#oh! because I liked the story that’s why :D

[seitmai]

Many thoughts

You’d heard about him. Your model friends had stories about how smooth he was, the size of his dick, and how he ghosted right after getting what he wanted. Classic. But you got it. On a cellular level. Because you weren’t looking for entanglements either. You just wanted the D.

She knows what she wants and he fits exactly that🤷🏻‍♀️

Too curated. Profiles with perfectly lit selfies, vague aspirations, and bios that tried too hard to sound both deep and detached.  He didn’t swipe often. But the truth was, Ari Levinson was lonely. Not in the sad, broken kind of way, more like he was perpetually surrounded by beautiful people who only admired his collection, complimented his taste, but never asked why he kept certain pieces or why he stared too long at sculptures that looked like loss.

Honestly would love to talk about how Ari's curating process

His encounter the other night with the newlywed Rogers made him yearn for that kind of fire, that kind of connection. But he didn’t know if that could be duplicated.

👀

He choked on his espresso. It was hilarious. And too perfect. He should’ve ignored it. Should’ve played it cool. Instead, he typed back faster than he ever had in his life.

That's a reaction I would love for any message lol

And it was the word intrigued, not “interested,” not “curious.” And he’d said, “Can’t wait to see you.” That got you. Because that meant he was already a little undone.

Devil's in the details 😌

The man was massive. Pictures didn’t do him justice and you didn’t know of the button up was tailored, all you knew is you felt the power beneath it. You also had to stop yourself from turning your head sideways to check out the package in his jeans.

Fair 🤷🏻‍♀️

“Oh. A big girl drink.” You laughed. He kind of loved it already. “Well, as you can see, I’m a big girl.” Ari’s eyes slid down your body and you weren’t mad as he did a double take at your jeans. “I see. And I like.”

Period 😌

You laughed and tilted your head. Something happened in Ari’s chest. He should have run.

Oh 👀

“I was trying to decide,” he murmured, as he took a drink, eyes locked on yours, “if I wanted to fuck you at your place or mine.” You blinked, just once, but your smile widened. “Oh, we’re skipping pretense, then?” you questioned. “Good. I hate when men waste my time. When was the last time you were tested?"

Yeah, why waste time?

“You’re starting to sound like someone who catches feelings.” “Feelings?” he echoed with a grin. “No, I just like being around wild, beautiful creatures. And I enjoy the ones that bite back even more.” You leaned in closer to him. “You think I’m wild. And you think I bite?” “I hope you are. And I hope you do.”

Their banter and chemistry is already off the charts😮‍💨

You put your hand on his thigh at that moment, moving it up to feel his thickening cock. You were excited at the potential there.

Great potential if you ask me 😌

You were straddling him on your couch when Ari realized he was in trouble. He should’ve known the second you walked into the bar, hips swaying and those curves...damn. But here, now, with your thighs around him and your body pressed so close he couldn’t tell where he ended and you began, he was so gone.

Whelp too late I guess 🤭🤷🏻‍♀️

“Fuck. You’re unreal,” he murmured. And you just smirked, leaned in, whispering, “I know.”

👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

Oh he 100% already is

“You gonna fall in love with me, Ari?” you teased against his mouth. “I think I already am,” he said, before he could stop himself. He'd slept with beautiful women. Charming women. Women who made love like it were their last day on earth. But you? You were different.

“Take off the rest of your clothes,” he commanded and you scrambled to comply, removing your top and your bra and watching him undress at the same time. You almost groaned at the sight of his cock. You hadn’t always been a cock hungry slut, but you were a little obsessed. Ari was big and long, not the longest you’d had, but definitely the thickest. It was beautiful: veiny and flushed, with a large swollen head that leaked precum down his shaft. You knew it was going to be amazing when he stretched you out. Then you noticed his balls. They looked full and heavy. You couldn’t help but lick your lips as you imagined how much cum he’d have for you. Ari smirked down at your wide eyes on him as he pushed your shoulders until you were lying on your back.

🤤🤤🤤

He licked those red lips and if you had a heart you would have been in trouble. You’d never been this wet with anyone before. You just shook your head no, not trusting yourself to answer, lest you have him thinking, correctly, that he was the shit.

Whoops they are trouble for each other 🤭

“Do you have any condoms?” Oh no. Did you? You couldn’t think because of the pre-orgasmic haze you were in. Ari licked his finger and then brought it down to caress your clit while he waited for your answer. That didn’t help the clarity of your thinking.

That sure makes clear thinking hard

Thank god. You were about to beg him to ride you bareback if he hadn’t found any. He sheathed himself and then moved back into his previous position.

Pew, close call 🤭

“Tell you what, if you beg me to fill your pussy with cum, I’ll fuck you so hard your head spins. Deal?” “Um…” you couldn’t form your thoughts to beg, or to realize that there would be no cum filling because of the condom. “Why don’t you think about it and let me know,” Ari said casually as if he were talking to a customer browsing his gallery

Sounds like a deal 🤷🏻‍♀️

Every time you pulled your nipples, you felt a corresponding pull between your legs. And then there was the way he was looking at what you were doing, eyes half lidded and mouth open as you touched yourself. Fuck that was so erotic.

That really is so erotic 😮‍💨

Jesus fuck, it was like he didn’t really want you to be able to talk. Catching a moment of clarity, you rushed it out.

👀🤭

He went to the bathroom and disposed of the condom and then returned and pulled you up the bed to make you his little spoon. You reveled in the smell of sweat and sex, almost getting high on the scent. You laughed softly like you couldn’t believe what just happened. But he knew. He knew exactly what happened. He was ruined.

🥰🥰🥰

“Don’t worry, Muse. I’ll get out of your hair soon. Just catching my breath.” “... the fuck is Muse?...” you questioned on your way to sleep, the rhythm of his fingers on your thighs the nails in your coffin of sleep. “You are. You’re my Muse.” You didn’t quite feel the kiss on your forehead. But you smiled.

This sure is not gonna be just a one night stand lol

“You can go, you know.” That got his attention. He lifted his head, messy hair falling over his eyes, beard pressed with pillow lines. He looked like sex personified.

Because he probably is 🤭

“Damn. No coffee? No kiss on the cheek? Not even a fake number on a Post-it?” “Wasn’t trying to. Just… didn’t think you’d be in such a rush to forget me.” “I’m not,” you lied, tying your hair up with a scarf, trying to be as unattractive as possible. 

He probably can't ieven if he wanted to 🤭👀

He studied you for a long moment, then stretched like a cat, unapologetically naked and smug.

What a sight to be seen🤤

“If this is your way of making sure I don’t catch feelings... it might be too late.”

 “You always kick people out like this? Or am I just special?” You sighed. He wasn't making it easy. He was too comfortable in your space. Too charming. Too in your face.

Oh he definitely is special

🫣🫣🫣

Muse: One

Muse Preview/Masterlist

Summary: You and Ari meet on Raya. Chaos ensues.

Pairing: Art Curator! Ari Levinson x Plus sized model! Reader

Word count: 4.5 K

A/N: Muse will be a series of one shots featuring Muse and Ari, and this one will probably be the longest one. We’re gonna hear from them at least every week. 😏 Big thanks to @princessphilly who basically inspired the premise and then endured me being feral in her inbox. And yes, this is the same Ari that's in Show Off, so this AU is tangential to the Peach and Knock You Down verses. I was honestly working on another fic and this one possessed me. Here I go again. 🤷🏽‍♀️

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT! Read at your own risk; curate your own experience. Ari Levinson: art collector/curator/ fuckboi, Reader: model/ player, dating app life, drinking, casual sex, Dominant Ari, assertive reader, sex almost straight out the gate, size kink (c &b), breeding kink, but protected sex, pussy/clit slapping, praise and degradation, one night stand with zero feelings caught (lies!)

I don’t have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post!

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

--------

You weren’t even supposed to be on Raya that night.

You’d just finished a long shoot in a downtown loft where the air was thick with hairspray, and the photographer kept yelling absurdities like: “Give me strong, but soft! Like a powerful whisper!” 

Your feet ached. Your back screamed. The only thing keeping you sane was the cold cabernet sauvignon sweating in your hand.

You weren’t looking for anything. You just wanted to see some pretty faces and feel like a hot girl with options.

Swipe.

Swipe.

No.

No.

Hell no.

Well damn. Ari Levinson.

You’d heard about him. Your model friends had stories about how smooth he was, the size of his dick, and how he ghosted right after getting what he wanted. Classic.

But you got it. On a cellular level. Because you weren’t looking for entanglements either.

You just wanted the D.

His first photo was black and white, him standing in a sunlit Parisian gallery, framed by massive abstract canvases. His hair was tousled like he either just woken up from a nap on a vintage couch or spent the morning negotiating a private sale.

He wasn’t looking at the camera, of course not.

He was looking at the art. 

Ari also looked like art, smart blue eyes and soft lips partially hidden by a beard that you thought would feel good between your thighs. You could tell that he was tall, broad shouldered, and built to last. He was dressed casually, and that’s how you knew he was rich rich.

He didn’t have to show it off.

His bio was enigmatic:

“Chasing beauty, collecting moments. Sometimes it’s oil on canvas. Sometimes it’s the silence between two songs.”

What the fuck does that even mean?

You read it twice.

You meant to swipe left.

But fate, or the wine, intervened.

It’s a Match.

You stared at it for a minute, then typed before you could change your mind.

“Picasso said 'art is a lie that makes us realize truth.” You buying lies or selling them?” Drinks?

He responded within seconds.

He suggested a bar in SoHo with intimate booths, dim lighting, and top tier mixology. 

You almost said no. You didn’t do dates. 

You did vibes, connections, and the occasional night of excellent chaos. 

But something about his response made you curious.

—--

Raya was never really Ari’s scene.

Too curated. Profiles with perfectly lit selfies, vague aspirations, and bios that tried too hard to sound both deep and detached. 

He didn’t swipe often.

But the truth was, Ari Levinson was lonely.

Not in the sad, broken kind of way, more like he was perpetually surrounded by beautiful people who only admired his collection, complimented his taste, but never asked why he kept certain pieces or why he stared too long at sculptures that looked like loss.

His encounter the other night with the newlywed Rogers made him yearn for that kind of fire, that kind of connection. But he didn’t know if that could be duplicated.

Ari was just about to close the app when your profile popped up. 

He recognized you right away. 

Not because you were just beautiful, you definitely were, but because you commanded the image. There was a magnetism in the way you moved, a joy and defiance that didn’t care for permission.

On your profile was a picture of you in oversized sunglasses and a silk robe, holding a book. And another one of you at some red-carpet event, plus-sized and absolutely radiant, laughing like you were amused at the world. 

You were absolutely stunning.

Your bio:

Model. Curvy chaos. Not here for a long time, just a good time.

Ari smiled. Finally, someone not performing a softcore version of forever.

You weren’t like the others, not looking to be wifed up with someone rich and powerful like him. That made you dangerous.

He swiped right instinctively, just to see. Just to admire. 

He didn’t expect a match.

But when the screen lit up, It’s a Match!, his chest actually tightened. 

And then came your message.

You look like you curate galleries by day and cry to phoebe bridgers by night. Drinks?

He choked on his espresso.

It was hilarious.

And too perfect.

He should’ve ignored it. Should’ve played it cool.

Instead, he typed back faster than he ever had in his life.

“I’m intrigued. 8PM. Little Branch in SoHo. Can’t wait to see you.”

Short, sharp, and confident, not overplaying his hand. 

And it was the word intrigued, not “interested,” not “curious.” And he’d said, “Can’t wait to see you.” 

That got you. Because that meant he was already a little undone.

—---

Ari was already there when you walked in. Black button-up, gold chain, leaning on the bar casually, but you could tell he saw you the second you stepped through the door. He stood, smiled, and you rocked back on your heels as if hit by a bolt of lightning. 

The man was massive. Pictures didn’t do him justice and you didn’t know of the button up was tailored, all you knew is you felt the power beneath it. You also had to stop yourself from turning your head sideways to check out the package in his jeans.

You paused, steadying yourself, and continued your approach..

“Wow,” he said when you approached and introduced yourself. 

You laughed, because no matter how many people ogled you for a living, the involuntary kind of compliments always made you flustered. You swallowed, then turned to the barback.

“Negroni. Empress Gin.”

Ari raised an eyebrow, impressed.

“Oh. A big girl drink.”

You laughed. He kind of loved it already.

“Well, as you can see, I’m a big girl.”

Ari’s eyes slid down your body and you weren’t mad as he did a double take at your jeans. 

“I see. And I like.”

The way he licked his lips made you warm. You raised your eyebrow, imagining him munching away.

“My booth is back here.”

You looked at his large hand pointing the way to the back of the small bar to an even more intimate area. Yeah. You could ride that. 

You walked ahead of him and you knew that he was watching your ass. You didn't mind. That was the point.

His booth was tucked into a corner, shadowed and intimate; it was the kind of space designed for secrets and seduction. You slid in first, and he followed, sitting close.

He signaled for another round, fingers grazing yours on the drink menu as if by accident, and when the server left, he turned back to you with that beautiful smile.

“So. Model, huh?” 

You smiled back at him.

“That’s the rumor. Print and editorial mostly. A few campaigns. But I prefer runways in Europe over the states. I travel a lot.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

You shrugged. 

“Sometimes. But I like bringing the fantasy to life.” 

You took a sip of your drink and his eyes were on your mouth.

“And you? Art dealer, right? Collector?”

“Curator,” he corrected gently. “Sometimes broker. Sometimes buyer. Mostly, I help people spend obscene amounts of money on things they don’t understand.”

You raised an eyebrow. 

“So a charming con artist with a gallery?”

He grinned. 

“Exactly. But I only sell what I believe in.”

“Nice. I sell unattainability and the occasional skincare product. We both deal in illusions.”

“Yours just have better lighting.”

You laughed and tilted your head. Something happened in Ari’s chest. He should have run.

“So, what, you sit around all day judging brushstrokes and seducing heiresses?”

“Mostly. And trying not to text back women I shouldn’t.”

“Am I one of them?”

“Too soon to tell. But you’re a strong contender.”

You let that linger in the air for a second.

“So,” you said slowly, setting your drink down with a clink, “is this where you try and charm the pants off me?”

“I was trying to decide,” he murmured, as he took a drink, eyes locked on yours, “if I wanted to fuck you at your place or mine.”

You blinked, just once, but your smile widened.

“Oh, we’re skipping pretense, then?” you questioned. “Good. I hate when men waste my time. When was the last time you were tested?"

Ari raised his brow. You cut right to the chase.

"I get tested once a quarter, last time was two weeks ago. Clean."

"Hmmmm. I tested a month ago. And I'm clean too. But I'm gonna still need you to wear protection."

Ari smiled and lowered his eyes. His hand moved slightly under the table to rest near your thigh, but not quite touching you. A tease.

"Of course. Something tells me you don’t let anything, or anyone through,” he replied.

You studied him, wondering if you were reading worship and destruction into his look or if it was actually there.

“You’re starting to sound like someone who catches feelings.”

“Feelings?” he echoed with a grin. “No, I just like being around wild, beautiful creatures. And I enjoy the ones that bite back even more.”

You leaned in closer to him. 

“You think I’m wild. And you think I bite?” 

“I hope you are. And I hope you do.”

Your leg brushed his under the table. His eyes flicked down, then back up to your face, darker now.

“I have the same hopes for you, Mr. Levinson.”

Ari’s jaw flexed, nostrils flaring. 

“I think we’re going to get along just fine.”

His fingers moved to your thigh and traced a slow line up your crotch beneath the table. 

You leaned in closer.

“You still sure about just one night?” he asked, eyes on your lips again.

You put your hand on his thigh at that moment, moving it up to feel his thickening cock. You were excited at the potential there.

“One night. That’s the deal. I don’t do second acts. So you better make it count.”

Ari grinned and your stomach flipped.

“Well, then. I need to make it unforgettable.”

—----

You were straddling him on your couch when Ari realized he was in trouble.

He should’ve known the second you walked into the bar, hips swaying and those curves...damn. But here, now, with your thighs around him and your body pressed so close he couldn’t tell where he ended and you began, he was so gone.

Ari wasn’t the type to rush. 

He was all about artful restraint and being aloof. But you shattered that. 

You kissed like you knew just how to destroy him with your lips, teeth, and tongue. Ari hadn’t experienced the feeling since he was a teenager, but damn, he was throbbing underneath you.

And when you unbuttoned his shirt, fingers dragging over his chest, rubbing his nipples under your palms, he swore under his breath.

“Fuck. You’re unreal,” he murmured.

And you just smirked, leaned in, whispering, “I know.”

God, the way you moved. Every roll of your hips was a tease, every drag of your nails down his skin was a stripe he wanted to earn. He gripped your jean-clad thighs thighs hard enough to ground himself, because he was floating somewhere between desperation and awe.

You rode him slowly at first. You wanted him to feel all of it, every breath, every tremor. And he did. 

Your pussy was buzzing with anticipation and you were impatient, but you wanted to savor this one.

You arched as his hips rolled up between your legs, anchoring your hands on his broad shoulders as he branded the shape of himself between your legs. And when he did it again, you moaned and tried to create your own rhythm, but he held you in place.

Ari had to stop you because he only had one shot tonight and he wasn’t going to throw it away and let you cum in your pants. When your orgasm hit, it would be with the slick walls of your pussy clamped around his cock.

So you did the only thing you could, which was to grind down harder on him, causing him to let out a shaky breath, finally moving you against him to get some friction.

"Fuck... let me feel you, darlin'."

Ari made a new rhythm, one he managed with his eyes locked on yours, hands roaming from your waist to your back, then tangled in your hair as you leaned in and bit his bottom lip, making him groan.

“You gonna fall in love with me, Ari?” you teased against his mouth.

“I think I already am,” he said, before he could stop himself.

You didn’t answer, thinking it was part of the game. You just smiled, leaned back, hands on his chest, and started moving faster, driving him out of his mind. 

Every sound you made wrapped around his ribs and squeezed. He didn’t know what felt better, the pressure building low in his stomach, or the way you moaned his name like it tasted sweet in your mouth. The feel of your wet, hot pussy through your jeans was just a bonus.

He'd slept with beautiful women. Charming women. Women who made love like it were their last day on earth. 

But you? You were different.

And the way you looked, curls akimbo, lips parted, eyes locked on his like you were seeing to the bottom of him, that image seared into him. 

He stood, picking you up effortlessly, grabbing you under your ass.

“I’m assuming that your bed is up here?”

You just nodded, breathless at his power as he carried you up the stairs to the loft where your king sized bed was.

He reached the top and dropped you on the bed. You bounced a little as he reached for you and unbuttoned your jeans, dragging them down your legs along with your panties.

Shit, he wasn’t wasting any time.

He stopped and proceeded to strip off his own clothes.

“Take off the rest of your clothes,” he commanded and you scrambled to comply, removing your top and your bra and watching him undress at the same time. You almost groaned at the sight of his cock.

You hadn’t always been a cock hungry slut, but you were a little obsessed. Ari was big and long, not the longest you’d had, but definitely the thickest. It was beautiful: veiny and flushed, with a large swollen head that leaked precum down his shaft. You knew it was going to be amazing when he stretched you out.

Then you noticed his balls. They looked full and heavy. You couldn’t help but lick your lips as you imagined how much cum he’d have for you. Ari smirked down at your wide eyes on him as he pushed your shoulders until you were lying on your back.

He hooked your thighs with his hands and dragged you until your ass was at the edge of the bed and you squealed with surprise as he lifted your feet up to his shoulders. This was quite the change from your usual three positions with your one night stands: missionary, cowgirl, or doggy style.

When he rubbed the his thick tip along your soaked slit, you closed your eyes and moaned. He tapped the entrance to your pussy with his cock, holding your hip to ensure that you didn't make him slip inside you.

Yeah. Ari wasn’t like other guys.

You felt the weight of him as he dragged his cock through your slippery, swollen pussy, smearing your slick all over him and you looked down, mesmerized by the sight. This was going to be good.

Ari looked down angrily.

"Fucking soaked for me," those blue eyes snapped up to yours, freezing you in place. "You always this wet?"

He licked those red lips and if you had a heart you would have been in trouble. You’d never been this wet with anyone before. You just shook your head no, not trusting yourself to answer, lest you have him thinking, correctly, that he was the shit.

But he read you anyway. That smile was both beautiful and annoying.

"For me? You shouldn't have... might get me addicted."

You scowled at him, but then you bit your lip as he started to draw circles on your clit with his penis. You were dickmatized again, eyes riveted to the spot as you moaned.

He tapped his cock against your clit to get your attention.

“Look at me.”

You looked at him through your lashes.

“Do you have any condoms?”

Oh no. Did you? You couldn’t think because of the pre-orgasmic haze you were in. Ari licked his finger and then brought it down to caress your clit while he waited for your answer.

That didn’t help the clarity of your thinking.

“Ch-check the top drawer.”

You gestured toward your nightstand, hoping it was the right direction. 

He left you, opened legged and bereft as he went on his mission, and you breathed a sigh of relief when he said, “Found them.”

Thank god. You were about to beg him to ride you bareback if he hadn’t found any. He sheathed himself and then moved back into his previous position.

He rubbed himself over your slit again, and you moaned.

“Right about here, between these beautiful thick thighs, wouldn’t you agree?”

He was driving you crazy. Your cunt was humming on a five at the bar, but he had ramped her up to an 11. You’d never been this desperate for a cock before.

“Just fuck me, please!”

He chuckled and lined the head of his cock against your entrance, but didn’t push home. He teased you for a second, before dragging it up and down one last time, just to see the look your face.

Beautiful.

“You sure about this?”

His voice was pure sin. You opened your eyes fully and glared at him.

Gorgeous.

“Yes, Ari. I need you.”

That must have been enough because he immediately plunged in, inch by glorious fat inch, straight to your core. 

“Oh fuck!”

Ari’s meaty cock stretched you out, and your head fell back in ecstasy as your hips instinctively arched to take him in deeper. You were panting from pure pleasure as you tried to adjust to his thickness.

“You like that? Like my thick cock in this little pussy?”

“Yes, God, yes!”

You couldn’t stop yourself from bucking against him to try to get him to move. He was still as a statue and his jaw was clenched from restraint.

“Tell you what, if you beg me to fill your pussy with cum, I’ll fuck you so hard your head spins. Deal?”

“Um…” you couldn’t form your thoughts to beg, or to realize that there would be no cum filling because of the condom.

“Why don’t you think about it and let me know,” Ari said casually as if he were talking to a customer browsing his gallery.

But he started thrusting slowly into your cunt as the electric current in his dick made you crave the roughness he’d suggested.  You tried to pull yourself together, but it didn’t work.

Ari was transfixed by your breasts. They looked delicious.

“Play with your nipples,” Ari growled.

You cupped your breasts with your hands and pulled at the stiff peaks. He continued his leisurely pace, except now everything was worse. Or better.

Every time you pulled your nipples, you felt a corresponding pull between your legs. And then there was the way he was looking at what you were doing, eyes half lidded and mouth open as you touched yourself. Fuck that was so erotic.

The pressure was building, but you knew you wouldn’t cum until he fucked you harder.

Ari stopped and pulled out.

“Nooooooo!” you cried, and he chuckled at you, as if he was amused.

“I really wanna make you cum, but I think I’m distracting you too much.”

You couldn’t think, but you didn’t want him to stop. A sharp smack against your swollen pussy lips made you yelp and a blast of delight surged through you. 

Holy fuck what was this guy doing to you?

When he slapped your pussy harder, you realized how completely fucked you were.

You would do whatever he wanted.

“Okay okay. Let me think…. Shit, Uh…” you were completely in a daze.

“Are you ready to beg me to fill you with my cum?” Ari reminded you of the question at hand.

He brought a finger back to your clit and rubbed devastating circles around it.

Jesus fuck, it was like he didn’t really want you to be able to talk. Catching a moment of clarity, you rushed it out.

“Please, Ari, fuck me hard and fill me with your cum. Pretty please. I just need your cum. Promise I’ll be the best fucktoy you’ve ever had, please?”

He gave you an evil grin and caressed your clit harder. You whimpered.

“Please, Ari. Need your cum.”

He stopped rubbing and you felt his tip nudging into you, and you were almost purring from the pleasure. He pressed in until he bottomed out, waves of bliss washing over you. You started trembling preemptively.

“Good girl,” he announced as he pulled out gently, only to slam back in hard.

“Oooooo, fuck, oh my god!” you gasped out as he fucked you ruthlessly. 

The sound of your moans mixed with the squeaking of your bed, and you continued to play with your tits which only increased your pleasure.

You went from one peak to another as you quickly spiraled toward your orgasm, Ari’s grunts each time he sank into you helping to speed you along.

“Such a….good… little… breedable…. Fucktoy…..”  

He slammed into you, groaning with every word. All it took was one brush of his finger to push you over the edge.

You screamed, “Oh, god, yes!” as you came all over his cock and writhed against him as he roared that he was cuming. New waves of rapture surged between your legs, traveling throughout your entire body.

He drilled into you for a moment longer, and the intense aftershocks were almost too much to bear. When he finally pulled out, the room swirled around you and you let out a tiny giggle. 

Ari did promise to fuck you hard enough to make it spin.

He went to the bathroom and disposed of the condom and then returned and pulled you up the bed to make you his little spoon.

You reveled in the smell of sweat and sex, almost getting high on the scent. You laughed softly like you couldn’t believe what just happened. But he knew. He knew exactly what happened.

He was ruined.

But you were a one-night promise, a walking fantasy with no intentions of calling back. And still, as you lay in bed with him, catching your breath, his hands on your body, Ari knew he didn’t want this to end. 

Not anytime soon.

“You don’t have to stay if you have something in the morning…”

You meant that to sound more definitive, like you were inviting him to leave, but Ari had wrecked you so much that you didn’t have the energy to be cold. That was the reason you turned, burrowed into his chest and let your eyelids get heavy.

Ari chuckled. 

“Don’t worry, Muse. I’ll get out of your hair soon. Just catching my breath.”

“... the fuck is Muse?...” you questioned on your way to sleep, the rhythm of his fingers on your thighs the nails in your coffin of sleep.

“You are. You’re my Muse.”

You didn’t quite feel the kiss on your forehead. But you smiled.

—----

In the morning, the light in your apartment was rude.

It filtered through the curtains like it had a personal vendetta, hitting your face just as you tried to pretend the night didn’t happen the way it did. Your limbs were sore in that satisfied way, like you’d run a marathon, but only with your hips. 

You stretched. Yawned. Felt the warmth behind you.

Shit.

Ari was still there.

He was on his side, one arm slung over your waist like it belonged there. His broad chest was on your back, and his nose buried in your neck, breathing you in.

You shifted. He didn’t move. Just tightened his hold with that annoying, possessive kind of tenderness.

“Morning,” he mumbled into your skin, his gravelly morning voice threatening to do you in.

“Mhmm,” you answered, noncommittally. You carefully peeled his arm off. 

“You can go, you know.”

That got his attention. He lifted his head, messy hair falling over his eyes, beard pressed with pillow lines. 

He looked like sex personified.

“Damn. No coffee? No kiss on the cheek? Not even a fake number on a Post-it?”

“Don’t make this weird, Ari.”

You’re out of bed now, grabbing your robe from the chair, ignoring the way his eyes tracked your every move. You knew the drill. One-night stands didn’t turn into brunch plans.

He propped himself up and leaned against your headboard like it was custom-built for him.

“Wasn’t trying to. Just… didn’t think you’d be in such a rush to forget me.”

“I’m not,” you lied, tying your hair up with a scarf, trying to be as unattractive as possible. 

You had no idea that to him you looked like the most beautiful painting he'd ever seen.

“I just like to keep things clean. No open tabs.”

“Hmm.” 

He studied you for a long moment, then stretched like a cat, unapologetically naked and smug. 

“You always kick people out like this? Or am I just special?”

You sighed. He wasn't making it easy. He was too comfortable in your space. Too charming. Too in your face.

“I didn’t peg you for the lingering type.”

“I’m not. But something about your bed makes me reconsider my brand.” 

He grinned. 

“And you snore a little. It’s cute.”

You whirled around. 

“I do not snore.”

He laughed. Like it was a private joke between you. It softened you for a second. Just a second. You cleared your throat and motioned down toward the door.

“Seriously. You should go.”

He nodded slowly, slid out of your bed and grabbed his clothes, treating you to the sight of him getting leisurely getting dressed. When he caught you watching, he grinned, and you scoffed, going down the stairs so you wouldn’t be tempted stare any more.

Ari walked past you, stopped at the doorway and turned.

“If this is your way of making sure I don’t catch feelings... it might be too late.”

That caught you off guard. He shrugged.

“It’s fine. I’m not asking for a toothbrush or a drawer. But if you ever want to fuck again… or talk about art… or do both at the same time…You know where to find me, Muse.”

He winked. The mutherfucker actually winked, then walked out like he didn’t just ruin your perfectly controlled system. 

You stood there, silent, heart hammering a little harder than you would have liked. And only when the door clicked shut did you whisper: 

“...Goddamn it.”

——-

Muse: Two

So… whaddya think? 🤔

[rmbunnie]

I'm reading A Lonely Place of Dying and Alfred latching immediately onto Tim is NASTY work. Tim shows up and is like "I never aimed to be Robin! I mean I did karate my whole life to emulate Robin and just so happen to have sought you out and grabbed this costume in my size out from that case and really you should be calling me Robin just for now and let me come with you as Robin but I never dreamed it would specifically be ME being Robin. You have a lovely house and home btw :) Now go back to being 10." And Dick's understandably like "No I am a grown man now who are you" and Bruce is not here for this one, but later on is like "You aren't Robin, you're some kid dressed up like my dead son." But Alfred?

IMMEDIATELY Alfred is implying Dick was trying to subtly ask Tim to be Robin (simply not true in in NTT 61, when the implication is made, although he changes his mind in Batman 442) and that Bruce should be grateful for this young man's profound bravery and immense natural skill and maybe show him a few pointers or something idk we'll see :) Like let's be clear, the idea that Tim didn't want to be Robin is simply not part of this story outside of like two lines of dialogue where he's like "oh I didn't consider it could be me!" after which he immediately goes "Wow so you ARE gonna let me be Robin right?" the second he sees the opportunity. The guy essentially makes himself Robin once Dick makes it clear he isn't gonna be. Dick tells Tim nobody should be at first (until he changes his mind) but is ignored because Tim doesn't get why and goes with what he understands, his own stance.

I'm of the opinion that the whole "Tim understands that being Robin is an arduous task full of suffering from the start and chooses to bravely yet sadly martyr himself for the cause" thing I see sometimes is strongly disproven, at least in the beginning of his Robin career, by his "Batman NEEDS a Robin (to love and care for and to watch out for him in return :) )" line of reasoning, his subsequent willingness for Anybody to be Robin whether or not it was him (unless he was consciously okay with other children suffering for his benefit which I find really hard to believe,) and his active glee at anything involving being Robin and persistent smiling pursuit of Doing So against Batman's strong disapproval, because he hasn't officially said no (he did several times, but you can't blame a kid for being excited.) Like, I think he said he never dreamed of being Robin just because having a kid come in begging to replace Batman's dead son because it was a personal aspiration would be extraordinarily rude and arrogant and they wanted people to like this one. He was NOT in any way adverse they just couldn't make him THAT presumptuous, and he is by nature of what he's doing already moderately so.

But say it was true, that Tim was actively opposed to being Robin? Alfred would be pushing this shit HARD onto this thirteen year old kid like what the fuck bro. And "From what Master Richard said, he follows your orders." is HEINOUS but let's not get into that.

[reneesbooks]

9 lines 9 people

ok confession these games scare me bc tagging people still intimidates me but i'm being brave today here's some lines i wrote a while back from the dragons of kiltide. just fabin having a little teenage angst. also this is 9 (11 but shh the context!!) paragraphs bc i still don't know how to shut the fuck up. thank you @space-writes for the tag <3

the raedoran cycle

[Fabin] tilts his head, pressing his forehead to the window frame. “What are dreams like?” he asks quietly.

Emilia sits across from him, watching how his eyes stare through the window but see nothing. She thought he'd left that behind in the weeks and months after their parents were killed, thought the long silences were finally over. She tucks her arms against her sides. “They're...like memories. Only more vivid.”

His fingers close around the hilt of his sword. “What do you dream about?”

She rolls her shoulders. “Places I've never been. Things I've never seen.”

One of his hands presses against the glass. “Do you ever dream of...of humans?”

She studies him with a worried frown. “Is there something you want to talk about?”

He recoils, his expression twisting with anger before it closes off. “No. I'm fine. I don't have dreams.” He turns away from her. “Never mind.”

Emilia sighs. “I talked Muiris down. He doesn't want to kill you anymore.”

“Good for him.”

“You should apologize for breaking his foot.”

Fabin turns to face her again, his eyes wide. “I actually broke it?”

tagging @oh-no-another-idea @zmwrites @akindofmagictoo @writinglyra @k--havok @lyssa-ink @aether-wasteland-s @ink-flavored @avrablake to share 9 (or more or less or however many you feel like!) lines of writing <3

[atamascolily]

The part about Urobuchi visualizing witches as kaiju (specifically, he thought of Walpurgisnacht as Godzilla) is true and comes from a Q&A panel at Animagic in 2013.

In an interview at Otakon in 2012, Urobuchi said

"When I wrote the script, I didn't have any of the witches' back stories. It was actually the designer [Inu Curry] who designed how they look and came up with their back stories. For the upcoming movie [Rebellion], it was actually that designer that brought me up to speed with their back stories."

See also this translation of a pamphlet released with Rebellion where Urobuchi talks about being perpetually surprised by what SHAFT did to visualize his work (he had no idea the Nightmare was going to be a 3-D stuffed animal, for instance). When Urobuchi said, "At this point, I really feel that Madoka Magica doesn’t just belong to me anymore", he doesn't mention Inu Curry specifically, but at this point, I think Inu Curry has contributed just as much or more for the franchise as a whole, especially if we take Magia Record into account.

The translated excerpts from the "You Are Not Alone" Guidebook on the Puella Magi Wiki also have a lot of information about the production process for the original series, including a comment from Mitsutoshi Kubota (Chief Executive Officer of SHAFT) that Inu Curry had a strong artistic vision for the witches that they refused to compromise on.

Given all of this, you can see why I have questions about who did what for Walpurgis no Kaiten, because you can't delve deeply into any kind of origin story for Walpurgisnacht in the script without either getting Inu Curry's buy-in or overriding them. I suspect Urobuchi just rolled with whatever Inu Curry (either collectively or Doroinu specifically, since he's the only one involved with WnK) decided, the way he did with other things, but we'll see what happens when the movie comes out. If that's the case, then the visuals and script will be more consistent with each other than they would be otherwise, but it will be highly ironic if the fandom ends up blaming Urobuchi for a plot twist or reveal that turns out be Inu Curry's idea from the very beginning!

For me, the biggest gap between the script and the finished series are the majuu (魔獣, "magical beasts") that appear in the final episode after witches are erased. What Inu Curry came up with wasn't anything remotely like a "magical beast"; instead, we got legions of identical Buddhist humanoid figures that the English translation called "wraiths" because the literal term in the script was so nonsensical in context. And it mostly worked out because the wraiths are only present for a brief clip at most, and then get name-dropped in Rebellion, but Walpurgis no Kaiten shows us a clip of them in action that suggests they're going to get more screen time (and also features the kanji for majuu to emphasize what we're looking at). But I think Urobuchi would have called them something else if he'd known what they were going to look like.

Re: the architecture/atmosphere/animation, I have thoughts. Oh, boy, do I have thoughts.

The thing about interviews related to Madoka saying that the Faust and Little Mermaid fairy tale elements weren't in Urobuchi's original scripts is that, while that's definitely true (there's a dissonance between what we see on screen and what the characters actually comment on, like in the Labyrinths), those elements are still impossible to ignore because they still work with the script to create the whole. Shows are collaborative efforts, after all.

(Like, you'll see people--generally people who watch tokusatsu--easily point out the similarities between Kamen Rider Ryuki and Madoka, and while they are there, I think the Devil is in the details and the visuals between both shows are wildly different from each other. The same way that Ryuki's visuals are nothing like Revolutionary Girl Utena's--which predates the former and is also a battle royale story about an idealistic young person having their beliefs challenged while a mysterious man orchestrates a series of duels/battles with his sister at the center of it all.)

But at the same time, I feel like Walpurgisnacht's name was at least original to the scripts. It's the only Witch whose name is spoken by the main cast, and it fits the general Witch aesthetic. But we really can't know the full details of the design process. It's kind of a chicken or egg situation there.

I feel like by Rebellion Urobuchi could have been more directly influenced by Inu Curry, though.

[theood]

WC ocs bouncing in my head. Fogthroat doesn't take on an apprentice for a long time. Being trained in the Dark Forest, grappling with that and what it means in his death he refused. And I don't think he told anyone. It was a silent thing. His mentor noticed the little scars, the messed up fur, the sudden change in his style but Fogthroat wouldn't talk about it.

And he still doesn't. Even now, as a well-respected (senior) warrior. He's just sharp. Sharp edges that won't be roughed down.

It doesn't help that Lionleap, even now, moons after they last trained together, still visits. Sometimes it's in his dreams but other times... Other times she's there. In the land of the living. And it bothers him. The way she taunts, the way she looks at him, the way she treats him like an apprentice who doesn't know anything. And she still acts like she cares. Sees her dead son in him and it makes his stomach churn because he's told her again and again he's not her son. He's not a replacement for her kit.

And when his leader finally does give him an apprentice, for months it's not great. He's a harsh trainer. They get to hear him loudly (and obviously) telling his leader that "I don't respect your decision. It wasn't the right one. Give them to another warrior. We have others."

Of course that doesn't happen. And there's a lot to be said of how Fogthroat could change, could grow, could see himself in this young warrior but he doesn't. He sees an arrogant little kit who doesn't know what's what. And they try hard to get his approval but no matter how good they hunt, how well they fight, anything, it's a cold shoulder and barely a good job.

Until one day Lionleap comments on his apprentice and Fogthroat breaks. Confronts her with teeth and claws, snarling and spitting for her to not lay a single paw on them. Not to touch a whisker or he'll come to the Dark Forest and kill her himself. He tells her as he has her pinned that she's not going to influence any more cats. She's done. Ends it with "I always wanted you to be good. I wanted to know... To prove you were. So when I died, I could get Starclan to somehow bring you back. Reunite mother and kit. But that's never going to happen Lionleap. You sealed your fate long ago. To stay here and die forgotten."

And as quick as the two were squabbling, she's gone. Very few words spoken. Leaving Fogthroat huffing, fur puffed out, the air heavy and electric.

The next time he trains his apprentice, outwardly, nothing changes. No one knows. No one will.

But finally, his apprentice hears him mutter out that he did good enough at hunting alone.

And that's a start, isn't it?

[walkman-cat]

kinda gay to be a detective etc. etc. you know how it is

[qvert]

Hello so everyone unperturbed by this can absolutely go on with ther day :D

But I just want to state for the record that I changed the aftermath art to fit CANON not the other way around

you know… so that other people could enjoy it too and not just @venomwrites even though I originally drew it as a gift to them before the finale even aired :)

Lots of love! I hope everybody is doing ok!

Oh gosh i feel like i have to caveat that my pre-ending of season 2 fics were written with 0 idea of how things were going to go. They are tagged with appropriate warnings here and on ao3 though.

The barricade fic was not written to be some torture porn fic. It was really meant to explore Caitlyn (unfairly) being made the scapegoat and her/Vi not reuniting until it was too late to stop anything.

I also didn't request any fan art be modified for it.

[crossbackpoke-check]

Substance, Shadow, and Spirit [remixed, abridged] by Tao Yuanming

[fluffs-n-stuffs]

Pokémon Horizons Episode 24 spoilers under the cut!

HEY AMETHIO BESTIE WHAT DOES THAT MEAN . WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

[hauntingblue]

The marines calling Roger the worst man of the world is something but considering ace renounced him and luffy kinda blindly admires him bc we don't really know much about what he has done past his travels....

[bunibelles]

Currently making a tres leches cake (at 3 am) and I think I messed up the sponge :’D Like this milk is not absorbing that well. Putting it in the fridge I hope tmrw it’ll look alright 🫶🏼

[ham1lton]

NOT A CHILL GIRL.

pairings: lewis hamilton x chronically online fiancée!yn

faceclaim: jordana brewster

summary: chronically online, funniest on the grid, and the proud owner of a face card that never declines—at least, according to yourself. your fiancé might raise an eyebrow at the first claim, the world might debate the second, but no one’s arguing with the third.

warnings: just jokes. don’t take any of this seriously.

author’s note: hope u enjoy bunny anon! :D

— small smau spinoff !

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

liked by lewishamilton, yourinstagram and 187,938 others.

ham1ltonshaderoom: celebrity stylist, and fiancée of f1 legend lewis hamilton, yn yln took to instagram stories to share some concerning posts. what do we think about these captions, ham1ltons?

view all 23,837 comments

yourinstagram MAMA I MADE IT

— user1 yn you have dressed some of the top celebrities and this is what you’re excited over??

— user2 forget that. she’s fucking LEWIS HAMILTON!!! and this is what she’s excited over???

user3 this is a v tame post for yn LMFAO

— user4 like she’s posted worse 😭

user5 she’s so unserious i’m obsessed

— user6 my fav wag

user7 i love the fact she’s dressing zendaya, showing up to her hot fiancé’s races and still finds time to shitpost

— user8 she’s so me

user9 she should be embarrassed. she’s grown

— user10 she will never see this btw

user11 i need to know lewis’ thoughts on these posts

user12 she’s the moment. i want to be her so bad.

— user13 successful in her own right AND secured the bag. #needtoBEthat

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

INSTAGRAM LIVE

yn i’m using lewis’ ninja creami to make slushies and sydney isn’t picking up her phone because she’s on set. so entertain me, my little gladiators.

user1 what flavour slushie are you making and why is it pure tequila

yn no. it’s a margarita mix. mostly anyways. all about balance babes.

user2 worst red carpet outfit request you’ve ever gotten?

yn girl some actor asked me to dress him up in head to toe camo… i wanted to be sick.

user3 yn, when’s the wedding? lewis is literally ready to propose again.

yn not until jungkook confirms he’s off the market. i need to know i’m not leaving options on the table.

user4 did you see lando’s post underneath your birthday post to lewis.

yn i did and i’m angry. how dare he be funnier than me on my own shitpost.

user5 who’s better at gift-giving, you or lewis?

yn me. obviously. lewis once got me a pen because “it looked sleek.” it was a nice pen, but still a pen.

user6 yn, if you could style anyone in history, who would it be?

yn harry styles but in 2012. imagine the chaos if he let me near those blazers.

user7 how did you guys meet?

yn via a mutual friend at a party. i thought his choice of shoes was disastrous and he thought i was funny. so obviously i went home with him that night. then i fell in love or whatever.

user8 you are literally the blueprint for chaotic but lovable. never change.

yn never will, little gladiator. never will.

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

liked by yourinstagram, thirstystan1 and 1,098,125 others.

lewishamilton: sunday best, thank you theststyle

view all 19,827 comments

yourinstagram why won’t this damn app swipe RIGHT?!?!?

— lewishamilton wrong app sweetheart

— yourinstagram oh shit 😓 can you show me how to download the right one? ever since ashley madison shut down and farmersonly.com banned me for “unsolicited flirting,” it’s been tough out here.

— lewishamilton maybe try clownsonly.com—heard they’re taking new members.

— yourinstagram wow. this from the guy who once googled “how to impress a bad bitch” and got caught.

— lewishamilton a bad bitch was impressed, wasn’t she? checkmate.

— yourinstagram yeah, well, don’t get used to it. also, happy valentine’s, loser. 💖

— lewishamilton happy valentine’s, clown. ❤️

— user1 y’all are some weirdos 😭🩷

user2 YN GIVE HIM TO MEEEEEE

user3 #NEEDTHAT

— yourinstagram #TOOBAD

— user3 YN PLEASE 😭😭😭😭😭😭

user4 need this relationship NOW

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

— all works taglist: @luvsforme @yelenasloverrrrr @donttouchthegnote @chelle1306 @bloodyymaryy @km-23mr @stinkyjax @f1kenzzz @ctrlyomomma @aliciaablueprint @theblueblub @namgification @tallrock35 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ariellovelynn @shhhchriss @lifeless-firefly @xylinasdiary @evie-119 @itseightbeats @landososcar @velentine @m1892 @blushmimi @evans-dejong @nixisracing @lethalvenus @sainzluvrr @santanasaintmendes @idontknowlmaoo @sainzluvrr @tetetoni @ssprayberrythings @heavy-vettel @tashisgf @daniskywalkersolo @c-losur3 @lestappenslover @linoscrly (see yourself tagged when you don’t wanna be? or you want to be and don’t see yourself? send me an ask!)

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

[diabetesnscoliosis]

Yeah so I think a lot of ppl tend ti reblog shit in good faith but when people are making oneu off of deceiving you, no. Yoi habe to be a bit more critical. The far right gets in so many movements bc of this. They're the ones making money off of this

[creatingblackcharacters]

No, That’s Not ‘How Color Works’. - Whitewashing

Whitewashing, as defined by Merriam-Webster:

"to alter (something) in a way that favors, features, or caters to white people: such as a) to portray (the past) in a way that increases the prominence, relevance, or impact of white people and minimizes or misrepresents that of nonwhite people and B) to alter (an original story) by casting a white performer in a role based on a nonwhite person or fictional character"

In fandom context, we know it to include:

Making someone’s skin lighter

Making someone’s hair a thinner texture

Changing someone’s nose to be thinner

Shrinking their lips

Changing the character in their entirety to be someone else

The Normalization of Whitewashing

Remember how I mentioned last lesson that despite the nature of poorly drawn Black characters, most audiences are not turned off enough to discourage the action in professional works? Similar idea with whitewashing. Not the same- unlike the Ambiguously Brown Character, which claims to have plausible deniability, overt whitewashing is usually enough to make fans speak up! But that’s the key word here- overt! It has to be “bad enough” to make enough people speak up, but as we’ve seen many a time, “bad enough” seems to have a much higher threshold for nonblack viewership (sometimes the limit doesn’t exist!)

Some visual examples

This is a link to my personal thread on a Netflix show I was watching- Worst Ex Ever. Now, while the show itself was quite enlightening, there was something I could not get over. I thought I was going crazy. And that was that no matter how dark the person of color would be in real life, the animated portions would draw this light pinkish-brown. Every. Single. Time. It's like they couldn't fathom scrolling down the color wheel. And this is a Netflix original! Netflix has plenty of money for someone to have caught this in creation. But... it was produced. And put out. And they're making more of it.

I asked all of the Dragon Age fans about the series, and uh… I didn’t know things were this bad, guys! Apparently this is a man of color, but it doesn't seem like the creators want you to know that 🤣. Jokes aside, as I’ve discussed before, the noticeable whitewashing- and that was one of many racist things I was told- was not enough to prevent sales... so why would they stop? I can only hope this new game, with all the updates, is enough to turn the tide. But the series has gone on for a while now, that if they’d chosen to do ye same olde… there clearly would not be a lack of financial support to prevent it.

Colorism as a Tool

Even when actors of color are cast, colorism often plays a role in normalizing whitewashing to audiences, even to Black audiences! People think “oh well at least they’re Black!” as if that is the only important part. It is not.

While Aaron Pierre, the actor cast for John Stewart of Green Lantern fame, is a GORGEOUS, STUNNING man, he is not the dark-skinned man that John Stewart is supposed to be and should not have been cast! To me, this is overt colorism, but clearly for many people this is not “enough” to warrant concern or even prevent the casting itself- including the studio behind the movie! Black fans have plead for years for the character of Storm to be played by a dark-skinned, preferably African, woman, and it has never happened.

It naturally happens in fan spaces as well, which is another indicator that colorism as a tool for whitewashing is quite effective for audiences. If I see one more Zendaya fan cast for Kida from Atlantis, I will scream. It’s been happening for years, and I don’t think any of the people who just want to see her and Tom on screen either understand or care that Kida is a dark-skinned character. Zendaya doesn’t look anything like Kida- it doesn’t matter if she’s Black too! Just because someone is Black does not mean they can play every single Black character! I’ve even seen people fancast Emilia Clarke of Game of Thrones fame, to which… I don’t have the words. I can’t fathom what would cause these decisions other than racism.

The Common Excuses

I must be honest. I don’t really feel like re-iterating how certain things are not okay and how to fix them, because I’ve already discussed these things in massive detail. So I’m just going to direct the excuses I regularly hear to my lessons, where you can read up on them.

“Their hair/eyes are like that because they’re biracial so-”

Relevant Lessons: 2.1, 2.2, 2.3, 8, 9, 10

There is nothing wrong with having biracial characters with a range of features. I am not saying that! Because yeah, genetics do happen!

But I mentioned this in my last lesson, and I will re-emphasize here, that using biracial identity as a way to whitewash is a sinister form of racism. The intention here- the real intention- is the issue here! The idea that somehow this character can only look the way you want them to look by "diluting" their Blackness… I don’t know how you can explain yourselves out of that one.

You don’t get to use us as an excuse for diversity while still trying to maintain your preference for Eurocentric beauty standards. Black biracial people don’t always look light skinned, thin-haired and ambiguous, and even the ones that do don’t deserve to be treated as your fetish for pretend antiracism. If you just want to draw a white person with a tan, do that. But don’t change a character’s entire look just so you can work in some whiteness. If you want to claim that canon Black character’s mother was white, then I guess they inherited some of her personality because their features should not change.

“It’s my style/It’s the color-”

Relevant Lessons: 3, 4, 10

I hate all excuses for whitewashing, but I’ve grown to despise, hate, abhor and loathe this one the most as I’ve become an artist. I wish there were stronger words to describe just how much I hate the “style” and “color��� excuse.

Are style and use of color oft intertwined? Absolutely. I’m not saying they aren’t. But out of everything, there are two things I want artists to understand:

1. Style does not cancel out racism! No style forces you to choose ashy greys and to change peoples’ features. That’s you! If you look at something, and it looks offensive, you change the style. You grow as an artist!

2. “Everyone who is brown will look ashy so I just-” if you recognize that your Black characters look strange in comparison to your nonblack characters, then it’s time to try something else! I don’t understand this sudden need for “realism” when it comes to color and lighting, but not when it comes to hair, for example. No one cares about realism when giving every and all Black characters wavy tresses they probably wouldn’t have, but suddenly milquetoast watercolor attempts at brown and off-putting lighting is “how it works”. That’s not fair.

The color picker is an available tool! I use it often!

Dead giveaway of purposeful whitewashing: if someone gets the outfit color palette right via color picking, but the skin color is multiple shades lighter. That means they were looking at that character and chose not to proceed.

Dead giveaway of purposeful whitewashing: if the white characters in the show are completely correct in their palettes. Again, that means they cared enough to look at everyone else… and not the Black characters.

If you use the color picker and the color picked is… disrespectful, you do not have to use that! You can simply choose a better color that is still similar to the brown that ought to be depicted!

“It’s the lighting-”

Relevant Lessons: 4, 5

If your white characters do not shine like snow in the sunlight because of your lighting, then your lighting does not make your Black characters suddenly light tan.

If your Black characters look bad in your lighting of choice- for example, putting a very dark-skinned character in electric white lighting can be ghastly- try changing the intensity or the color of the lighting. DON’T change your character’s skin color!

I'm going to show you some pictures of South Sudanese model Nyakim Gatwech. Pay attention to the choices of light, color, and makeup.

Look how BEAUTIFUL she is! Look at the choices of intensity and color of light, and how they make her look different in each image.

Now look at this image in comparison:

In this image, whoever did her makeup and took this picture did not take into consideration her skin tone. She's also under this really intense lighting. This is an example of "increasing the lighting does NOT make an image "better"". She didn't need to have lighter skin or "more lighting" to look good. She needed BETTER lighting, lighting that worked with HER.

To see this as an example in drawn art, @dsm7 makes an excellent argument for proper lighting and color, why it is an issue to use it as an excuse, and how to solve that problem.

‼️DISCLAIMER FOR NEXT EXAMPLE‼️

Okay. I am about to show y’all a fan-created example from my personal experience. It is a TEACHING EXPERIENCE ONLY. I am not including the artist’s name in this image. It happened a couple years ago, and it’s over- they’ve chosen to be who they are despite me kindly confronting them about it. The only reason I’m including it at all is because I feel like it would be remiss to have such a clear-cut, multi-level example, and not teach with it. That said, no, I am not telling anyone to act out towards them. Again, that is not what I’m telling you to do. The last thing I need is a literal lynch mob of angry nonblack viewership for trying to teach you all, and y’all sitting there watching it happen to me. Every example of whitewashing is not going to be so obvious, but I hope you learn how to spot the examples in the art you see and share.

I'm obviously a Hades fan, particularly of Patroclus- despite my disdain for the lack of effort in his canon character design. So I've seen a lot of things. That said:

“Well it’s just MY design of them-”

Relevant Lessons: ALL

The sepia coloring did not do this. The lighting did not do this. The design is the exact same as the Hades version, even down to the shape of the hair curling in the back. The only thing that is different… is the man himself.

Y'all. Y'all! You CANNOT take a pre-existing Black character and say “oh well this is my design of them” …and the design is of a whole white person. Because if the rest of the fit is the same, and the only thing that changed is the Blackness… Racism. If you’re going to “make up your own design”, then do that!

“Blackwashing”

Speaking of: I’m sure someone edgy out there thinks they’re so smart as they retort to the screen: “but if that’s not okay, then why is Blackwashing okay?” To which I say- shut up. 😐

The “definition” by fandom: making a nonblack character Black, usually an anime character, but characters in general.

Funny enough, the actual definition in the dictionary (or closest to) is “to defame”, in contrast with whitewash (as in whitewashing history). Maybe racist fans ARE using it correctly when they say you’re blackwashing their characters, when they mean you’re making them “less likable because they’re Black now”. 🤔

Anyway: Blackwashing is not real for the same reason reverse racism is not real.

Me painting these characters brown is not going to take away from the fact that there are far more of you in media than there is of me. Me saying that I ‘headcanon a character as Black with 4C hair’ is not going to make the studio go “oh! Well they must be Black with 4C hair now!” Me saying “oh I think I’d like this character better if they were Black” as a beta tester (less overtly, obviously, because I’m not racist!) will never make a studio change that character. Black viewers have minimal value in comparison to the power of the white viewer’s dollar. I could draw white characters Black every single day of every single game media… and they would still produce majority white characters. There has not been centuries- if not millennia, when we consider Jesus Christ himself, even- of purposeful “Blackwashing” with the intent of removing the original ethnicity- and thus importance- of white people. No one has ever been allowed to forget when someone is white. No one has ever been allowed to forget or not acknowledge white people.

How it could be "solved"

Personally, I love Black edits and I welcome them here. I find them creative and fun. But if you really, REALLY didn’t want us to make those edits, then naturally, we need more Black characters in all of our media!

I wouldn’t have to make edits if I saw more of me to begin with in the things I like to watch- but when we have those characters, racists act an ass about them. We’re not allowed to even be present! I’ve seen too many gamer bros mocking the existence of Yasuke in Assassin’s Creed, and he was a real ass man. But if we made a game about African peoples in African societies, how many of the gamer bros would actually play those games? Do you think there’d be as much support, when we hear so much about Black characters that are treated so abhorrently? How many games do we have where people would love their faves just as much if they were Black? I even learned that Solas was apparently supposed to be a man of color. IMAGINE how many people would not have liked that man, with the same exact plot and characterization.

Something I’ve noticed recently: apparently "Blackwashing" is not a thing when White fans “allow” it. Take this recent trend with Miku. International Miku was beloved! But if you draw any other character as Black on any other day, there will be people that are horrid about it. Ask any artist, Black artists and Black cosplayers especially, who’s ever done it what their comments are like. I’ve read entire missives akin to white supremacist drivel on how it’s somehow morally wrong to make characters Black. Meanwhile no amount of “hey maybe you shouldn’t do this” prevented the movie Gods of Egypt from being created, with a cast full of British White people.

Solutions to Avoiding Whitewashing!

1) Using References!!

Do I think you should know what Black people look like? Yes. We’re humans. It’s 2024. Everyone knows what we look like when it’s time to hate and discriminate against us, so you know what we look like when it’s time to love and depict us. If you’re on Tumblr, you have access to the Internet. ESPECIALLY if you’re in the U.S., as Black people are the source of damn near every piece of online pop culture. If you can find my dialect to make my jokes, you can find pictures of me.

Would I rather you use a reference every single time so that you can only strengthen your depiction of my people? ABSOLUTELY.

Anyone on the Internet telling you not to use a reference or that you shouldn’t need a reference? Unfollow them. You don’t need that negativity in your life. Why would you deprive yourself of a tool to create? The greatest portrait painters in history had to look at their subjects! You are not getting paid nearly as much to do this as Hans Holbein, and he had to stare at Henry VIII correct else lose his head- you can pull up multiple references. I’d far rather be judged for using hella references than be judged for being a racist!

Part of the issue is people draw what they’re used to, what they’re comfortable with (thus last lesson). But if what you’re used to is not what someone will look like… That’s not okay. Their features are not the issue, your skills are the issue. Learn! Practice! There is no rush. No one is rushing you to be perfect at drawing Black characters, and no one is rushing you to post them. You can just practice! If you’re not a professional, you can take as long as you need to draw! If you need to draw that piece of hair over and over until you feel like you have down the shape, you do that! If you need to use a tool that would draw the hair for you, you get that tool!

If you want to post, you can say you are practicing! If you make clear you are practicing, then be willing to accept that people may have feedback. I’d far rather deal with someone saying they’re unconfident and practicing, than someone posting a whitewashed caricature and closing their ears because “well at least I’m trying!”

2) Empathize! Care about actual Black people when you create a Black character!

Imagine, if you will, in the Twilight Zone: you went to an artist, and you asked for a white character (I typed in “regular looking white dude” on google). There’s hardly ever any white characters, you’re so super excited about this one! You paid good money, because you’ve seen just how amazing this artist creates! They’re so good at drawing characters of color! But no matter how many times you ask, they send you back an image of… Assad Zaman.

That man might be fine as hell! Gorgeous! Beautifully done! Chef’s kiss. Stunning! But… He’s not white. That’s not what you asked or paid for. You can’t even fathom how they mixed this up, they don’t even look alike! And when you confront them, they gaslight you, they call YOU the issue for not understanding how you can’t tell that this is a white man! They would never get this wrong! They have white friends, you’re the racist! But you’re not stupid, and you have functioning eyes- you can SEE what this drawing looks like! And… It’s not you.

It’s dehumanizing. It’s being told that there’s a “better way” to look like you, and that’s by… Not looking like you. You, as you exist, are what’s incorrect. Your identity is incorrect, not their drawing. It’s better to have thinner hair instead of an afro or locs, it’s better to have lighter skin, it’s better to have a straighter, thinner nose over a round one, and smaller lips.

And what makes it worse is knowing that people who don’t look like you? Probably won’t care. They won’t be willing to see- not unable, but unwilling- that playing with this caricature is harmful, that they’re propagating harm by not acknowledging it. They’re letting you know that your humanity means less to them than the clout received with a whitewashed or half-assed Black character, and that people will applaud them for that ‘attempt at inclusion’. And people will applaud! They will be entertained by the mere performance! And that hurts.

I’m going to say this, and it’s awkward and I try not to say it directly on here, but… Having Black friends and/or being around actual, real life Black people would help. I can tell from some of the questions I receive that Black characters and their traits- especially things like our hair and our cultures- are being treated as… alien concepts. But even if, for whatever reason, you legitimately don’t know any Black people, you do not need to know us individually to care about our humanity as a whole! Even if you do not know we’re there, we are, and we could possibly see your work!

By acknowledging Blackness and making room to understand what it means- and that includes how we can look- you are doing the bare minimum of acknowledging our personhood. If you cannot do even that, you don’t need to be drawing us.

Conclusion

Here’s the thing: if you want to draw a white man with tanned skin, do that. Just do it! You do NOT have to erase me to have more of you! There is not a single fandom where the majority of the white fans ever said “gee, not another white guy!” It simply doesn’t happen. God knows we wish it did sometimes. You will always have an audience for white characters. There’s no danger to any of you of “being erased”.

(Without putting on my political hat, I will say that a lot of white people who consider themselves to be far from white supremacist will express beliefs in line with great replacement theory if you push them hard enough. It is unfortunately not as uncommon an idea as you might think. I would do some self-evaluation.)

People are going to notice that you only ever draw white people, but… To be frank, that has never stopped anybody from being successful. Again, Jen Zee, at Supergiant with the terrible dark-skinned characters… Still has a job. at Supergiant. A professional studio. Dragon Age. Multiple games of consistent whitewashing and racist writing. Still going. If racism prevented creation and popularity, I wouldn’t have to have this blog. Alas, that is the society we currently live in.

But if you ACTUALLY want to depict Black characters, if you ACTUALLY want to do right and be respectful- not because you want the clout, but because it’s the right damn thing to do- then you need to commit! This means drawing them as they are meant to be! Accept that you’ll likely lose some fan base, who was there (whether they were aware of it or not) for the white and lighter skinned characters. Accept that this means that trying to appeal to those people by whitewashing characters is 1) wrong, 2) racist, which is 3) something you chose to do when you could simply have just… Drawn more white people.

I’ll say it again: antiracism is hard. It’s hard doing the right thing in a society that rewards racism so easily. It’s really hard knowing that people will stop supporting you or caring as much about your work when you start including Black characters as actively as you do white ones, especially if you start talking about the importance of it. But in my honest opinion, I’d far rather be someone that cared about others, with genuine fans, than someone that was racist for the fleeting internet clout of strangers. And that may be less ‘hopeful’ than I normally am in these lessons, but… People make choices. And people who have been informed- as you are now- are aware of the choices they are making. It’s the thought that counts, but the action that delivers- let’s choose better actions.

[thecreelhouse]

stuck

Paring: Steve Harrington x Fem!reader

Summary: Yes, it’s exactly what you think it is. MDNI

WC: 4.6k+

Includes: no plot all filth, unrealistic “stuck” porn trope, friends to horny idiots, dirty talk, pet names/name calling, unprotected PiV sex, oral (f receiving), briefest mention of monsterfucking, brief anal play, a smidge of humiliation kink with a healthy side of a praise kink, d/s dynamic, etc.

A/N: Literally got this idea from a certain filthy piece of DBD fanart that I can’t find, but if you know the one I’m talking about, please lmk so I can properly credit for the inspo!! Is this ridiculous? Yes. Was this originally for Halloween? Also yes. We hate rules here (and deadlines). Hope y’all enjoy it <3 (dividers from @/saradika-graphics)

Everyone told Steve he was insane to venture back into the Upside Down, but he couldn’t leave you there alone. 

He felt sick for even leaving you behind at all. Quite honestly, no one felt good about evacuating without you, but it was smarter to go home, gear up, grab another working walkie, before wandering back into hell to find you.

See, among the chaos of trying to help Eddie, trying to keep Max alive, he worried about you and your unusual absence from the group, but you were strong enough to handle nearly anything— that much, he was confident on. You had fought side by side with him over the years, protecting everyone in the group, and one another; through demodogs, a shit summer job gone awry, and anything in between, you could hold your own with a bravery he wished he didn’t need to front at times.

That didn’t quell his anxiety one bit, though. When and where you had disappeared to, he wasn’t sure.

It wasn’t until your voice broke through over the airwaves, when Steve, Eddie, Nancy, and Robin were on the lake, that he felt relief you were at least alive. Your voice was tinny through the static.

“Guys?”

The only reason a signal existed at all was because the group floated just above the gate at the bottom of the lake— they just didn’t know it yet.

Steve had just thrown his sweater off, ready to dive in, when the sound of your voice made his eyes widen. 

“Holy shit, give me the—“ He rocked the tiny boat a little too much for anyone’s comfort as he fell to his knees, grabbing the walkie from the floor. “Where the fuck are you?!”

“Hi to you too, Harrington.”

Robin yanked the device from Steve’s grip, “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

“Long fuckin’ story, but—“ Your voice cut out, static filling the dead air for a few seconds. “And that’s—“ Cut off again. “Upside Down, but I- I don’t know where I am, exactly. Why didn’t any of y’all tell me how bad this place sucks?”

Steve laughed to himself, unaware his eyes became glassy, hearing the familiar attitude and sailor’s mouth you carried; the other three noticed just how relieved and emotional he was right away. He grabbed the walkie back from Robin with shaky hands.

“We’re gonna come find you, we think we found a gate,” He rushed out. “Are you safe at least?”

“For now, but these—“ Signal cutting out, Steve hit the walkie a few times, as if that’d fix the disconnect between literal dimensions. “— Th- they’re everywhere. I don’t know where to hi— oh, shit—“ Your end fell dead again, leaving the four on edge, waiting for you to speak. White noise droned on for less than a minute; you weren’t coming back. 

Wasting not a second longer, Steve dove into the dark, chilled waters of the lake. He found the gate they suspected of, and broke the surface to alert his friends. As he relayed the information, rushed and panicked, wanting to find you as soon as possible, something tugged on his leg. Only startling the group at first, Steve was caught off guard, pulled under, back down to the bottom. He kicked, struggled, lungs burning as he fought off the urge to gasp for a breath he couldn’t dare to take.

It was all a blur, being dragged through the gate and tossed around like a rag doll; the bats diving towards him, finding an oar to defend himself with among the Upside Down’s mirrored decay of the lake, only to be bombarded by the gnarly creatures. They tore at his flesh as he was being strangled to death; brain growing fuzzy as he put up a good fight, he began to accept this fate. He wasn’t sure when his friends came through the gate, but one by one they retaliated against the bats, leaving just the one still strangling Steve.

“Get fucked!”

Unexpectedly, you appeared, slamming an ax— one you always left in your trunk, just in case— down onto one of its wings, chopping through completely, yet it still tried to flee as Steve bit down on its tail. Stunned, you all watched as Steve swung it around, slamming it down into the ground before violently ripping its spine out, fueled by pure rage.

Blood dripped from his mouth while he glanced up at you, rage and fear fading as relief flooded every inch of his heart. Despite your ragged appearance— covered in grime, soot, and blood— he was just happy to see you alive; a sight for sore eyes.

“I fuckin’ hate those things.” You wanted to run and hug him, but restrained yourself at the sight of his wounds. Taking in the sight of all four friends, you sighed, “Y’all okay?”

Another screech in the sky tore everyone’s attention away, “C’mon!” Where everyone ran off to the rocks, you made the mistake of running off in the opposite direction. The group of bats split off, heading towards both you and the others; when you looked over your shoulder, you watched Steve do the same, panic fueling you both to run for your lives.

You sprinted off towards the woods, hoping you’d find each other again soon, and alive.

Steve climbed back through the gate in Eddie’s trailer, and had searched for what felt like hours; he was losing hope of finding you by the minute. He knows you; you wouldn’t give up without a fight. You had to be alive, but dread was still building within him.

At least he caught a signal over the walkies.

“What do you mean you’re stuck?”

Your voice warbles through the speaker of Steve’s walkie, barely coherent through the sharp static. 

“Okay, okay, where are you?”

“The— g—“ Feedback rips through your words, shrill and sharp. “I’m tr—“

“You’re cutting out—“

“Gate! I’m—“ A drone of white noise floods the speaker, and you’re gone.

“Shit. Fuck. God-fucking-dammit!” He hits the device with his free hand, slams the buttons and messes with the knobs and antenna— if only he actually paid attention when Dustin tried showing him how to work this fucking thing.

He did hear you say ‘gate’ at least, but which one? You clearly weren’t at the one he just entered, and the one at the lake had closed up by now. 

This would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.

Steve’s exhausted, searching high and low for you, at every possible spot that crosses his mind. It had to have been another hour since he last heard from you, and he’s running out of ideas of where you could be.

“Checked around town,” He begins murmuring to himself, listing and eliminating options out loud. “No luck there… but— shit, didn’t check the library…” Could a gate even open in there? Anywhere was possible, right? And if that was the case, he’d have to tear through every room of every building, circle each structure, check any cars, houses, sheds, backyards, parks, the woods—

Christ, at this rate, he’ll never find you—

“Oof!” Steve loses his footing, tumbling over something in the stretch of woods he was combing through. Colliding with the ground, he groans on impact.

“What the fuck?”

Steve rolls over quickly, sitting up to find he had tripped over you.

“Oh, thank fuck.” He scrambles to his feet, brushing debris off his body as he finally glances your way.

When you said you were stuck, Steve didn’t picture the sight before him now; you, halfway through a gate found in a tree trunk, unable to move because it began to close up around your waist. Your upper half is on the other side, but your bottom half is still stuck in the Upside Down.

“Oh…. You’re… wow, okay.” He snickers, “Yeah. You’re stuck, alright.”

Steve’s muffled cackling echoes through the slimy gate. You huff and roll your eyes; not like he can see.

“Just help me out of here, would ya’?!”

“Okay, okay… Jesus.” He drops to his knees, still towering over you— well, your back half, at least. “Does it hurt?”

“No, it’s just fucking annoying. Maybe try, I dunno, pulling at the edges of it, or something?”

“I don’t think that’s how these things work—“

“Steve!”

“Okay, right, yeah, sorry.” He bites his bottom lip, stifling more laughter. It’s certainly an… awkward position, leaning over you from behind, but it’s the only way he can pull at the edges with both hands at once. He gives the gate’s edge a tug, but it’s stone solid. He tries again, this time with a grunt that has your mind wandering elsewhere. “Yeah, this is, uh… that’s not gonna work.”

“Oh my god, I’m stuck here forever,” You groan, kicking your feet. “I’m gonna die here.”

“Calm down, drama queen. Gimme a second, I’ll try again.” Steve keeps himself balanced on one knee, while the other leg plants a steady foot into the ground. Again, he attempts to pry open the gate, hoping to free you; his foot slips, causing him to rub against your backside.

Okay, ‘rub’ is a generous term— more like roughly falling against your ass, then whining over the pressure on his bulge.

“Steve, what the fuck?” You crane your neck, only able to see where the tree bark opens up into the gate, snug around your waist. “Did you just—“

“I didn’t mean to, I swear! M- my foot slipped!”

“Oh, bullshit.”

“Look, it’s not exactly the easiest to move around you without touching you right now,” He argues. “You really think I’m trying to make a move on you in a situation like this?!”

“Well, I can’t see shit, Harrington. I don’t know what the hell’s going on back there.”

Ignoring you, Steve murmurs, more to himself but loud enough for you to still hear, “The hell are you wearing these tiny shorts for, anyway?” He tugs at the hem around your thigh, elastic snapping back against your skin. You bite back whatever pathetic noise threatens to escape your lips.

“It was warm out earlier!”

“It’s March—“

“And unreasonably warm for March, y- you jerk.”

“That why you’re shivering?”

“Considering the sun set, uh, yeah?”

You grumble, annoyed how wet this easily has made you. You need out, and Steve needs out, too, and the two of you need to just forget about all of this.

“Okay, just—“ You can’t think straight, mind clouded with dirty thoughts— how embarrassing. “Push me through.”

“You… want me to push you… how?”

“With your hands, St—“

“I know with my h— I meant, like, where?”

You can’t see the way he licks his lips, staring at your ass, but you sure can hear the strangled moan he miserably tries to hide in his throat. 

“Wherever works— I don’t know, I’ve never been stuck between dimensions before!”

He shudders a breath before calling through the gate, “I’m gonna— if I touch anything I shouldn’t, I swear to god I’m not trying to—“

“Okay, yeah, I get it, Steve— just push me out of here!”

“Christ, you’re fucking bossy…”

His hands grip the plush of your hips, first, hoping he can grip hard enough and push this way— it’s useless; his hands lose grip, sliding up your body. His knuckles run into the tree, and he’s grateful for that barrier; who knows how far his hands could’ve slipped. He yelps and recoils away. “Sorry!”

“Dude, I don’t care, just do whatever works.” You sound exhausted, and who wouldn’t be in a situation like this? You had to have been here at least an hour, and even if it doesn’t hurt, it can’t be very comfortable. 

Steve shakes his nerves off, hands reaching for the back of your thighs; his fingers splay apart, pushing as hard as he can, and you finally begin to budge. It’s not much, but it’s a start.

Until you cry out for him to stop. “Shit, that fuckin’ hurts— It’s— ow, fuck! My hips—”

He immediately backs off, hands releasing pressure, but still resting gently on your thighs. It’s automatic, the way his thumbs rub slow circles into your exposed skin to try comforting you; the shorts you’re wearing are not helping either of you. It was warm out earlier, like you said, but did you have to wear these now?

Goosebumps prickle up under his fingers, and it’s hard to miss the way you clench your thighs together. 

“You, uh…” Steve gulps, fingers gently kneading at the meat of your thighs. “You okay over there?”

“Uh-huh,” Your answer isn’t very convincing, with a trembling voice. “Everything okay back there? W- with you, I mean.”

“Sure, yeah, it’s… I’m good.” He feels like such a pervert, fantasizing about taking you right here, like this. It’s wrong when you’re trapped like this. “Honey, I- I don’t know what else to do.”

The pet name twists at a coil deep within you, building up a pressure of some kind. 

“This is gonna sound fucked up, but just— push my ass— Steve, that better not be you laughing!”

He can’t hold back his immature giggling, but he’d rather this than moan.

“You sure? I don’t want you to get mad or anything.” He tries to settle down, focus on getting you unstuck. “Tell me to stop if it hurts again, alright?”

You imagine hearing those words of sweet consent in a different circumstance, biting back a whimper. “Ye- yeah, I will.”

Steve slides his hands up to the curve of your ass, unable to restrain himself before digging his fingers into your soft, plushy body. “Gonna count down, sweetheart, okay?”

This time a whimper does beat you to the punch before you can actually reply. He squeezes a little harder.

“Three… two… one—“ Steve shoves his hands against you, pushing as hard as he can. Again, your hips shove up against the tree trunk, and you cry out from the pinch. He pulls you back an inch, wincing with guilt. “M’sorry, I—“

“Again,” You boldly call back to him.

“… You sure?”

“Just do it, please,” His hands are so warm, touch so soft; you wish the fabric of your shorts would just disappear. There’s an extra whine to your voice, “Don’t hold back, I can take it.”

“Oh, fuck…” He mumbles, sucking in a sharp breath. “Go— I’m gonna try again, ready?” He hears a faint noise of consent, shoving himself into you; this time, his hips rut into you, too. You still can’t get through the gate, but you’re not sure that’s either of your concern at this moment. His bulge, rock-hard now, brushes up against your ass, and you both moan out. This is bad.

The way you push back against him isn’t helping much, either.

Both of you still, falling silent while trying to steady your breaths. Are you really about to do this here? Now?

Steve makes the decision for you both, muttering, “I can’t fuckin’ take it anymore.” He’s purposefully grinding against you, head lolling back with a groan as you push into him in return. From either end, both of you are shuddering out sinful noises. “Always wanted to kiss you first, but—“

“As soon as you rescue me, y’can kiss me all ya’ want.”

“Shit, princess, never took you for the damsel in distress type.” He tugs your shorts down, choking on air when he discovers you’re completely nude underneath. “Jesus, did you think at all about your outfit today?”

“Uh, considering I don’t have a bra on… no.”

“You don’t have a—“ Steve comically pouts that part of you is through the other side of the gate; he’s grateful you can’t see the pathetic expression. “What, did you just roll outta bed and stroll down here?”

“Steve, the longer we talk about the logistics of my outfit, the dryer I’m becoming.”

“Good thing I can help with that.”

“Okay, that was goofy to s— oh…” His thumbs spread your folds apart; despite your failed quip, you’re soaked as sin. 

“So fuckin’ pretty…” He leans down, kissing the swell of your ass, trailing his lips down your backside until he’s level with your heat. There’s no warning, just his tongue gliding along your folds, lapping up your arousal. A feral sounding groan vibrates through your core as he loses himself tasting you. It’s not rushed— not on purpose, at least— but any restraint is long gone now.

“Oh m’god,” You shudder while his tongue swirls around your clit, sucking it softly. His arms wrap around your thighs from behind, hooking you in place. You twitch back, like you’re desperate to grind on his face, but worried to freak him out.

Steve’s far from freaked out; in fact, he’s delving his tongue deeper, nearly incoherent when he mirrors your earlier words, “Don’t hold back. I can take it.”

That’s all the permission you need, rolling your body back as far as the gate allows, trembling as he sloppily makes out with your cunt. If only you could see the glistening mess on his pretty features. “Steve…”

He angles his nose against your clit just right, making you squeal into the empty forest around you. His tongue laps away, eventually tapering to fuck into you with it.

“Fuck, more, ple- please,” You pant, grateful Steve’s holding you upright, or you’d go limp against the tree. “Please— god!”

He slides a finger into you, curling it just right as he kisses and sucks back to your clit. He’s rougher this time when he suckles on the sensitive bud, rolling your eyes back and tensing your body up. You chant his name in whimpers, like a desperate prayer, only urging him to finger fuck you harder.

“Jesus, sweetheart, you’re gripping me so hard.” He groans into you, adding another finger. “Taste so good, I could be here all night—“

An orgasm startles you, going 0 to 100 without warning; lewd noises floating back through the gate toward Steve only challenge him to keep going.

“S- Steve, ha- hang on—“

“You want me to stop?” He slows his pace, but you ram yourself back into his hand and lips.

“No! Please, god, no—“

“Then what is it?” His tongue flits out, teasing around your sensitive nub.

“M- move your fingers up, back where you had it— ohhhmyfuckinggod—“

“C’mon, come for me, y’can do it again,” he coaxes, spitting onto your folds while relentlessly ruining you with his thick, long fingers. Your legs tremble wildly. “I can tell you’re close, angel. Make a mess, come for me again—“

This time, you cry out, praying whatever woods you found yourself in was deep enough, away from the public. Your hips twitch and convulse, while you flutter around his digits, soaking his face while he continues to delve deeper, as if that’s even possible.

The pumping pace of his fingers never relents, despite how overstimulated you feel already.

“St- Steve…”

“Got one more in ya’?” You feel his hot breath fanning over your folds again. It’s not long before he’s flicking his tongue back out, teasing your clit while adding another finger. “Christ… yeah… yeah, angel, that’s it…” He laps at the nectar dribbling from your centre, grunting as his free hand pulls you by your thigh, guiding you to bounce against his face. The fingers buried in you curl just right, earning a broken, breathy noise from the other side; he hits the right spot, and under a minute in, you’re gushing against his pretty face.

You can hear how drenched he is when he speaks, licking his lips between his words, “That was… oh, fuck, that… that was so… can we do that every day?”

Winded, you manage to laugh weakly, “If you can figure out how to get me un-stuck, I’ll let you do that as much as you fuckin’ want.”

You’d kill to see his face right now, dripping with your release, but until then you’ll just need to use your imagination.

“…. Can we—“

“Please.”

The head of his cock slides along your folds, teasing as it runs over your sensitive clit. You jolt back, and he grips you by the hip, holding you in place with one hand.

“Be patient for me, angel. I don’t wanna hurt you,” he slides in, taking his time, paying attention to your gasps. “You okay?”

“Uh-huh, ju- just go slow.”

Like earlier, when Steve tried pushing you through the gate, he soothes you with his touch, thumbs rubbing soft circles against your skin. He sinks a bit further, feeling you clench around him with anticipation. “Angel, gotta relax to let me in…”

“I- I know, m’trying, you’re just— you’re so… so…”

“Shhh, it’s okay, I have you. You’re okay…” He slides deeper, hips almost flush against your backside. “Just relax… that’s it, that’s my girl.”

The praise elicits a pornographic moan out of you, only triggering his cock to twitch against your walls.

“God, wish I could see your face right now,” his mumbling fades into a gravelly groan, sinking deep into you. 

“Y’can if you fuck me when we’re outta here,” you strain out, taking him to the hilt. His cock twitches again, making you both shudder.

“I dunno, what if we can’t get you out, sweetheart?” The tides turn with his tone. He pulls out slowly, teasing your clit with the head of his cock. You twitch and clench around nothing, making him smirk. “What if you’re stuck here forever?” Slamming back into you, your walls clamp down on him, tighter than before. “Oh, what, you like that idea?”

“Steve…”

“You wanna be left here? Where anyone can walk by, use you however they want?” He draws back, snapping his hips back into your ass, relishing in the way you cry out. “Anyone can find you in the woods over there, use that pretty mouth of yours…” Gripping your hips, he pulls back slowly, thrusting in with everything he’s got. It’s becoming a torturous pattern, but he can tell you’re enjoying it with the way you’re soaking his cock. 

“Oh my— fuck…” You gasp from the other side, throwing yourself back into him as far as the gate allows you. He grunts as you meet his thrusts.

“You’d be up for grabs over here too, y’know…” Hands trailing back to your ass, he spreads your cheeks, spitting lewdly on your pretty, puckered hole. “But maybe you’re not that much of a freak—“ You don’t hold back the sinful sound building in your throat over his unfinished concept. “Oh. Oh. You’d like gettin’ fucked by some monsters too, huh? That’s so fuckin’ gross, babe.”

“That ain’t even the half of it,” you manage to reveal through panting and whimpering.

His mind races over the possibilities, slamming into you a little faster.

Steve circles the tight entrance with the pad of his thumb, throbbing deep inside you as he tests the waters, sinking in just a bit. You squirm and whine, relaxing as he continues on, eventually making it past his knuckle— which, wouldn’t be too much, but with the size of his hands, you feel so full off that alone.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight, I don’t think I’ll l- last long,” he murmurs while he pistons his hips into you, growing sloppier by the minute. 

“S’okay… m’not…” You can’t grasp onto the words you need, not when he’s fucking you absolutely brainless between dimensions. “God, Steve, you’re so deep.”

His thumb slips out of you, leaving you emptier than before, making desperate, pathetic mewls and cries. Ignoring you, his hand slides underneath, pressing down onto the peak of your mound. “Where do you feel me? Here?”

“N- no, deeper…”

Steve splays his hand wide, fingers blanketing over your skin; he inches his touch up, just where your belly and pelvis begin to meet. The further he stretches his touch, the more he leans over you, kissing along any bare skin on your back he can reach.

“Here?”

You shake your head, but he can’t see. Your lapse in verbal response earns a smack on your ass, causing you to cry out into the expanse of the woods. 

“Where, babe? Tell me.”

“Up,” whimpering, you push back into him. Hand gliding up to your belly button, he stops.

“Here?”

Eyes rolling back, you let out a broken sob, “Yes!”

Steve pushes down on your belly, just enough for the pressure to meet his thrusts.

“You’re takin’ me like a slut… sound like one, too.” He grunts while bucking wildly into you. His hand disappears, only to join the other in grabbing you by the thighs, nearly lifting your lower half off the ground against him.

The sound is absolutely what you’d expect from two, hopelessly horny idiots, fucking in a circumstance like this one right here. Skin on skin slapping roughly, echoing out into the woods of the Upside Down, in time with his near-feral grunts and throaty groans. On your side, in your world, you can only imagine how close to an injured animal you might sound like, or someone in actual distress, unable to cover your mouth as you hold yourself up while he fucks into you relentlessly.

“M’pretty close, angel,” Steve pants through the gate, hips stuttering while he still gives his all, thrusting mercilessly into you. “Where—  where can I—“

“‘Side…” You groan out, lost in a lust-driven delirium.

Attitude softening, he manages to ask, “In— you mean inside?”

“Uh-huh, wanna be full,” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear. “Make me yours—“

“Oh, fuck,” Steve’s hips freeze over your words, finally reaching his high. One final cry tears out of you as your fourth and final orgasm trembles through your body, rolling into his. The delicious squeeze and fluttering around him helps milk his release, doing just as you asked, filling you up with his spend. 

Involuntarily, his entire lower half twitches violently into you, and finally, finally, the gate gives, allowing him to tumble through to the other side, shoving you out first. He lands on top of you, rolling over onto the forest floor while you both groan. The woods are quiet, aside from occasional crickets and your loud, ragged breaths, weaving through the branches above.

Though the two of you are ready to fully collapse, the squelching sound of the gate constricting catches your attention; the damn thing closes completely.

Steve chuckles weakly, while you push past any shame that might still linger, shyly smiling over at him.

“Hey…” You attempt to greet him, now that you’re face to face— which, speaking of, his features are still glistening from sweat and your multiple releases. 

“Hi,” he breathes, eyes trailing over your figure, landing and pausing on your exposed core, dripping a lewd mixture of fluids. “Fuck…” He leans forward, but stops himself, mumbling, “If we weren’t in the woods, I’d, uh, help clean you up, but…”

Your eyes widen, taking in his words; neither of you are in a state to fuck around any further, but you make a mental note of the suggestion for the future. “I’m— I’ll remember that.”

Surging towards him with an ounce of renewed energy, you capture his lips in a long-awaited kiss. He makes the cutest noise of surprise, melding against you. Pausing, he murmurs against your lips, “Sorry we couldn’t do that first.” It’s a wild shift in his demeanor post-sex, from a dominant, feral wreck, to this soft, precious person before you.

“We can make up for it though.”

“After a super long fuckin’ nap.” Then he cringes, “And the— y’know, the whole—“ He waves his hand around, rolling his eyes, “the Vecna thing.”

“Right. Yeah. Priorities.” You’re looking forward to all of this coming to an end. All you want is to curl up in bed with Steve, and sleep a whole day away, but that’ll have to wait. 

As clarity brings you back down to earth, you realize you’re still naked from the waist down… which means— 

“Um… Steve?”

“Yeah, angel?”

“… Where’s my shorts?”

[pinkiemachine]

I am still waiting, Hishe…

Kal: Bruce, there you are — what in the world?

Bruce: Hey Kal.

Kal: Who are all these kids?!

Bruce: My Bat Family. I’m a dad now.

Kal: Since when?!

Bruce: Since 1940. Try to keep up.

Kal: I thought it was just the one! Hi, Nightwing.

Dick: Hi Superman! Yeah, I have siblings now.

Kal: And how’s that working out?

Dick: Most of us have died at least once.

Kal: …What?

Bruce: Hey Kal, check it out. This one’s super smart, and we have matching coffee mugs.

Tim: :)

Bruce: This one…

Cass: …

Bruce: Actually, this one scares me. And this one glows in the dark! Heheh!

Duke: :D

Kal: I can see that…

Damian: Father, I’m hungry. When are we having dinner?

Bruce: How many criminals have you caught today?

Damian: *holds up three villains* Is this sufficient?

Bruce: Eh, it’s good enough. Here. *tosses him a tofu hotdog, like just the dog part* Keep working on it. Three more and you get the bun.

Kal: *horrified silence*

Dick: Hmph! When I was Robin, I could catch at least five criminals before dinner.

Tim: Oh my gosh, Dick, no one cares!

Jason: No one cares about anything in this stinkin’ family. Where were you all when I died, huh?!

Everyone: *groan*

Damian: Quit being such a drama queen, Todd! It’s not like losing your life is the end of the world!

Tim: Yeah!

Damian: You shut up. The only thing you’ve ever lost is your spleen.

Duke: And his parents.

Everyone except Damian: *parental trauma* AH!

Bruce: I told you never to mention that!

Kal: I can’t believe what I’m watching… Does Alfred know about this?!

Bruce: Yeah, totally, he’s cool with it.

Kal: *narrowing his eyes* I have a very hard time believing that.

Bruce: Well, he works for me, so shut up.

Kal: What about Catwoman?! Does Catwoman know about this?!

Bruce: *nervous* Um… well…

Damian: *suspicious* Who’s Catwoman?

Bruce: *very nervous* No one.

Dick: Oh, he is so dating Catwoman!

Tim: Why didn’t you tell us?!

Jason: What if we don’t want a step-mom, huh?!

Bruce: Woah, hold on now —

Duke: Look, you’re upsetting Batgirl!

Cass: …

Bruce: Alright, that’s enough! We’re not gonna talk about this anymore! Because —

Everyone: *annoyed* — you’re Batman!

Bruce: No! Because I said so! …And also, yes, because I’m Batman! Cause Batman says so!

Kal: *smirking* More like because you’re Bat-Dad.

Bruce: >:(

Kal: And hey, where’s Barbara? I thought she was Batgirl?

Bruce: *nervous* She was…

Kal: …Bruce, what did you do?

Dick: Oh, don’t worry, Superman, Barbara’s fine.

Kal: Oh, thank goodness.

Jason: She’s just paralysed from the waste down.

Kal: Bruce!

Bruce: It wasn’t my fault! She’s not even technicially my kid!

Kal: Bruce…

Bruce: Oh, don’t you “Bruce” me. I’ll “Bruce” you… “Bruce” you in the face.

Kal: Okay, that’s it, you are not allowed to find any more sidekicks starting right now!

Bruce: *holding up Harper* What about this one?

Kal: No!

Bruce: *holding up Spoiler* This one still has a parent — I can just be a mentor.

Kal: No!

Bruce: Well, gee, Kal, what am I supposed to do with all the orphans in Gotham, then, huh?!

Kal: Do you hear yourself right now?

Bruce: I have a system, Kal!

Kal: That’s it! There’s only way to solve this!

*Superman grabs Batman, and they fly off*

*Batman then appears on the couch in Therapist Harley Quinn’s office from the new Batman animated show*

Harley: Alright, why don’t you start by telling me about your childhood.

Batman: *leans over* Do I have a story for you.