absolutely take it in both cases....fun development over the years in what my Dream Self does in situations that can be Just Like Waking Me like when dream me gets excited about something niche or shares some trivia, though not too rarely dream me can be expressly larping / a whole other role / just kinda general videogame pov. but where it's a classic dream self response to stress/threat enough figure is Launch A Physical Attack Then lmao but then also it's become more of a phenomenon like my dream self does pipe up in looking out for oneself but also in the showing em what for Verbal pushback in response to dream figure who is being an asshole about whatever. i'd call him a such-and-such but i'm a nice guy

[dustpages]

PornMum 2

Six months went by and I found myself struggling with my daily life, my routine got too monotonous to be enjoyable and exciting, almost boring. I missed the thrill of my performing life, the rush of adrenaline knowing my fans would watch me in a new role. The way they would fantasise about me stroking themselves to ejaculate on their monitors. 

I longed to have my colleagues desperate to perform with me,  to feel their hands grabbing and kneading my body. I missed being the centre of attention, being wanted and admired by thousands of men and women. 

Nothing seemed to work no matter how hard I tried to get myself busy with different activities.  I ended up bored at home, questioning my current life and wondering if I had made the right choice by retiring.

The worst thing personally was not being able to vent my frustration and annoyance to my son. I loved him, but he was still too young and inexperienced to be considered my partner in the real sense. 

There were things I would have loved to try with him that I knew weren't appropriate for someone his age, and that made me feel guilty and annoyed at the same time. Not just related to our sex life but also in the most mundane activities like going out at a pub or shopping were complicated if not impossible with him. 

I've always loved him dearly and since we got to become bed partners, I got to love him even more if possible. But the crude reality was, that I craved more, not just physically but mentally as well. I needed stimulation and variety in all aspects of my life.

So, I ended up spending most of my days at home boring myself to death. Venting out my frustration and annoyance at him was out of the question, I was his mother first then his partner.  

Guilt and remorse were eating me alive, I required finding a relief valve before going crazy and ruining my bond with him.

Considering I had plenty of spare time I found myself browsing the Internet more often than not. A dear friend of mine, who had worked in the porn industry in Europe, named Cho Miyeon had made the news to be one of the first actresses to have opened an OnlyFans account.

I got intrigued and opened her page, scrolling through her posts and pictures. 

My jaw dropped when I saw how many subscribers she had gained in so short a time and the amount of money she made every month, not to mention how happy and free she seemed to be. She had found a way to balance her private and public life without the pressure of meeting deadlines imposed by producers or directors.

I pondered over the idea for the entire night and day. Could I do that? Would people subscribe to my content?

The answer was obvious, I had millions of fans following me online, and people would pay gladly to see me naked and masturbating, having sex with other men or women.

I didn't have to wait for scripts or schedules, I could create my own content. The idea thrilled me, it would allow me to have more freedom than I ever had before. I could shoot videos in my private studio and post them on the platform.

I imagined the thrill of being paid monthly for my work and having people masturbating on my videos. 

The thought alone of being desired and admired made my heart race and my panties wet. I made my decision that very day, I was going to open an Onlyfans account and let my fans have access to exclusive content, and maybe even let them pay extra for custom requests. 

The excitement I felt was overwhelming, I could record the video while my son was a school and post it by the time he got back. 

To burst into the scene of OnlyFans, I pondered contacting Miyeon to come over and have her as a guest star for my debut. I knew people would be ecstatic to see us two together. She was known for being bisexual, and we could shoot a threesome with a hot and handsome model.

I texted her on Instagram and waited for her reply anxiously, hoping she would accept my invitation.

The next morning my son woke me up with a kiss on the lips. I smiled and welcomed him between my thighs. We had a quickie before breakfast and he headed to school. I checked my messages and found hers waiting for me.

'Of course, let’s discuss the details.' 

I beamed in happiness and called her immediately. We talked on the phone for a bit and decided on the theme of the scene and that she would arrive in two weeks. I thanked her and hung up, feeling ecstatic at the prospect of going back to my roots, albeit not as I expected. 

For the next couple of days, I got busy setting up my profile and contacting a model to join us for the scene. I opted for a very good-looking boy in his early twenties with a promising future ahead of him. He accepted my offer willingly.

Once I had all the logistics sorted, I began preparing for the big day. I scheduled my son to be away from home for the day, telling him he had to visit his grandparents. He was reluctant at first but gave in once he heard I had a surprise for him if he went, I promised to call him later to inform him of my plan.

I contacted the model and told him to be at my place the day before the shoot. I wanted to test him before recording a scene with Miyeon, there were too many odds that could go wrong.  

At nine o'clock the doorbell rang, I opened it and was struck by how hot and gorgeous the model was. He had the je ne sais quoi that made him appealing. He bowed politely. " Nice to meet you, Mina."

I invited him to enter. " Come on, Manuel there's no need of being so polite."

I led him inside and showed him the room he could use to change and shower. Once he was comfortable, I proposed to grab a drink and have a chinwag before going down to business.

He was a true flatterer, praising me and telling me how much he enjoyed watching my movies and that he was honoured to work with me. I listened and laughed at his compliments, enjoying the company.

" I've asked you to come here a day before the actual shooting before I want to see how well we can perform together," I asserted. We've never done anything together, so I gotta make sure everything is perfect for my debut.

He smirked. " No problem here. It means I gotta have my way with you twice, just a fool would complain." 

I  chuckled and touched his arm. " Get naked, sweetie." 

He stood up from the sofa and peeled his clothes off. I watched his every move, admiring how toned and muscular he was. His cock was long but the most impressive thing was its thickness, it looked huge and juicy, I could imagine it stretching me wide. 

I licked my lips in anticipation, salivating at the mere thought of his cock filling my mouth and pussy.

Manuel was quick in disrobing me too, he took off my clothes expertly, leaving me nude on the sofa. 

He knelt between my legs spreading them wide and ran his fingers up and down my inner thigh teasing me.

"You are so soft." he murmured. " So smooth."

He lowered his head and traced circles on my mound, teasing my clit with light touches. I squirmed under his touch wanting him to dive into my folds and lick me properly.

" Please." I moaned.

He chuckled and stuck out his tongue, swiping it from my hole up to my clit in one swift motion. He repeated his actions a few times before settling on my nub and sucking it.

" Ahhh!" I cried out as he devoured me hungrily, his mouth and tongue working on me like a magic spell.

I reached down and fisted my hand in his hair, urging him to continue. He moaned in pleasure from the slight pain and increased the tempo of his ministrations. 

"Oh god!" I moaned. I was already so close to reaching an orgasm. I felt my body giving into the pleasure.

He sensed I was near and grabbed my hips pulling me closer to his face, sucking on me with more fervour.  

I whimpered and clutched his hair tighter, unable to control my moans. My legs began to shake and my toes curled.

He growled into my flesh as I started squirting. " Ohhhh!" I screamed out, coming violently into his mouth. My orgasm was so strong that I felt my vision blurring momentarily. He licked up all the liquid dripping from my slit.

My body trembled as he continued licking me softly, bringing me down from my high. I released his hair and collapsed backwards on the sofa.

Manuel stood up and positioned himself in front of me. " Are you ready to ride this beast?" he taunted, holding his dick and stroking it. 

I nodded eagerly, reaching out to grab his shaft. I leaned in and licked his head, tasting his precum. I opened my mouth wide and swallowed his length, sucking him hungrily. My hand reached down to rub his sack.

" Mmmmm, you taste divine." I hummed around his member, my throat relaxing and accepting more of his girth. He held my hair and controlled the tempo, pumping into my mouth.

I moaned from the feeling of his dick hitting the back of my throat, it was so thick that it stretched me wonderfully. He picked up speed, fucking my face roughly. 

My spit dripped down my chin as he penetrated my mouth mercilessly. His movements were fast and shallow, making me choke on his length.

" Fuck yes, suck me like a good whore." he groaned. I obeyed him and sucked him greedily, eager to please. My throat constricted around his head as he slammed into it.

He let out a strangled cry and released his load down my throat, shooting ropes of hot semen into me. I gulped it all down and licked his dick clean. He pulled out of me and patted my head. 

I smiled and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, removing the remaining spit from my chin. " How was that?" I asked him.

He grinned widely. " Amazing." he complimented. " You are a great cocksucker."

I laughed and kissed him passionately. " Thanks, now bend me over and fuck me." I requested.

He obliged, turning me around and pushing me on all fours. My body was still recovering from my previous climax and I knew the next one would be even stronger. I braced my palms on the armrest of the sofa and waited.

Manuel lined his cock to my entrance and pushed in. I screamed in delight from the feeling of being filled so deliciously.

 He began thrusting, pushing me further on the sofa with the force of his thrusts. 

" Ahhh!" I screamed as his length penetrated me deeply, my muscles squeezed around him trying to prevent him from exiting me. He didn't relent though, slamming into me brutally and hitting my G spot perfectly. 

"You're so fucking tight." he moaned, his breath coming out in pants. His hands held my waist, keeping me still. His hips slammed against my buttocks.

" Harder, baby." I urged him.

His thrusts became more aggressive and violent, making me scream at every penetration. 

" Fuck!" he growled, his cock pulsing inside of me. " You make me wanna cum."

" Do it." I demanded. He grabbed my hair, arching my back and making me go even deeper. He released my ponytail and grabbed my tits from behind, kneading them roughly.

I felt myself nearing my climax and I rubbed myself on his cock. " I'm gonna cum!" I screamed. 

His thrusts turned erratic. My body shuddered, my pussy squirted out all over his shaft and my inner walls contracted around him, my toes curled in pleasure. " As we agree, you are not allowed to cum inside of me" I made myself clear in the middle of a torrent of moans and screams.

He didn't answer me verbally but his hips stilled and he pulled out of me, releasing himself all over my back in thick white ropes of sperm.

I collapsed on the sofa panting. " That was great." I praised him. He panted above me, his chest rising and falling rapidly. 

We rested for a while, recovering from our exertions before parting ways, he grabbed his things and left for his hotel. I went to my room and took a shower, calling my son afterwards.

"How are you, baby?" I asked. 

He sounded ill, he sneezed and coughed before uttering a single word. " Not so good mum, but I can manage myself."

Another cough interrupted him and my worry rose. I knew him well enough to understand he wouldn't tell me if something was bothering him. " Where are you?" I insisted. " If you aren't feeling well, I can pick you up."

" Mum, don't stress it." he replied. 

I  sighed, feeling frustrated at not being able to do anything for him. " Alright, I'll trust your judgment. Call me if you need something. And don't forget to take your medicine." 

He huffed but promised me to do as told and hung up. I stared at my screen with a mix of emotions, worried about him and sad he wasn't at home. I knew it couldn't be helped, but it still made me feel bad. I decided to focus on the upcoming day, hoping Miyeon would distract me from my thoughts.

I slept soundly and woke up early the next morning, eager to prepare everything for the day ahead. I made sure all the cameras were working properly and the lighting was good, I didn't want any mishaps on the first day. 

I had already sent Miyeon the script of the scenario, she had studied it thoroughly and was aware of what she had to do.

I dressed in the outfit I had chosen and styled my hair accordingly. I paced nervously waiting for them to arrive.

Manuel showed up first, greeting me warmly and wishing me luck for the scene. He changed into his costume and came back wearing only a thong. I salivated at the sight of his bulge, eager to have him inside of me once more.

Miyeon arrived ten minutes later, looking stunning in her outfit. She hugged me tightly. " Long time no see!"

I reciprocated the hug. " I know, I'm glad you could come." I replied. " I've been missing you." 

" Same here." she answered. " But we'll catch up after the shoot."

I nodded. " Let's get started then." I led them to the living room and explained the scene.

Scene is a big word to describe the three of us indulging in a threesome, exploring each other's bodies with hunger and passion. 

" Keep going, you are so deep." I urged. " Don't stop."

Manuel slammed into me from behind, his cock hitting my cervix every time he bottomed out into me. His hands gripped my waist tightly, keeping me still.

I whimpered at his ministrations, his thrusts were relentless and merciless. His sack slapped against my butt with every penetration, making me feel naughty and slutty. I squeezed his dick with my inner walls.

" Yes!" I shouted. " Like this! Faster!"

His hips snapped against my backside as he increased the speed of his thrusts, fucking me like a wild animal. He grunted in pleasure from my tightness.

Miyeon watched us avidly, her eyes shining brightly with desire. Her fingers played with her clit drenching her thighs adorned with black stockings. 

I had no idea when I started cumming, the only thing I was aware of was that it didn't seem to stop.  I came over and over again, squirting all over his length and my thighs.

" Remember not to cum inside." I reminded him. 

" Alright, I'm gonna use that pretty mouth of yours to cum." he responded. 

He pulled out my cunt and turning me around penetrated my mouth. I welcomed his length gladly, eager to swallow his load.

Miyeon came closer and reached between his legs, massaging his sack and stroking his perineum. His thrusts stilled suddenly. " Ahhh!" he shouted as he erupted into my mouth, flooding me with his salty seed. I swallowed it all greedily.

Manuel pulled out of my mouth and put Miyeon between his arms, lifting her and impaling her onto his dick. She moaned at the feeling of him entering her.

I watched them in awe, their bodies fitted perfectly together. She bounced on him with ease, using his shoulders to push herself up and down his length. 

His hands cupped her breasts and squeezed them roughly. She cried out in pleasure and threw her head back, letting her brown locks flow freely on her back. I licked my lips imagining how delicious her body must taste.

Her movements became frantic as she neared her climax. She scratched his shoulders and dug her nails into his flesh. 

" Yes, cum for me." he encouraged. " Squeeze my cock with your little pussy."

She came quivering in his arms,  screaming out his name. He kept thrusting into her, prolonging her pleasure. I came again from the sight of them, rubbing my clit and imagining being in her place.

Manuel lowered her to the floor in a variant of the missionary position. He drove into her forcefully, not stopping for even a second. He fucked her ruthlessly, chasing his climax. 

Her breasts jiggled from the force of his thrusts and she moaned loudly. Her fingernails clawed at his arms as he pounded her like a machine.

" You are going to make me cum!" she cried out, her legs trembling uncontrollably. 

He growled at her words and increased the speed of his hips. " Fucking do it." 

Miyeon came screaming, her muscles contracting around his dick. He let out a final grunt and shot his load all over her belly.

I applauded them and they laughed, still panting from their exertions. " Thank you." I expressed my gratitude. " You've been amazing."

They thanked me in return and we all got cleaned and Manuel bid his goodbye, leaving me and my friend alone.

I heard my phone ringing from the kitchen where I left it to charged. I had 14 missed calls from my father and a few from my mother.

"What the hell Mina." my father shouted through the phone. " I've tried to call you nonstop."

I  was confused and scared at the same time. " What happened?" I asked, dread creeping up my spine. 

"Your son." he stated. 

A chill ran through me at his words. I felt as if I had been punched in the gut, my lungs refused to expand and breathe. " What? Tell me!" 

" He has pneumonia." my dad said gravely. " Your mother took him to the hospital when he passed out in the garden."

I felt dizzy and disoriented, tears began to stream down my face. " Is he fine?" I asked. " I want to speak to him."

" He is sleeping right now." he told me. " He'll wake up tomorrow probably."

I sniffed loudly. " Tell me what to do." I implored him. " I'll drive over to the hospital right now."

"No, Mina." he refused firmly. " The fewer people are in the hospital the better it is for your son. I'll keep you updated on his condition."

I thanked him and hung up, sobbing openly. I felt a pair of arms encircling me and collapsed against them, letting them comfort me.

" Don't worry Mina." Miyeon soothed me. " He will recover. You'll be with him in no time."

I clung to her desperately, seeking solace and reassurance. Miyeon was a pure angel with me during the night, she cuddled me to sleep in her arms.

As the sun beamed Miyeon drove me to the hospital, I couldn't bear to be apart from my son anymore. We entered the room and found him sleeping, looking pale and frail.

My father stood up from his chair. " Go ahead." he told me, offering me the seat. 

I sat next to the bed and took my baby's hand in mine. " I love you." I whispered in his ear. " Always remember that."

My mother joined us in the room shortly after. She brought breakfast for everyone and we ate in silence. 

After a while, my son opened his eyes slightly, smiling at seeing me next to him. I kissed his forehead and caressed his cheeks.

" Hi, mum." he croaked weakly. I shushed him, telling him to save his energy.

" Hopefully your last 24 hours have been more fun than mine." he commented with a dark huff, noticing Miyeon.

I chuckled. " Well, it depends on how you define fun." I answered mysteriously. " Do you want to meet my friend?"

" You are making him speak too much, leave the room." my mother reprimanded me. 

Shamefaced, I left the room along with Miyeon, who was amused by the situation. We chatted for a bit and eventually, she said goodbye to me, promising to keep in touch.

I returned to my son's room, sitting next to him and talking softly with him, careful not to exhaust him. He was discharged from the hospital two days later. We returned home and he was confined to his bed for a week.

I spoiled him rotten, doing whatever it took to make him feel better. 

One afternoon he woke up and found me scrolling through my phone, I had taken him in my bed to stay close to him. He looked at me curiously. " What are all these notifications about?"

I had uploaded the video of the threesome on my OnlyFans and since then my phone has been bombarded with notifications and messages.

" Just some fans." I dismissed him. 

He looked unconvinced at my answer. " Give me your phone." he demanded.

 I handed him my mobile and he unlocked it. " Why do you have this app?" he questioned me, referring to the Onlyfans icon.

He tapped on it, opening the app,  his eyes widening in surprise. " You made an Onlyfans account."

I was caught red-handed, I hadn't anticipated that he would be interested in my phone and check on my apps.

" That's correct." I affirmed. 

He browsed the app focusing on the comments sections.  I winced inwardly knowing they would be explicit. I could read the surprise in his eyes when he scrolled through the comments. 

" These guys want to fuck you." he concluded. 

I laughed at his statement. " That's the main purpose of the app."

" So why are you on it?"

I took a deep breath, preparing for a fight. " I got bored staying home and doing nothing all day." I explained. " This allows me to perform without the pressure of a director or producer."

He closed the app and looked at me gravely. " Have you shot scenes already?" he asked me, sounding hurt.

I nodded in affirmation, not daring to look at him. He sighed deeply and rolled out of the bed.

 " I'm delusional." he affirmed. 

"  Why?" I asked confused.

" Because I thought I could be enough for you." he answered.

" Baby, you are enough for me, this doesn't change anything between us." I assured him. 

He scoffed at my words. " You just said that you got bored." he argued. " So obviously you needed something else."

" It's different." I defended myself.

" Dicks, money, visibility on the internet." he listed. " All the same as before, you just do it on your own without the control of a production, of doctors, agents and managers." he concluded.

His words stabbed me in the heart, he had nailed it on the spot. I was seeking attention and adoration putting my body on display to anyone willing to pay for it.

" Maybe." I agreed. " I wanted to experience something different." 

He shook his head, disappointment evident in his expression. " You never listen to me. You do what you want regardless of my opinion." 

I sighed, feeling defeated. I realized that he was right, I had acted selfishly not caring about his feelings.

" What do you want me to do?" I asked. " Delete the account?"

He coughed deeply, wincing from the effort. "T-the account isn't the actual problem." he acknowledged. " You are more talented than selling videos and photos to strangers." 

I had never seen him so serious with me. It made me feel awful to know I was the cause of his sadness. 

"I'll do what you say." I promised, willing to fix my mistake.

" It's not about me making decisions for you, we are family and family comes first." he asserted. " You have an angelic voice when you moan, you could be a decent singer if only you would."

I blushed, he had a point on that. " Are you suggesting to use my fanbase to start a music career?" I asked.

He shrugged. " At least you wouldn't sell your body."

I chewed on my bottom lip, pondering his suggestion. " I could begin uploading cover videos of my favourite songs on YouTube."

" Indeed. You will have the acclamation and recognition of your fans, closing a chapter of your life and pursuing a new adventure." he resonated.

I looked at him fondly. " Baby, you should be proud of your intelligence."

He smiled at my words, his eyes shining in amusement. " I am your partner, remember?" he teased. "I must support you."

I chuckled. " Come here." I spread my arms and pressed him to my bosom.

"I love you." he whispered against my skin. 

" And I love you too." I confirmed, running my fingers through his hair. " More than anything." 

" I've been longing to take you for too many days now." he asserted with a voice full of lust. 

 I giggled at his confession, feeling the heat of his arousal pressing against my thigh. I slipped my hand under his boxers and caressed his growing cock, he groaned at my touch.

"You'll have to wait until you recover fully." I denied him.

 " Your honey will cure all my illness." he taunted me.  " Besides, I've been fantasizing about fucking your throat for far too long now." 

My pussy clenched at his words, I loved hearing him dirty talk. He reached between my legs and pushed my panties aside. " You are wet, aren't you?" he murmured. 

I nodded, my cheeks flushed from his ministration. He slid two fingers inside of me, making me shiver in pleasure. 

" Beg me." he ordered. His finger reached my G spot, making me squeal from the sensitivity.

" Please, baby." I moaned.

His hand withdrew from my body and he smirked at me, showing me my juices coating his fingers. " Say it properly." 

I whimpered at the loss of his touch. " Please, I want you to fuck me."

He pushed his fingers back and pumped in earnest. " That's what I wanted to hear." 

His digits curled and assaulted my G-spot, making my muscles contract around them. I cried out in delight, my body trembled from the pleasure.

" You are a naughty girl aren't you?" he taunted. His fingers stilled for a few seconds before resuming their assault. " Cum for me."

I sobbed, unable to control my climax, I felt myself falling over the edge of ecstasy. I came hard around his fingers, soaking his palm.

He removed his hand from my cunt and sucked on his fingers greedily. " Mmmm." he praised my flavour. " You taste divine."

I watched him lick my juices and I shivered at the thought of him eating my pussy. He noticed my gaze. " Do you wish me to eat your pussy?" he questioned.

I nodded vigorously. " Yes."

" Then spread your legs for me." he ordered me. 

I hastened to comply, pushing my thighs apart. He positioned himself between them and lowered his mouth to my slit, inhaling deeply and devouring me hungrily. His tongue swiped my entrance up to my clit and flicked it softly.

My thighs trembled at the intensity of his ministration, his tongue was gentle but firm at the same time, sending sparks of electricity down my spine and heating my blood.

"Ahhh!" I moaned, clutching the sheets tightly. My hips lifted on their own accord, eager for more of his tongue.

His fingers parted my folds wider and he attacked my clit furiously, sucking and licking it relentlessly. My toes curled from the pleasure and my nipples pebbled.

I was already close to my climax when he stopped torturing my bud and plunged his tongue inside of me. I keened loudly at the sensation of him penetrating me with his tongue. 

He fucked me with his mouth, laving my insides and lapping at my juices. My pussy clenched around his tongue, trying to prevent it from exiting me.

His finger replaced his tongue, plunging into me and finding my G spot once more. He assaulted it without mercy, making me scream in pleasure.

I came again, my vision blurred and my muscles tensed up. I lost count of how many times he made me climax, all I knew was that my pussy was sore and sensitive but eager for more of him.

When I opened my eyes, he was standing before me with his boxers on the floor and his erection proudly in front of my face. I reached out and licked his length tentatively, tasting the saltiness of his precum.

He caressed my cheeks. " Do you want it done nicely or brutally?" he questioned.  

I smiled widely, feeling mischievous. " Brutally." I opted for the second option.

He laughed at my choice. " Open your mouth wide." he instructed.

I did as told and he pushed into me until his length hit the back of my throat. " Swallow me." he commanded, pushing deeper.

I gagged slightly at the sudden intrusion but he didn't stop. He grabbed my hair and fucked my mouth roughly, his balls hitting my nose. Tears streamed down my face and saliva dribbled from my chin, I struggled to accommodate him.

" Good god, Mina.” he praised. " Take all of me." 

He rammed into me without care, his thrusts becoming more vicious every time he penetrated my throat. I gagged loudly, unable to breathe properly. 

He slapped my cheeks lightly. " Breathe through your nose." he advised.

I took a lungful of air and exhaled slowly, managing to calm myself. He held my head still and fucked my mouth mercilessly, his balls slapping my nose. I felt him pulsing inside of me and tasted his precum dripping into my mouth.

" I'm gonna cum." he announced.

I prepared myself for the torrent of sperm that would flood my mouth soon. He shoved me deeper into his groin and released his seed into me. I swallowed greedily, eager to taste him. His cum was salty and delicious, I drank him like a thirsty man in the desert. 

His thrusts stilled as he emptied himself inside of me completely. I licked his length clean and he pulled out of my mouth gently. 

I lay on the bed exhausted, he lay beside me and cuddled me tightly. " How was it?" I asked.

" Perfect." he purred satisfied. " You are such a good girl, swallowing me like that." he complimented. 

I smiled at his words. " You are the best thing that has ever happened to me." I confessed. 

He snuggled against me and whispered in my ear. " I love you."

I reciprocated his sentiment, holding him tighter. I had found my haven and safe space within his arms and was determined never to let him go.

" Brace yourself, baby, I'll ride you like in a rodeo." I straddled him and sunk onto his erection. 

He gripped my hips and pulled me down on his length, impaling me fully. I gasped from the feeling of being split open. He slapped my ass and ordered. " Move."

I lifted my body and sank back down slowly, adjusting to his size. My pussy adjusted slowly to his thickness and I began riding him faster. 

"You like that huh?" I panted, feeling exhilarating pleasure from having him fill me.

He grunted in response, too focused on fucking me to be able to answer verbally. He held me steady and pistoned into me furiously. My tits bounced wildly with every thrust.

" Yes! Like that." I cried. My body shuddered from the strength of my climax. My orgasm was powerful and intense, it made my limbs tremble and my mind went blank.

My muscles contracted around his length, squeezing him deliciously. He let out a strangled groan from my tightness and I felt his hot seed coating my insides. 

We came down from our highs slowly, holding each other and exchanging kisses and sweet whispers. 

This was the beginning of a new era for us. I knew we still had plenty of hurdles to overcome, but I was sure we would face them together and emerge victorious.

[prince-geo]

literally pleased with almost all of the new atla trailer except as per usual, Zuko's scar, idk why studios are so scared to commit to the intensity of the thing, its supposed to be shocking and obvious and textured and the first thing you see... that's the point, Zuko is supposed to struggle with feeling like it defines and brands him before finally coming to the point in his journey where he defines it.

Hollywood/big studios are known to hesitate or straight up avoid properly and honestly and unapologetically showing people with disfigurements/disabilities/facial differences etc. with the realism they deserve. Which is a shame in general for representation and humanization but ESPECIALLY in this case as its minimization actively harms it's narrative purpose as well

I promise making the scar more intense (shrivel up the ear a bit, make it intrude in his hairline, make his eye in a permanent squint due to nerve damage, for god sake REMOVE THE EYEBROW IT WAS BURNED OFF) will not make Zuko "ugly", (the actor is incapable of looking ugly and also the implication that scars make people too unappealing? yikes) but will actually do the character and his journey justice, not to mention really show Ozai's brutality, another essential narrative tool. Especially when he's bald like hello??? It should be even more stark and intense when he doesn't have hair to distract from it and cover his ear!!!

When transitioning from 2D to live action, of course some visuals are up for interpretation but that usually involved ADDING detail because the constraints of having to stay on modeling frame to frame is gone, not minimizing, removing or airbrushing. Doing Zuko's scar right to me is absolutely essential and I'm disappointed they seem just as as scared to go there as I thought they might. It doesn't have to be gory, if you've ever seen burn victims in real life or in pictures or even cosplayers/artists who are skilled in realistic burn makeup you'd know its possible to balance realism with humanity. It's possible especially with their resources to avoid the "scary Halloween makeup" route while not holding back on the brutality of the original injury.

Budget is definitely not an issue, or "scaring the kids" considering this remake is likely aiming to go a lil darker in tone than the cartoon (which was already super dark with its target audience of nickelodeon 7 year olds so no excuses) Audiences SHOULD be unsettled and upset when they see him but not because he's hard/disturbing to look at but because we are human and do not want to imagine someone doing that to a child.

It's a deliberate choice out of the all too common fear/hesitation to allow someone who is destined to eventually become a protagonist and is meant to be sympathized with to be "too ugly" while this hesitation is very rarely applied to straight up villains (again we come back to media's historic villainization of facial deformity). It's a trend that's always ticked me off in fanart too. The boy's face was melted, for gods sake. Zuko was always portrayed as an attractive boy in the cartoon (fire nation girls fawn over him) even with the intensity of his scar which is something I've always admired! People exist with scars similar to Zuko's in real life, and should not only be permitted to be represented as good guys and/or as attractive when their scars are toned down to be "palatable"

Like I said there's more that I loved than didn't love about the trailer, that can be a whole essay on it's own but I needed to get this very specific vent off my chest because it missed the mark so hard and stands out like a sore thumb in comparison to all the other visuals that hit the nail on the head to me

[jiminomenon]

what if a colleague of karina starts taking interest on assistant! reader 😩😩

good question.

from my series: the devil wears prada

it started out as something harmless.

one of jimin’s colleagues—perhaps a fellow model, someone just as rich and well-connected as she was—took an interest in her assistant. in y/n. maybe it was because of the way she handled jimin’s impossible demands with a straight face, or the way she carried herself, always so composed, so unshaken by the chaos that surrounded jimin’s world. or maybe it was just because they found her attractive.

whatever the reason, it began subtly. lingering glances, offhand compliments, the occasional teasing remark whenever jimin wasn’t around.

“you know, jimin’s lucky to have you,” the model—let’s call him jaemin—said one evening at an industry event. y/n had been standing off to the side, watching over jimin’s things while she mingled with people far above her pay grade.

she glanced at him, slightly wary. “lucky?”

jaemin grinned, charming and effortless. “yeah. you put up with her. do you know how many people would’ve quit after the first month?”

y/n chuckled. “i try not to think about it.”

he tilted his head, studying her with open interest. “i don’t think i’ve ever seen you outside of work. do you go to these things often?”

she shook her head. “only when i have to.”

“shame,” he mused. “i think you’d enjoy them more if you weren’t stuck babysitting.”

y/n huffed a laugh, glancing toward jimin, who was deep in conversation with a designer. “i don’t mind.”

jaemin raised a brow, amused. “really? she’s that good of a boss?”

y/n hesitated for a fraction of a second. “she has her moments.”

he smirked. “so that’s a no.”

before y/n could respond, a voice cut in.

“is there a problem?”

jimin.

her tone was neutral, but there was an edge to it—one that made jaemin’s smirk widen slightly, as if he had expected this. y/n straightened, suddenly feeling like she had been caught doing something she shouldn’t, even though she had done nothing wrong.

“no problem,” jaemin said smoothly. “just getting to know your lovely assistant. you never introduce her to anyone, you know. it’s almost like you’re hiding her.”

jimin’s gaze flickered to y/n, unreadable. “she’s not here to socialize.”

jaemin chuckled. “right, right. just here to follow you around like a shadow.”

“exactly.” jimin’s smile was polite, but there was something sharp behind it. “if you’re done, i need her.”

jaemin held up his hands in surrender. “of course. wouldn’t want to get in your way.” he turned back to y/n, flashing her an easy grin. “see you around, y/n.

y/n gave him a small nod, unsure of what else to do.

as soon as he walked away, jimin grabbed her wrist—not harshly, but firmly enough to pull her a step closer.

“don’t talk to him,” she said— well, demanded lowly.

y/n blinked. “what?”

“jaemin,” jimin responded, jaw tight. “don’t talk to him.”

y/n frowned. “why? he was just making conversation.”

jimin scoffed. “he was flirting with you.”

y/n stared at her. “so?”

jimin’s grip on her wrist tightened slightly before she let go, expression unreadable. “just don’t,” she muttered, before turning and walking away.

y/n watched her go, confusion swirling in her chest.

because that almost sounded like jealousy.

the thought was ridiculous. it had to be. jimin didn’t care about things like that. she didn’t care about her like that... right?

yet, jimin’s words echoed in her head. don’t talk to him. her fingers still tingled where jimin had gripped her wrist, and for a moment, she wondered if she should just let it go. maybe jimin was just in a mood again.

but then, jimin suddenly stopped a few feet away. without even turning around, she spoke.

“well?”

y/n blinked. “…well what?”

jimin turned, looking at her expectantly, like she was waiting for something obvious. “are you coming?”

y/n just stared at her. “do i have a choice?”

jimin raised a brow, unimpressed. “stay by my side.”

y/n huffed. “or what?”

jimin narrowed her eyes. “if i lose sight of you, you’re fired.”

y/n let out an exaggerated, dramatic eye roll. “oh, please.”

jimin only tilted her head, waiting.

y/n exhaled through her nose, reluctantly closing the distance between them, falling into step beside her.

jimin, satisfied, didn’t say anything more.

but the way she held herself, a little more at ease now that y/n was back where she belonged, didn’t go unnoticed.

[stopaskingme]

Further Notes on Watchespart 1 / part 2 / part 3

Tremblay

Tremblay's watch is a luxury piece. Probably a Tudor Style Fluted Bezel 41mm.

An uncommonly plain watch from Tudor. The clean face and delicate fluted bezel makes this a popular choice for people who want a luxury watch that just looks nice. it’s the newest and most expensive watch among our Conclave cardinals.

My watch friend knew he was corrupt the moment he saw the metal bracelet.

'Metal bracelets always cost more. You wear metal bracelets outdoors. If someone is wearing one indoors, they want you to notice them.’

eta: What does this tell us about his character? watch friend: nothing. He’s a basic bitch.

________________________________________

Tedesco

Tedesco's watch might be a ✨vintage 1960 Oris 671 KIF✨ (or a Clues Triomphe. We cannot agree.)

It's so generic-looking, we thought it was a Daniel Wellington at first.

A watch that one buys because of how it looks. The person wearing it hasn't seen much of the world and thinks this is what class and luxury looks like.

But then my friend clocked the bevel and alligator strap. Nevertheless, Oris is old and traditional / conservative and boring to the point of being generic. That's why it left no impression. It's devoid of character.

Oris is undeniably quality Swiss watchmaking, 'but it's easy to forget they exist because they're not creative. They don't experiment outside their comfort zone.'

My friend adds that "Anyone with a decent-paying job can save enough to buy an Oris in their lifetime. It sits somewhere above a Tissot, but below a Tudor. "

Additional note: like Tremblay, Tedesco's watch has a black dial, projecting an image of refinement, quiet confidence and charisma.

____________________________ EXTRA NOTE #1 ____________________________

Bellini's Seiko Dolce is actually swankier than Lawrence's battered Orient Bambino

The Orient Bambino is the good sourdough passed down through generations by grandma, recipe unchanged.

Seiko Dolce is that good sourdough from that one niche bakery in the cool part of the city and you can't get it anymore because it's limited edition.

Disclaimer: Lawrence's watch could also be an old model Longines; we're not 100%.

____________________________ EXTRA NOTE #2 ____________________________

Adeyemi has a watch too!

But I have to address that in a separate post because this is stupid long already.

In the meantime, please enjoy this shot of Benitez's elegant hands with his Casio watch peeking out eeeeever so slightly from his left sleeve.

____________________________ EXTRA NOTE #3 ____________________________

The watches in the movie are worn upside down

A clear example is when Lawrence tears open his toiletries at night.

If Lawrence's watch is worn correctly in the screenshot, it means he loses his temper with his toiletries at 6.30p.m.

But the scene that precedes this was so dimly lit, it had to be late at night. As late as, say, midnight...

The more obvious clue is the crown (the dial). It's facing the wrong way.

We don't know why.

I can only guess that a wardrobe assistant put the watches on for the actors and accidentally tied them as if they were wearing the watches themselves.

__________________________________________

🐢 Conclave watches part 1 / part 2 / part 3

__________________________________________

This post came to be because @purimpura, reached out to ask about Tedesco's watch ✨they even provided screenshots! ✨so this is their fault. please go give them love.

[once-a-traya]

i've been thinking a lot about the way kingdom come: deliverance ii structures its romances. it's interesting, in the sense that they all feel bespoke - short fling or long term or in-between, there's no hard and fast system that applies to all characters. most games with romances stick to a rhythm: you have the initial flirtation options, then there's a companion quest (or multiple companion quests), then you are 'locked in', and finally you get a scene at the end.

anyway, spoilers under the cut.

the romance with katherine is the closest to that model. which makes sense! she's a traumatized person who needs to be convinced henry is reliable, and she also doesn't know him, so the flirting is apt. it stretches across the entire game, because trust-building takes time and action (sidequests), and much like the romance with hans, a lot of the 'romance' moments hinge on non-romance moments you have with her throughout the story. romance in this game is part of a continuum of human interactions; it's something you can lean into if you want, not a reward toggle.

rosa's romance lasts while rosa is plot-relevant, and is contingent on you flirting with her and giving her the feeling that she and her capabilities are respected. you have to spend time with her and back her up, basically. then there's the various flings, which are all context-dependent. and theresa, which is technically a full-blown romance even if she's only on-screen for five seconds, because henry makes it a romance by bringing her up and speaking of their time together - in that version of the story, she's often on his mind. (but, like the other romances, you have to actively bring her up in the epilogue yourself; the game doesn't hand you "here's your reward romance content")

which leaves us with some interesting implications re: hans and henry. there are, as far as i've been able to find, five heart-icon dialogue interactions between them in the game, one of which is The Big Scene. none of the four romance dialogue options before that are flirty. the flirting happens outside of that, in all the non-romance sections, in ways that can be brushed off as bros-being-bros if you're into that. in fact i'd say most of the development that makes the romance possible happens in the non-romance sections.

the romance choices just let you lean in a little further.

the first romance dialogue comes at the midway point; it's hans apologizing for being a dick and henry can then respond to say it's fine, hans can always rely on him no matter how he behaves, he's the closest friend henry has. the second comes at maleshov, right after henry has staged an elaborate rescue for hans, and it's about henry reassuring a panicking hans that he will always be there for him and they can handle any situation together. the third romance dialogue comes halfway through the italian job and is missable - it's henry telling hans he's missed spending time with him, and repeating that when hans tries to joke it off as a 'yes we should go wenching again soon' kind of deal. finally, the fourth is shortly afterward, with henry worried about hans's claustrophobia, and stating, 'I care about you. maybe more than you know.'

hans brushes all of these things off, it seems like, but then by the Big Scene it's obvious he's been thinking about them a lot. and then hans is the one who makes a move, not henry (though you have to pick the option to trigger it). notably, even if you end the romance scene early by leaving or fumbling the moment, hans makes it clear he thought henry had feelings for him.

so if the difference between non-romanced and romanced katherine is flirting + her feeling she can trust and rely on henry, and the difference between non-romanced and romanced rosa is flirting + her feeling respected by henry, what's the difference between non-romanced and romanced hans? well. it's henry being earnest about his feelings, and going out of his way to make it clear that he cares about and values hans above everything else.

and that, maybe, in this time of extreme trial, he's safe to make this move on.

the extended implication of that is that hans had romantic feelings for henry all along, of some sort or another. he just doesn't address them in a non-romanced path because he doesn't feel confident to abandon plausible deniability and leave the safe, charged ambiguity between him and henry. not outwardly. possibly also not inwardly.

anyway, it's interesting. it also means that the entire game is technically the hans/henry romance arc. and i think that's neat.

[justice4billiam]

I had this little thought.

Billy always calls you pet names and that’s just the norm because he’s a flirt and then there’s you who never calls him a single cute pet name ever. But one particular day you were like talking to the cat or dog or something and call it a cute nickname only to look up at Billy and see him red in the face because he thought you were talking to him for a second. So you go in for the kill with it and it practically does kill him. So now you only call him that nickname when you truly want to see him squirm

Billy Hargrove x Fem!reader

Word count: 4,152

Warnings: Nothing too bad. Just Billy being Billy. Maybe even a little less of himself actually.

Author’s Note: OMG. I am SO sorry about how long it took me to get this out. I'm such a perfectionist, and for some reason, even as I post this, it doesn't feel all that great, but I hope you like it all the same.

Oh Baby

Billy Hargrove made a splash from the start.

He came cruising into the small town straight from the sunny shores of California, his cocky attitude and smirking face challenging anyone who crossed his path.

Everyone knew he was too big for a town like this, attracting stares and whispers as naturally as he breathed.

Billy had quickly become known for his flirty nature with the women of Hawkins, his inventory of pet names given with devilish grins and gazes that lingered just a second too long.

Handing them out like candy on Halloween with a confidence that bordered on arrogance.

But you?

You were the exception.

You were the challenge he couldn’t quite figure out.

Oh, how he wanted to.

The one girl who didn’t fall, the mystery that kept his mind racing.

You had always kept Billy at a distance, a boundary he seemed determined to cross. His invitations to hang out were met with polite declines, his attempts at conversation answered with noncommittal hums.

It wasn’t that you disliked him, in fact you were very aware of just how attractive he was; you just weren’t interested in being another name on his list.

But Billy was nothing if not persistent, acting like he didn’t even hear you most of the time, taking your rejections as a challenge.

It was on a day when the sky was a clear blue that opportunity knocked on Billy’s door—or rather, your car broke down.

Your car gave up on your way home from work right when you needed it the most, leaving you stranded with the hood open, staring at the engine.

As spring neared its end, the heat had become unbearable already causing sweat to drip down your face as you stood on the side of the road.

And what a coincidence that Billy would drive by, his Camaro growling like a hungry beast.

His car slowed to a stop in the lane, right beside you. Leaning over, he rolls down the passenger window, and peers out with raised brows.

“Need some help, sweetheart?” he enthusiastically calls out, his voice laced with amusement, clearly savoring the unexpected opportunity before him.

The urge to decline was immediate, yet you found yourself hesitating.

Accepting his help meant opening a door you’d fought to keep closed, and you weren’t sure you could take the consequences of letting him in.

But the sun was unforgiving, and your knowledge on cars was practically nonexistent.

That left you with two other choices: a long, lonely ten mile walk home or risk waiting for a stranger’s help, which, given the obvious, seemed like a stupid option.

Billy’s offer, which seemed honest enough, suddenly felt like the lesser evil here.

You gave an exasperated sigh and nodded your head.

“Alright, fine.” You grumbled under your breath.

The sight of Billy's smug grin made you instantly regret your decision as he pulled over a little distance up, and as usual, he looked like a model; his blonde curls blew in the wind as he got out of his car.

He kept his gaze on you, the same cocky look on his face as he boldly adjusted the front of his jeans before approaching.

"Hi." He greets cutely, stopping right in front of you, a little too close for your comfort.

Suppressing the urge to roll your eyes, you meet his gaze with an even look.

“Billy,” you acknowledge, your tone flat.

You could already tell he was going to be insufferable.

Billy’s grin was all charm as he leaned in.

“Having a bit of a day, are we?” he teased, casually flicking away a strand of hair that clung to your sweaty forehead.

The eye roll was involuntary this time, and without a second thought, you swatted his hand away.

“Are you going to help or are you just going to stand there?” you challenged, taking a step back.

Normally, you wouldn’t let anyone get to you so easily, but he was right—you were indeed having a rough day, and Billy had a knack for being an infuriatingly good pest.

He matched your retreat with a step forward, maintaining the intimate distance.

His gaze was unwavering, a hint of amusement revealing his enjoyment of your obvious annoyance.

Billy inched closer, the trace of a grin on his lips.

“Easy there, sugar,” he hummed, his words a soft whisper against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

As he moved past you, his body grazed yours just enough to leave a faint but unmistakable scent of his cologne—a secret tingle that you tucked away, never to be spoken of.

It was a sensation that you'd have never felt before, one you’d vehemently deny if ever questioned.

“I’ll take a look,” he stated simply, his attention already on the engine.

You paused, taking a deep breath to brace yourself against Billy’s bullshit. You knew he thrived on getting reactions, and you were determined not to give him the satisfaction. Ever.

With a measured step, you leaned in, your gaze fixed over his shoulder. You tried to follow along with his movements but they were a mystery to you.

However, the concern that suddenly showed on Billy’s face was clear.

A sharp breath caught in his throat, his hand freezing mid-motion. It was clear from his expression—whatever he saw, it wasn’t encouraging.

Billy stepped back from the car, and you reached into the backseat, rummaging through the clutter until your fingers found the familiar fabric of an old T-shirt.

“Here,” you offered, holding it out to him. He took it with a nod, wiping the oil from his hands.

“The bad news?” Billy’s started. “Your car’s distributor cap is cracked, and the timing belt’s snapped,” he stated plainly. “It’s not going to start without some work.”

You let out a weary groan, hands instinctively covering your eyes.

Why was the day just getting worse and worse?

This is what you get for leaving work early when they clearly needed you.

Karma really was a bitch.

Billys fingers tried to gently pry yours from your face, but you pulled away, fixing him with a dull glare.

His chuckle was barely there, and the boyish smile that followed was a detail that, despite your better judgment, you found quite charming—even if he was a heartbreaking jerk.

“Look at it this way,” Billy began, a hint of mischief in his voice as he shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m pretty good with my hands. We’ll take my ride to the closest phone, call for a tow, and get your car sorted out quick.”

Taking a step toward Billy, your suspicion was clear.

“But why?” you asked, eyes narrowed as you frowned in his direction.

You know what he was like.

He’s in your gym class, usually tough on people, and he doesn’t do special favors. Billy isn’t the type to help out without an angle, and you guessed he might be trying to get on your good side.

But you have never been the type to fall for his bullshit and he knew that.

Billy’s irritation was evident.

He exhaled a deep sigh, his eyes briefly darting to the side before locking onto you with a fiery intensity.

 “Do I need a reason?” he challenged, his tone sharp. “You need the help or not? Because I’m not sticking around if you don’t want it.”

With that, he pulled out a cigarette, lit it with a practiced flick of his lighter, and quickly pocketed it again.

You rolled your eyes, a combination of frustration and nerves as you clasped your hands together tightly.

 “Uhm—no—I mean, yes!” The words tumbled out in a hurried stutter.

“Sorry, I’m not trying to be rude. Yes, thank you, I could really use the help,” you said, the genuine gratitude finally surfacing despite the awkward exchange.

The hardness in Billy’s eyes seemed to dissolve, replaced by a hint of warmth as he gazed at you. He took a drag from his cigarette, the tension visibly leaving his shoulders.

“Alright,” he sniffed, a trace of his usual flirtatiousness returning. “I’ll get your car fixed. And who knows? Maybe you’ll owe me a drink after this.”

You let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “Keep dreaming,” you said, the doubt in your voice barely hidden.

He nonchalantly shrugged, the cigarette dangling from his lips as he pushed the hood down with a clunk.

Frowning, you watched him—it was clear that this was his plan all along. It was almost funny how obvious his intentions were.

But you felt like denying his help was a bad choice.

The thought of walking for miles was not at all appealing, and you were actually thankful for his offer to fix the car, knowing it would save you a significant amount on mechanic fees.

You offered a slight nod to Billy’s when his eyes found yours again.

You then walked over to your car, locking it with a deliberate push that made a sharp clicking sound. After ensuring everything was secure, you turned and hesitantly began to walk towards his car.

Billy strides were confident and unhurried, reaching the passenger door of his Camaro before you.

He opened it with a casual flick, the gesture almost too practiced.

You eyed him, the suspicion in your gaze clear as day, but you held your tongue to avoid sparking another tiff.

Instead, you communicated your question with a simple arch of your eyebrow as you took your seat.

As you settled into the passenger seat, Billy’s voice broke the slightly awkward silence, his tone laced with playful arrogance.

“You know, dreams are just plans waiting to happen,” he quipped, the cigarette bobbing with his words.

He flashed a quick, roguish grin as he shut the door, the sound punctuating his words.

You rolled your eyes so far back, you half-expected them to get stuck.

"You're aware of how annoying you are, right?" You couldn't help but remark as you watched him slide into the driver's seat, your eyes unintentionally diverting to his crotch as he adjusted himself.

Billy’s voice was low, a teasing edge to it. “Eyes up here, sweetheart,” he muttered, and you quickly lifted your gaze to his face, feeling your cheeks warm when you’re greeted by that infuriating smirk of his.

"And sure, I might be annoying," he conceded, smirking as he cupped himself through his jeans.

"But deep down, you're into it," he declared with certainty.

You gasped as the heat in your cheeks grew.

Quickly, you averted your gaze to the windshield, the outside world suddenly way more interesting.

He added, "even if you're not willing to admit that yet," his laugh was a low rumble as he capped off his comment by starting the car, the engine rumbling to life assertively.

He was infuriating, no doubt about it. Each smirk, each nonchalant shrug sent waves of annoyance crashing through you. Yet, there was something else, a whisper of a feeling you refused to examine too closely.

But deep down, you were pretty sure it was all a game to him. He didn’t actually like you; he was just chasing a thrill.

And even if you entertained the idea for a second, it would end as soon as you let him in—literally.

The moment he got what he wanted, the momentary excitement would fizzle out, leaving nothing but the echo of your own doubt and a raw, exposed part of you that you really didn’t want to deal with.

Choosing to ignore his advances was the safest bet, even if there was a small, secret part of you that wanted to knock him down a peg.

_______

Billy had kept his word.

The search for a payphone ended at the nearest gas station.

He stepped up to the phone, dialed the tow service, and with a casual strut, he said, “Yeah, I need a tow for my girl’s car. It’s over at Fifth and Lexington.”

You scoffed, your eyes wide with disbelief. His girl’s car? 

The words striking you bizarrely. 

Since when did you become ‘his girl’?

The thought was foolish, and yet, it unsettled you in a way you—again—didn’t want to explore.

But the fact that he knew your address without asking was even more disconcerting. How does he know where you live? 

That question nagged at you, adding to the mystery that was Billy.

He continued to speak into the phone, giving directions with a knowledge that bordered on intimate.

It was strange, yet there was a part of you that couldn’t help but feel a flicker of… something.

At the auto shop, Billy handled the costs with a casual ease, and you were left with a blend of emotions—surprise, a touch of gratitude, and a stubborn refusal to fully acknowledge either.

“It’s all taken care of,” he said, brushing off your attempts to pay him back.

So, as the tow truck pulled up at your house, you were ready this time.

You caught Billy’s eye, giving him a dull glare that said you knew exactly what he was about to do—and you weren’t having it.

With a swift motion, you handed the cash to the driver before Billy could even reach for his wallet.

His attempt to pay was unsuccessful, and the slight raise of your eyebrow made it clear you were the one calling the shots this time.

As the driver and Billy maneuvered the car into your garage, your gaze softened just a fraction, acknowledging his willingness to help, even if his insistence was irritating.

When the tow truck faded into the distance, you spun around to face Billy.

“I told you I could have helped you push it into the garage,” you said, exasperation seeping your words.

Your brows knitted together in a frown, a clear challenge in your eyes.

Billy’s response was a dismissive shrug, his smile unfazed.

“It’s fine,” he said as he shrugged out of his jean jacket and placed it in his front seat, his grin took on a teasing quality.

“Honestly, we’d still be out there on the side of the road if I waited for your help,” he joked, his voice light but edged with a playful tone.

Your gasp was reflexive, but the giggle that followed was more girlish than you expected, a sound that surprised you as much as the gentle smack you landed on his arm.

“I could’ve managed just fine on my own,” you countered, the roll of your eyes softening into something that felt dangerously close to affection.

He gave you a look that said he didn’t believe a word, but his nod was indulgent.

“Sure, sure,” he agreed, his smile broadening in a way that made your heart do an unexpected somersault.

Billy carried his tools from his trunk, his smirk sarcastic.

“Gonna watch me work, cutie?” he quipped, the playful edge in his voice clear. “I sure don’t mind an audience.”

You rolled your eyes, a response that had become all too common throughout the day and trailed after him into the garage.

“You’re insufferable, honestly, Hargrove,” you grumbled, though the annoyance was starting to wear thin.

He tossed a look back, his grin unwavering.

“But you wouldn’t have it any other way,” he teased, setting down his tools with a positive thud that resonated in the quiet garage.

Dragging a crate from the cluttered corner of the garage, you made yourself a makeshift seat. From this new vantage point, slightly off to the side, you watched Billy work.

The day was turning out to be pretty different.

Billy’s usual flirty jokes had a new feel to them, like he was actually trying to connect with you.

And seeing him with his hands in the car’s engine, he seemed to fit right in. It was strange to see him as more than just the guy who’s always either making a rude comment or trying too hard to charm you. Now, he was actually being helpful and knew his stuff. It was nice to see him like this, more real and down-to-earth.

As you kept an eye on him, you felt your annoyance start to slip away, and you began to see him in a fresh way.

It wasn’t a dramatic change, but it was real.

Billy was still Billy, but the good parts were starting to stand out more.

You just hoped that this nicer side of him wasn’t just an act.

With a dramatic sigh, you shoved your thoughts aside and stood up.

Despite your best efforts to avoid it all day, you found yourself heading straight into the very thing you had been trying to dodge.

“You want a drink?” The words came out softer than you intended, as you walked toward the door in the garage that led to the house.

Billy’s grunt drifted up from under the hood, his hands surely doing something important. Timing belt, maybe you mused, though your knowledge of car parts was very much limited to where the gas goes.

Heading into the kitchen, you actually felt thankful for your mom’s hospital shift this time.

It saved you from having to explain the boy in the garage.

The house was quiet, just the way you liked it. You weren’t lonely; you enjoyed your own company.

Sure, you hung out with school friends occasionally, but the calm of being on your own was something you cherished, even with your mom’s frequent work hours.

You took two Cokes from the fridge, their cans chilling your fingers.

As you returned to the garage, you paused to watch Billy.

Without his usual guarded demeanor, he seemed more genuine, almost endearing. 

He’s actually pretty decent like this, you thought, a quiet hum escaped your lips as you turned on the radio, filling the space with soft rock melodies.

Billy’s look caught you off guard, and warmth flooded your cheeks.

“What?” you asked, turning just enough to keep your blush from view.

His smile was soft, uncharacteristic.

“Nothing. You just have a nice voice, doll,” he said, his tone carrying a note of authenticity as he turned back to his work.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, placing his Coke by his tools, and sat down on your crate.

A small smile lingered on your face, enjoying the surprisingly comfortable presence between Billy and you.

You just sat there for a bit, humming along with the radio.

You tried not to make it obvious that you were watching Billy work, but he’s probably caught you staring. 

Every now and then, you’d catch him looking your way too. You didn’t say anything about it, though.

It was kind of nice, just being there together without needing to fill the space with chatter.

Your gaze drifted to the street when you felt a gentle pressure against your leg.

Startled at first, you quickly relaxed when you saw it was Pepper, your cat. The door must not have closed all the way behind you.

She rubbed against your leg once more, seeking attention.

“Come here, my baaaby,” you drawled, the word stretching out affectionately.

You picked her up and she immediately began to purr, content in your arms.

Billy’s movements paused, and he looked up, the late afternoon sun highlighting the surprise in his eyes.

The nickname had clearly caught him off guard, and a blush—a deep, rich shade you’d never seen—bloomed across his cheeks.

THE Billy Hargrove, always so sure of himself, now blushing and speechless.

He must have thought you were talking to him.

You couldn’t help but savor the moment, seeing the unshakeable Billy at a rare loss for words, all because of you.

With Pepper cradled in your arms, you rose to your feet, a newfound confidence lifting your stance.

You took a step toward Billy, your voice dropping to a teasing whisper.

“What’s wrong, Baby? Never had a girl talk sweet to you before?”

The nickname now felt like a playful taunt, a subtle shift in power as you watched him grapple with the unexpected role reversal.

Billy’s answer was a fumble, his words tripping over each other in a way you’d never heard before.

“I—uh, that’s not… I mean…” he faltered, his cheeks a deeper shade of red.

Witnessing Billy, always so sure and smug, searching for words was a delight you didn’t know you needed.

The smirk that spread across your face was instinctive, almost predatory.

“Don’t worry, baby,” you cooed, your head nodding slowly in feigned understanding. “I think I get it now.” The words hung in the air, heavy with implication and sweet victory.

Billy shook his head, his smile genuine and a bit surprised.

“Now that’s just not fair, doll,” he finally said, the words tinged with a hint of admiration.

He turned back to the car, his hands resuming their work under the hood.

You leaned in, a playful edge to your voice.

“Now you know how it feels for the rest of the female population.”

The sound of his laughter was unexpected, something you don’t think you’ve ever actually heard before, but you liked the sound of it.

A lot.

Billy’s voice was muffled by the engine.

“Wow, you’re actually fun,” he said, a note of surprise in his tone.

That drew a scoff from you.

“What made you think I wasn’t?” you retorted, setting Pepper inside and ensuring the door was firmly shut this time.

He looked up, giving you a look that was both accusing and playful.

“Well, it’s not like you talk to me, sweetheart. You usually act like I don’t exist,” he shrugged.

He had a point.

“Well—yeah…” you conceded, feeling a bit awkward as you rubbed your arm.

“I’m sorry for that. I just thought you were being nice because… well…” You trailed off, your eyes darting away as you felt your face heat up.

Billy exhaled, a note of understanding in his voice. “That’s fair.”

The casual admission made your eyebrows shoot up.

He continued, wiping his hands on a rag, “But I actually wanted to get to know you. Still do.” His words, simple and unexpected.

You took a moment to process his words. Could he be serious? After today, you found yourself hoping so.

This side of Billy was… different, likable even.

Releasing a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, you ventured, “I think I might want that too.”

Then, hastily, you added, “But I’m not sleeping with you!” just to set the record straight.

Billy’s smirk was anything but innocent as he nodded.

You shoved your hands into your back pockets, and for a moment, you both just stood there, silently assessing each other.

Then, his smile grew.

“I’m done here. Wanna try starting it up?” he asked, gesturing to the car.

“Oh! Yeah,” you said, a bit startled by the sudden change of topic.

You fished out your keys and climbed into the driver’s seat.

The key turned, the engine purred to life, and a rush of happiness bubbled up inside you.

You hopped out and, without thinking, wrapped Billy in a spontaneous hug.

“Woo, thank you, baby!” you shouted, the excitement making you bold.

Billy froze for a split second, the nickname catching him off guard, but then he relaxed and returned the hug, a chuckle escaping him.

Your own reaction caught up with you, and you pulled back, a blush coloring your cheeks.

“Oh—Billy—I meant Billy,” you corrected, but the moment had already passed.

Billy’s hands lingered on your waist, his smile soft but playful.

“I don’t know. I think I like ‘baby’ better,” he teased, his eyebrows lifting in a challenge and his eyes twinkling as they swept across your face.

You lowered your head, hiding from his intense stare.

“Oh, whatever,” you muttered, stepping back until his arms fell away.

You sighed, eyeing him again.

“But really, thank you,” you said with a nod. “I was this close to attacking the engine with a bat before you showed up.”

Billy chuckled, scratching the back of his neck.

“Ah, it’s no big deal, princess,” he said, trying to act nonchalant. “Plus, I got to spend the day with the prettiest girl around. So, yeah, worth it.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, and you saw his smile turn a shade more devilish at the sight of your blush.

Billy lingered there for a moment before he picked up his toolbox.

“Well, I should go,” he said, a note of hesitation in his voice.

You nodded, a quiet “Bye” escaping your lips, but as he neared his Camaro, a thought struck you.

“Wait, Billy!” you called out hastily.

He turned, a question in his eyes.

“What about that drink, baby?” you added, the last word emphasized with a mix of challenge and playfulness.

He paused, the blush on his cheeks visible even from a distance, but his smirk was undiminished.

“Eight it is, baby,” he replied, his voice carrying back to you with a hint of laughter.

As he got into his car and drove off, you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

Maybe Billy wasn’t so bad after all.

[bioethicists]

the logic of pathologizing specific desires claims to stop moralization, but all it does is qualify them using absurdly circular logic.

"people who do drugs/kill themselves/hurt themselves have Done Something Wrong. but thinking that they are Bad People is cruel [true!], so they must have had a disease that made them do a Bad Thing even though they're Not Bad." or, more broadly "Healthy People want to do Good Things + Stay Healthy while Unhealthy People want to do Bad Things + Stay Sick. therefore, someone is who wants to do Bad Things is sick with a disorder that is tricking them into thinking they want to do Bad Things instead of the Good Things that their Real Self (which is being obscured by disease) wants."

do you see how this classifies anyone who desires something "unhealthy" as diseased + denies them full personhood until they embrace an identity composed of only "healthy" desires (with all "unhealthy" desires being an invasive Other)? why do we see this as this necessary? would someone become a Bad Person if the desire to do drugs or kill themselves was coming from Them + not a disease? why, if you genuinely believe that these things are not immoral? or do you believe they are ONLY morally acceptable because they come from a disease (so the person "can't help it")? if you feel like you need this model to understand your own experience, why? do you feel like it relieves a shame or guilt surrounding your experiences? why?

i need everyone to understand that, regardless of whatever personal attachment you feel to this model, the circular concept of "people who are too sick to know what's good for them (which is obvious because they are making choices which only sick ppl make)" is part of a logic that justifies all manner of degrading, violent + carceral responses to mad ppl/drug users/unhoused ppl. for every "recovered" person who embraces this model, there is a "disordered" person who resents it + that person will forever be denied the resources + social absolution "recovery" offers until they embrace it

[nostalgebraist]

Seeing a lot of python hate on the dash today... fight me guys. I love python. I am a smoothbrained python enjoyer and I will not apologize for it

Python has multiple noteworthy virtues, but the most important one is that you can accomplish stuff extremely fast in it if you know what you are doing.

This property is invaluable when you're doing anything that resembles science, because

Most of the things you do are just not gonna work out, and you don't want to waste any time "designing" them "correctly." You can always go back later and give that kind of treatment to the rare idea that actually deserves it.

Many of your problems will be downstream from the limitations in how well you can "see" things (high-dimensional datasets, etc.) that humans aren't naturally equipped to engage with. You will be asking lots and lots of weirdly shaped, one-off questions, all the time, and the faster they get answered the better. Ideally you should be able to get into a flow state where you barely remember that you're technically "coding" on a "computer" -- you feel like you're just looking at something, from an angle of your choice, and then another.

You will not completely understand the domain/problem you're working on, at the outset. Any model you express of it, in code, will be a snapshot of a bad, incomplete mental model you'll eventually grow to hate, unless you're able to (cheaply) discard it and move on. These things should be fast to write, fast to modify, and not overburdened by doctrinaire formal baggage or a scale-insensitive need to chase down tiny performance gains. You can afford to wait 5 seconds occasionally if it'll save you hours or days every time your mental map of reality shifts.

The flipside of this is that it is also extremely (and infamously) easy to be a bad python programmer.

In python doing the obvious thing usually just works, which means you can get away with not knowing why it works and usually make it through OK. Yes, this is cringe or whatever, fine. But by the same token, if you do know what the right thing to do is, that thing is probably very concise and pretty-looking and transparent, because someone explicitly thought to design things that way. What helps (or enables) script kiddies can also be valuable to power users; it's not like there's some fundamental reason the interests of these two groups cannot ever align.

[taliabhattwrites]

I’m sorry if you’ve answered this, or if it should be obvious, but you does your substack say trans/rad/fem? What is trans radical feminism? How does it differ from just radical feminism?

Yep! It says Trans/Rad/Fem, as does the title of my book.

The short version is that your average online hate speech aficionado who calls themselves a TE"RF" is no more well-versed in actual radical feminist literature than the billionaire writer. The most feminist literature they've read is likely wizard kidlit, and maybe the most hateful bits of 'Transsexual Empire' or a bit of Sheila Jeffreys if you're lucky.

Meanwhile, the radical feminist tradition was one that itself emerged as a materialist, inclusive, and more working-class counterpoint to the First Wave's doddering Friedanism. People don't recall much of the first wave, but it engendered such ironclad feminist arguments as "lesbians are not oppressed by patriarchy because they do not marry and are not confined to the domestic sphere", or "mothers and fathers are equally responsible for women doing to the bulk of childcare, because mothers are so reluctant to let go."

Truly, it's a miracle there were any subsequent waves at all.

Adrienne Rich's essay on Compulsory Heterosexuality can be viewed as something of a turning point, a collation of a more materialist framework (since I don't believe Rich necessarily originated all the points she raised). She, rather gently and with more patience than I have ever demonstrated, addressed the arguments of the heterosexual feminists and highlighted the coercive nature of patriarchy and of heterosexuality itself, which could be considered a social regime, a model that attempts to subsume all women into domestic servitude and sexual labor for men.

(A quick aside--if you've ever encountered any arguments on this site along the lines of "CompHet is only for lesbians", do note that the original text involves Rich, a lesbian, laying out the argument to hetfeminists that all women, even straight women, are subjected to a mandatory heterosexual existence, and are punished for trying to live outside of it, as by pursuing economic independence or choosing to be childless.)

For me personally, given the rather dismal state of Indian feminism, which is dominated by affluent liberals and ignores the more radical prolefem and dalit feminist elements attempting to come to the fore, it was refreshing to finally behold a piece of feminist literature that identifies and names forced marriage as an aspect of patriarchy, one that a significant chunk of women all over the world, both within Western territories and without, live with. So much mainstream feminism in the 2000s and beyond was located in the interpersonal, the foregrounding of choices women "should" make, ignoring that for the vast majority of us, patriarchy either denies us any choice at all, or presents us with false ones, harshly punishing us for some choices while presenting them as "free".

(Liberal ideologies and systems, bound up as they are in a veneration of contracts between equal parties, account very poorly for contracts between parties on unequal footing, where one is at a significant material disadvantage and cannot truly make a "free" choice.)

Besides, it is neither true that modern feminism entirely discarded the second wave--look at "gender is a social construct" and "heteronormativity" for now-banal feminist concepts steeped in radfem origins--nor is it true that the "third wave", such as it was, was entirely aa step forward in inclusivity, trans-acceptance, class consciousness, or even racial justice. One need only look at the state of modern feminist discourses to see how well the latest "waves" have managed to argue the case for trans liberation, and my current most well-known essay is a deep dive into the Orientalist, transmisogynistic origins of "third genders", an idea the queer academy has uncritically absorbed and even championed.

I am under no misapprehensions that second-wave feminists would be my pals. A lot of them were white, for one thing. It is, however, a tradition that is both more diverse than the prevailing image of white, middle-class lesbian academics would have you believe, and one that has more than a few useful things to say, especially to a transfeminist.

I don't think we are best served by erecting a cordon sanitaire around the second wave and refusing to engage with it critically. I've read Transsexual Empire, for fuck's sake, and doing so revealed to me just how paper-thin this reactionary movement has always been. That book is as farcical and easily disproved as Hilary Cass' recent bilious screed, but both were elevated to legislative and political relevancy not due to their veracity, but because institutions simply need any literature to provide a veneer of legitimacy to their transphobia. That the texts exist at all is enough.

I have, in short, made my life's work engaging with scholarship that has historically ignored us, vilified us, or instrumentalized us, and that is as true for second-wave feminists as it is for cultural anthropologists. I just believe that Monique Wittig and Adrienne Rich made valuable contributions to feminist thought, and even as we remember all that their missteps, we should not erase what they did right.

On a personal note, I can think of no better revenge than taking the abandoned threads of the radical feminist tradition and finally fulfilling its aborted potential, as a transfeminist. The trans question tore the movement apart because of a subset of zealots who couldn't and wouldn't see us as sisters in the feminist struggle.

I am going to finish what they started, and make the conclusions that they couldn't. We're good at cleaning up other people's messes, after all.