#the size difference compels me so

[hungerpunch]

love to have called this wall calendar back in august. they took their time cooking it for us but we knew it was coming and now it's here and yes i've lost my mind. 13 photos of valtteri butt-ass naked in high resolution all over aspen. and here paul is the night of the launch in the same "arm around my baby" pose from back then

bc that's his baby

val calling paul a bear (on a photo he took of paul shirtless and sleeping). then daring to look soooo-- munchable and girlfriend and baby boy with paul's arm slung around him. then prancing into a field to get naked in front of him and let him take pictures. is everyone here with me are we all seeing this

[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki

♡ TW: omegaverse, size difference, somewhat subjugating omega politics, old-fashioned high-class politics of sorts

♡ GN reader

Bakugou doesn't tell people about his home life, so you can imagine the Bakusquad’s utter surprise when they invite themselves over only to find out he has a little omega housewife waiting for him.

“Oh, hello,” you say when the four additional Alphas pour in through the door after your Katsuki.

They all look at you unblinking. The biggest one, a redhead, doesn’t seem all that surprised—as though he’d had some suspicion that’s now been laid to rest. But the other three, an electric blond, a guy with raven hair, plus a woman with cotton candy curls, look at you as if they’d just stumbled upon a mouse in a lion's den—all slightly horrified at the sight of you.

Your alpha, the tightly wound grump seething with annoyance, stomps over to you and plants a quick kiss on your hairline. “They just barged in,” he grumbles under his breath. “Sorry if we scared you.”

You hum calmly in turn, “That’s okay. I heard you yelling in the driveway, so I wasn’t surprised.”

The four members of the Bakusquad are all gobsmacked at the domestic sight—the boss, their boss, their hard-headed macho boss, bending over and apologizing to this little omega half his size.

“Are you hungry?” you ask, peaking over the breadth of his hunched shoulders to the others with a warm smile on your pretty face. “I just finished dinner.”

“No,” Katsuki growls grumpily and winds his arms around you—like an old, tired dog, voice gruff, “Uninvited intruders don’t get my dinner.”

You only giggle it off, brushing his stubble with a soft hand, gently handling him further down to your level so you could place a kiss on his other cheek. “Oh, stop, Katsuki. Be nice to your friends.” 

Then you walk off to the kitchen.

Calling out sweetly over your shoulder, “I went a little overboard, so there’s more than enough for everyone.”

And by god, if they don't fall in love with you right then before they’ve even got a single word out.

But love at first sight isn't all so strange. None of them have ever seen an Omega outside of on film—much less been hit with the scent of one. They're all bewitched and confused at the feeling as they trail after you as if they've been compelled by some higher power.

"Please sit," you smile, gesturing to the long table where only two seats have been made. "Katsuki, hon, help me, please"

They all scoot into each their unplaced seat while your big lousy Alpha begrudgingly helps set the table for the unwanted dinner guests. They remain silent as you serve them like the perfect homemaker—all crimson-cheeked and ashamed at how they sniff after you as you pass them by.

You sit just as brightly despite the awkward tension. "Please, enjoy."

They all obey, eating in utter silence—every single one of them trying hard not to stare—and all failing miserably.

Kaminari's the first to speak, having been left shaken by curiosity he no longer could contain.

"So... did he kidnap you, or?"

It's a fair question to some extent. Omega's are a dime a dozen, all regulated strictly by protective institutions. You can't just find one to mate like in the old days. You need to apply for one and be vetted—not to mention they cost a fortune.

"Denki!" Kirishima whisper-shouts in admonishment, shaking his head from across the table.

"What? I'm I the only one who's thinking it?" he throws his hands up and defends.

Katsuki's fist strains around his fork, but you lay your mit atop his, and he calms down shortly.

“Don't worry, Mitsuki and Masaru made the arrangements and paid the dowry," you giggle, running your hand through your Alpha's ashen hair with fondness in your eyes. "I was a graduation present of sorts. They worried Katsuki wouldn't take care of himself once he started working and thought having a mate might help him with his busy day.”

If Katsuki appreciates you spilling his business like that, he doesn't say anything about it—just continues eating.

Denki sighs and sags in his chair. “I always knew Bakugou’s folks were loaded. How nice...”

Sero grins, “Your jealousy is showing.”

Denki pouts, “I’m not exactly tryna hide it.”

"Yeah..." Mina pipes up. "Can't deny I'm jealous, too."

Sero's grin falls as well with his confession, "Yeah, me neither, actually."

You keep smiling sympathetically, "Well, you're all welcome here—I don't mind the extra company."

"Really?" Denki lights up.

Mina and Sero, too—in awe and in unison, saying, "She's an angel."

"Get yer own," Katsuki grumbles. "Now shut up and finish your food. Then you're leavin'—all of you."

"Oh, come on, man," Denki whines. "Have a little pitty for your fellow Alphas."

"Let's stay respectful, guys," Krishima buds in lightheartedly. "Think about what you're asking."

Then, rethinking the conversation, the other three all realized how it had sounded, even though they hadn't meant it that way. And they all blush even darker than before.

And still, you just smile—alphas are all so cute.

Especially your hyper-protective one.

♡ prequel ♡ BAKUGOU KATSUKI masterlist ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[daddyricsdoll]

“Fuck, I’ll make it fit.” Ollie bearman..I barely see fics of him. Make it long please.

Ohhh well since his f1 debut luckily there’s more fics about him, and he’s becoming more popular so us Ollie girlies can expect more. But also shout out to the people already writing about him!! 💗

⋅˚₊‧🧸ྀི ‧₊˚ ⋅

“It would be illegal if we didn’t.” I start pulling Ollie’s fireproof off. Breathing deeply with our bodies close. Answering his question of whether he should touch me in ways we’ve only done once before. But now he’s an F1 driver, it’s different, he’s different. From the way he makes contact to my skin with more confidence and a different type of control he has on me.

My body bare, fully stripped of clothes as it’s only Ollie’s fireproof that’s left on him. My hands forced it down his legs to rest around his knees.

Releasing his dick and watching as it bobs up right in front of me. Precum dripping from his angry, red tip. A silent but devastatingly loud beg to be inside of me.

Forcing my pussy to clench and make it more than certain that I’m dripping. “Please” I breathe out. Moving back and sitting against the massage table, giving me better access to lift and spread my legs wide. Observing the way his eyes lock onto my core, and he fails to suppress a moan. Goosebumps grow along my skin as Ollie begins to align his cock with my entrance. Remembering the pleasurable struggle it was for him to push in last time, and how I’ll never grow accustomed to his size.

Thrusting into me so slowly I can memorise each nanometre. But the burn distracts me from everything else.

“Fuck, I’ll make it fit.” Ollie grunts out. Going deeper and deeper, certain to hit every spot. My hands clenched in tight fists and mouth agape. Whispering a string of “fucks” under my breath. My stomach already tight at the first thrust, so when he makes the next I can’t help but pull him closer to me. Trying to hold control over his actions, but my body somehow feeble after seconds.

Unable to hold back the pornographic sounds leaving my mouth as Ollie pounds inside and out of me. Shifting my whole body with his movements and making it impossible for me to think.

His dick sliding inside and out of me on repeat like a broken record. And my eyes turn glassy from each sensation, whether it’s a sear or throbbing feeling.

Attempting to praise him but words fail to leave my mouth, leaving all the speaking to him. Nearly melting at the way he’d utter words to me. Whether he’d repeat my name or tell me “you’re so good for me.”

Just craving to lay my mouth against his skin, kissing and sucking love bites onto him. Giving him the kind of love that words can’t. I latch my lips onto his skin, favouring his neck and collarbone. Endlessly clenching around his girth when he emits such indescribable but such arousing groans and moans from his pink lips. Matching the same shade as his flushed cheeks.

I could tell how eager Ollie was to release, trying to hide his vulnerability but he knew I could see past that.

“Mmmm ‘been such a good boy, you can come.” I moan out. Barely seconds later Ollie reaches his climax. Pulling my head closer to his to steal my breath in a staggering kiss. Not just stealing my breath, but composure to hold the knot in my stomach. Coming around his dick crying out his name.

Still even after an experience moulded just for me, I need more. As my addiction to Ollie becomes even more compelling, I bring my mouth to his ear, only warning him for my spree. “How many points did you get again?” I whisper, grinding my hips and watching the avidity grow on his face.

[cosycafune]

CHOSO'S GUILTY PLEASURE

1.4k words. choso’s usually unwilling to take you from behind. however, seeing you so gushy, filled with him, from missionary, leaves him curious. how can he resist your doe eyes and your batting eyelashes? that’s like depriving himself of his favourite sight: you.

acts: missionary, creampies, unprotected sex, back shots, messiness, teasing, slight rough sex, cuddling, sizing, size difference, fluff, size difference and new experiences.

a/n: if he had enough time, he'd eat it from behind.

BATTERED, filled immensely, your twinking eyes greet Choso’s loved ones. Grinning, you softly glance up at a satisfied Choso – unwilling to allow his devoted self to pull out. Inevitably, you knew Choso had a heavy breeding kink – so you couldn’t help but entertain that occasionally.

Admiring a trembling Choso, you observe his divine features contort with satisfaction as he lodges you with his heavy spurts of cum. Situated in missionary, you involuntarily tighten around Choso – gasping at his immense arrays of baby batter swelling your womb.

“Cho’, are you trying to get… me pregnant?” Breathily taunting him, Choso gently gifts you deep thrusts – his neverending sexual urges insatiable.

“I wouldn't mind seeing you full, marked with my child,” Responding choppily, Choso continues to needily thrust into your mystical cunt.

Compelled by your gushy, soppy cunt, Choso shakily grunts and whimpers within your ear tenderly. Biting the shell of your ear, Choso casts himself into furthering his colossal cock – admiring the lewd ivory ring around your cunt. Observing your cunt accommodate him, sucking mercilessly on him, completely enthralled a pussy-stricken Choso. Nothing within him longed to pull out, whether or not your family’s fated to return in an hour.

Content, mellow at the prevailing mess on your girly sheets, Choso shifts his lips upon your own – caging you with his hearty love. To you, each whimper, grunt, wail or cry from him was enough to ignore everything within the complex world. No, it pushed you into longing for him to take you from behind – his fertile balls slamming against your swole clit.

“Cho’, do you want to try something new?” Questioning a halting Choso, you elaborate – battering your eyelashes suggestively.

“Hm? What’d you wanna try, my love?” Curling up at Choso’s whiny, gruff response, you grow immensely flustered.

Unable to tame the stammering of your heart, you involuntarily avoid Choso’s intimidating gaze – struggling to command your breaths. Sexually yearning, your ample breasts rise and fall – prompting Choso into gifting you a boyish grin. A boyish grin before he so deeply bucks his toned hips into you, watching you cutely arch – forced to greet his commanding, lidded eyes.

“Want you to take me from behind,” Pouting, planting your request within his ears, you softly moan.

Right now, you fruitfully had to conduct your intimate point – unwilling to puddle at Choso’s monstrous cock ruling your abdomen. Even with your cute stomach bulge being prevalent, and your smaller frame beneath him, you knew you would have to convince Choso. After all, doggy style was a position he openly frowned upon. Choso fell completely disheartened whenever you suggested it, not longing to be departed from your face.

The concept of denying himself each contortion of your sex-driven face, your bouncing breasts, your rolling eyes, and the drool that consistently puddles from your lips, he disdained missing it. Not having you before him, gasping while he creampies you, filling your womb with contentment, causes him to waver slightly.

“‘You sure?” Gently questioning you, Choso cunningly withdraws his cock from your soppy cunt – glancing so eagerly at you.

“I’m so sure, Cho’,” Whining, reassuring him, you curl into him drawing you impossibly nearer to him – relishing each curve and contort of your physique.

Lulled by your consent, Choso compels himself into softly admiring you shift onto your back. Observing you, your back ethereally arching, Choso grins towards the swaying sight of your bubble butt.

Stitched with a hungering desire, Choso bites his lips – whining at the plump curve of your cunt. Simply seeing the fattiness of it, his trails of thick semen fluttering out of your stuffed cunt, broke Choso’s self-restraint. Just seeing your bubble butt so marked up with love bites, tingling, and faint slap marks, made Choso feel so dizzy.

“Fuck, you look so good,” Trembling with longing, Choso voices his lustful thoughts – bringing you closer to him.

“Take me,” Egging Choso on, you softly whine.

Scrambling Choso’s mind, you slip your fingers towards your flaunted cunt – lewdly rubbing your cum-stained clit. Taunting a breathless Choso, you softly moan – allowing him to see your fingers endowed with his cum. It made you grin heavily, wishing you could witness the flustered tint on Choso’s face. Such a thing made you moan louder, completely consumed by Choso’s low gaze watching you play with his webbed cum on your squelchy, dripping cunt.

“Shit, ‘need you now, baby,” Grunting, Choso voices his primal longing – steadying his hips so painfully near your own.

“Ah! I’m yours,” Mewling, you playfully speak, gently posing your doughy ass before Choso’s rubbing tip.

Gasping, you hungrily feel Choso’s overpowering fingers knead your spongy ass. Needily moaning, you tremble at the feeling of Choso’s wide cockhead. Innately, he nudges his pulsating cock against your fluttering folds — listening to the squelching that emerges.

“So warm,” Choso lowly grumbles, teasing you through submerging his smooth cockhead into your cunt.

Enchanted, Choso admires your cunt suck on the tip of his cock — pushing him into subconsciously nudging more of him in. More while you almost falter, leading to him using a single hand to steady your hip — consuming you entirely.

Unable to halt your stings of desperations and mewls, you jolt at Choso’s arising curiosity. Curiosity that he feeds through burrowing his ample cock further into your devouring cunt, watching it mould and stretch around his abnormally thick cock.

“Mhm, can you handle…it?” Cunningly questioning you, Choso observes your physique almost crumble.

Naturally, you’re struggling to take his cock from this angle — feeling a deepness that penetrates your fluttering abdomen. Breathless, you’re beautifully gasping — sexually mulling over Choso’s prominent neediness.

“Mhm, ‘can…handle,” Attempting to convince yourself, Choso fuzzily chuckles — burrowing his degrading cock so deeply within your yelping cunt.

“Ah! Cho’!” Trembling with intricate pleasure, you crazily weep with satisfaction — your eyes sensually rolling back.

“So…deep,” Whimpering, Choso relishes your vaginal warmth — his ears warming at the overbearing sensation.

“You’re…twitching already?” Muttering your inquiry, you purr at the deep feeling of Choso’s cock — enthralled.

“Ngh, s-so…warm,” Choppily speaking, Choso subconsciously begins to thrust into you — grasping your doughy ass to further his cock.

Desperately consumed by his longing, Choso firmly holds up your ass cheek — admiring how obedient your cunt is. Smitten, he admires the thick strings of his old cum that lingers — along with the snowy ring that adorns his veiny cunt.

“M-More…Cho’!” Pleading, your mouth drools consistently — your features smeared whorishly against the sheets.

“Mhm,” Choso’s mentally strained, consumed by the gushy, macaroni sound of your voluptuous cunt.

Buzzing, insatiable, Choso fixates on your puffy cunt vacuuming him in — prettily flaunting his lodged cock. Lazily grinning, Choso can’t help but instinctively thicken his pace — listening to your strained moans.

“Hmm! Yes!” Moaning frantically, Choso thrusts eagerly — growing lost within the hypnotic warmth of your cunt.

“This…position,” Choso gasps with his words, his pace growing rougher and needier.

Trembling, clenching around Choso with gluttony, you beautifully cry towards the harshness of Choso’s rhythmic hips. They cause you to viciously arch, completely compelled and contorted by the largeness of his balls slapping against your soppy clit.

“D-Don’t know if I…can last,” Enveloped by Choso’s jittery words, you feel him harden drastically — completely stuffing himself within your alluring cunt.

“S-Same,” Gifting yourself the chance to release, you subconsciously tighten around Choso — feeling him completely falter.

“S-Shit!” Clampering vigorously around Choso, you listen to his heavy moans — unable to restrain his ethereal pace.

Incapable of holding your overstimulated self up, you gasp at Choso’s fertile punches of cum — kissing your womb. Nothing within you held a beacon of strength, rendered into a stuffed mess.

“‘So good.” Muttering sluggishly, Choso softly pulls out of you. A blissful squelching sound flees from you, leaving you content.

“Baby, it’s almost…eight,” Tiredly warning you, Choso snuggles within your nude arms — seeking indefinite comfort.

“We have five minutes left,” Lovingly responding to him, you glance down at your cum-swelled physique — basking in Choso’s physical vulnerability.

“We’ll get…caught,” Slightly bothered, Choso informs you. He relishes the gentle curves of your breast, enamoured by your thunderous heartbeat.

“Mhm,” Replying to Choso, you simply nod — settling a kiss upon the top of his head.

“One more thing,” Content, Choso speaks up — lulled by sexually exhausting you.

“Hm, my love?” Attentive towards Choso’s voiced needs, you question him — smothering his flushed cheeks with peppered kisses.

“Lemme take you from behind more often,” Flustered, Choso murmurs. His beautiful face lightly scrunches with irritation; his usually aloof facade is missing.

“Always,” Grinning, you breathily answer — overwhelmed by Choso’s heartfelt gaze.

His eyes always twinkle with love. After this, you knew everything would change.

—

do not copy, modify or claim any of my works as your own. all rights reserved; cosycafune. 2024

[catboybiologist]

So y'all may have noticed I've been posting a lot about progesterone lately. I'm at the point on HRT (just passed the 9 month mark [with the asterisk that my levels didn't get good until 7 months or so]) where I'm actively considering it. I'm waiting a bit more for a couple reasons, but its still on my mind a lot.

And it bothers me how much the "no compelling evidence for progesterone" line is floated around. And this is true, for the exact case of breast size in transgender women. And yeah, maybe this study has been done.

But I have two things that I think should be said about this:

1, there will never be a clinical study that studies the exact niche case of person that you are. That's why thinking about when results can be translated from a different group that has been studied, to your group. In my opinion, most information about cis female hormones can be translated to trans women. There's far less of a physiological difference than people think, and most of those differences are dictated by hormones anyways.

2, progesterone has an enormous number of effects beyond breast development, in both cis and trans women.

Why do I bring these up?

Take a look at this review paper (if you can meaningfully read it):

This is a review paper that I somehow only just stumbled upon that summarizes a lot of my thoughts about progesterone that I developed from other sources.

It primarily uses data from cis women, but also supplements with data from trans women when applicable, about the effects of progesterone. And, as can be seen just by the sheer number of topics addressed, it finds a diverse set of functions that it regulates and improves. At that point, any breast growth that may or may not occur is a happy side effect.

Progesterone is part of normal female physiology, just like estrogen. So why the hell is it not standard practice with HRT the same way that estradiol is? It just needs to be applied later. That's pretty much it.

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Chapter One

An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff. I love her and all her art so much that when I saw Ralak I was so compelled to write a fic for him. I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Teytey, you knocked it out the park with this one (as you always do, my love).

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19)

Warnings: shit ton of fluff, profanity, age gap, a lot of sexual tension, size difference, let me know if i forgot anything?

Word Count: 4.4k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: I hope I did this gorgeous man justice and wrote his character well. It was an interesting challenge to introduce his character and build a plot with it. Chapter two and three will be out shortly! I’m beyond overjoyed that you guys are excited for this 😊 I hope I don’t disappoint lool

Synopsis: Your family seeks uturu with the Metkayina in the village of Awa’atlu. You have a difficult time adjusting, and are assigned your own special teacher, Ralak.

Next ->

The Sully family adopted you from birth, taking you in as their own. They were more than patient with your delayed milestones, moving at the slow pace you set since childhood. You completed your iknimaya a cycle later than your siblings, despite your eagerness to prove your self-worth as one of the Sully’s. Being a late bloomer and smaller than the average na’vi never put a damper on your optimistic attitude, though. It only added fuel to the fire.

The news to seek uturu with the Metkayina came as a shock not only to you but the rest of your siblings, and soon became the leading topic of discussions at family dinner. Jake explained that this is what was necessary, and that you would need to ‘pull your weight’ and ‘make a real effort’. You knew he didn’t mean it as harsh as it sounded, but the words stung nonetheless, plucking out a couple heart strings when they pierced through your chest.

You’ll never forget the day of your arrival here.

War horns blew loudly, signalling your arrival to the village of Awa’atlu. All the members of the clan swarmed the shore to see what the fuss was all about. Even the little ones that could only toddle wriggled their way out of their parents’ arms to get a glimpse. It was overwhelming – to say the least – to have all these eyes on you, scanning every foreign feature of your body, walking around you to inspect you further. You’d never felt more objectified in your life.

When Tonowari and Ronal made their grand entrance on their skimwings, your heart thud furiously in your chest. Sure, the large, winged fish took you by surprise, but the man to Tonowari’s right shook you to your core. His head tilted in wariness, hunting knife secured cautiously in his right hand and the leather wrapped reign gripped tightly in his left.

Wet, long hair plastered to his chest; he eyed you down momentarily before averting his gaze to the rest of your family that calmed their ikrans. His eyes widened ever so slightly at the winged creatures, large with armoured skin, much like the beast he’s bonded with.

You couldn’t help but stare aghast at his sinewy, chiselled features – sculpted by Eywa herself. It didn’t take long for you to understand why he was Tonowari’s right-hand man. His expression of indifference remained fixed on his face. Embodying that of an akula, his presence brought an intimidation like no other.

But what you couldn’t understand were the butterflies that plagued your stomach.

Your gaze lingered for a moment too long, the akula himself now returning the leer. It sent shivers down your spine, turning your butterflies into knots. You looked away, gaze falling onto your toes that burrowed their way into the sand. You felt his eyes bore into you, taking in each dark blue stripe on your tiny body, your slender extremities and thin tail.

You peeked at him through the corner of your eye, to see his gaze locked on your tail as it swished side to side. You saw his ears perk up, and the minor curl of his lips, a sight only a person staring as intently as you would see. You watched as his expression morphed into one of confusion, just before he dropped his head all together. 

You would later come to find out that he couldn’t quite understand his own butterflies in his stomach.

The giant stayed seated on his winged beast, as Tonowari and Ronal dismounted theirs and crossed the shore in only a few strides. Initially, they were wary of your arrival, thinking your family would bring war to their village. After your father reassured them, they were gracious enough to grant uturu for your family, and even dispatched their own children to teach you the ways of the people.

Naturally, you had a hard time adjusting to the new biome, water was never really your thing to begin with. You were slow in the water, slender body only holding you back more. The olo’eyktan’s son, Ao’nung, quickly grew agitated with you, handing you off to his sister, Tsireya, who was already overwhelmed with teaching your siblings. You felt like a burden, holding everyone back during lessons. There was absolutely nothing that you were getting the hang of, not even the ‘finger talk’ as you brother calls it.

For the first in your life, you felt completely defeated.

The sweet, determined girl disappeared, leaving nothing but her shell behind. You started missing lessons, making up reasons to stay back in your family marui pod. You often found yourself alone sitting on the shore in the height of the eclipse, dipping your feet into the warm water. Jake would always find his babygirl, demanding to know what was wrong. But you could never reveal the truth, not after what he said to you before your departure. Especially not now, not after failing so terribly for two entire months.

At this point, your siblings had passed their iknimaya, and you were the only one left.

----

Tsireya presses two fingertips right above your navel, resting her other hand on your chest, fixing your posture. “Breathe from down here. You must slow down your heartbeat, y/n.”

You’ve heard this a million times by now. You know this, but it didn’t matter. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t get it. Frustrated, you exhale harshly, gritting your teeth so you won’t speak the words flooding your mind.

“Look. I know you’re frustrated, but you are getting so much better. If we just keep –”

“No! I’m fucking tired of this. I’ll never get it. Alright?!” you shout, shuffling to your feet to.

You scan the circle of surprised na’vi, all of which are staring up at you in disbelief. You could see Tsireya’s face screw with hurt, which only makes your heart ache more. An apology brews in your chest, when all five pairs of eyes flicker to something behind you. Turning on your heels, you see what everyone is looking at.

Jake, Tonowari, and his right-hand man all standing in front of you, presumably listening to your every word. You stand there for a bit, eyes bouncing between Tonowari and Jake before landing on the giant. He stands tall, staring off into the distance with that same deadpan look on his face. His hair is tucked behind his ears, revealing the stud in his lobe, the freckles on his jaw – the deeper blue markings on his neck.

This is the first time you’re getting a good look at him, seeing the first time you two met things were... eventful.

His freckles are conspicuous, even in broad daylight, beautifully patterned and abundant throughout his body. Perhaps it’s his lighter-cyan coloured skin and swirls for stripes, but his freckles twinkled just right from the reflection of the water. They even seemed to trace his stripe pattern on his forehead and brow bones. A single tahni under each eye... his ocean, impassive eyes.

A sleeve of tattoos covers his right arm, a sleeve on his right knee to his ankle, and a tattoo of stripes below his navel that went underneath his – oh. Your brows lift slightly, tensed facial muscles relaxing.

That’s an interesting place for a tattoo.

This tattoo continued between his prominent v-lines, under the band of his loincloth. You begin counting the stripes.

One, two, three, four, five... six.

It takes the sound of Jake clearing his throat for you to reluctantly peel your eyes away from this poor man’s crotch.

“Right, babygirl. Ralak here is going to be your teacher from now on.” Jake motions his hand over to the Metkayina, who’s now visibly, and unsuccessfully, trying to appear friendlier.

You couldn’t help but scoff, frustration now bubbling over in your chest once more. “So what? I’m so shit at this that I need a ‘special’ teacher?” you glance over at Ralak and roll your eyes.

“Language!” Jake whispers harshly, giving you that look. The look he gives you when you’re embarrassing him. 

“No. I’m tired of this. I want to go home.” you shrug, storming past him just for him to wrap his hand around your upper arm and drag you back.

“That’s enough.” Jake growls, bending over to meet you at eye level. “Tonowari has been kind enough to arrange for Ralak to help you. He was once a fisherman.”

“The best. At about your age.” Tonowari stands proudly as he utters the words, “And now he’s one of the best warriors. I hand selected him myself.”

Your eyes flicker over to Ralak, whose ears lay flat against his skull, brows slightly pinched, jaw clenched. It’s hard to tell what he was feeling, his mask of indifference fixed tightly on his face. Was he grimacing? Or maybe he was trying not to.

Regardless, it looked as if the words upset him. Maybe there was something more beneath this cold exterior. Something that maybe you can pry out of him. Something that intrigued you. The corners of your lips curl upwards, an expression that any outsider would perceive as happiness, but Jake knew you had something else in mind.

Something more mischievous.

“I apologize, sir. I am... just frustrated.” your eyes shift from one giant to the next as you bow before the olo’eyktan. “It would be an honour to have Ralak be my...” you glance over at him, “...karyu [teacher].”

Jake remains silent, pursing his lips as he watches the scene unfold.

“Ah. I understand.” Tonowari smirks, shrugging his shoulder. “It is decided, Ralak will teach you.” he looks at Ralak, giving the order, “Today.”

Jake raises his brows at you, as if he were telling you to behave and not cause any trouble. You tilt your head and subtly stick out just the tip of your tongue. Tonowari walks away, a large hand brushing against Jake’s back to signal him to follow. Jake turns around and joins the larger na’vi, two olo’eyktans now making their way back to the tall mangroves.

“Hey, karyu.” you sing, eyes fluttering as you stare up at the towering man.

He looks down at you for a moment, eyes flickering between your eyes and lips. His ears twitch as he swiftly turns around, walking away from you. “Come.”

So that’s what his voice sounds like.

It’s gruff, yet smoky. Deep and husky, thick with... nothing but his Metkayina accent. It was flat and monotone, revealing nothing of his true character. You follow closely behind him, already excited about how you plan to get him to reveal more about himself. He seems to be a man of few words, reserved and... composed. You couldn’t deny that there is a part of you that wants to poke at him, to see how far you can take things with him.

Before you know it, you’re standing in a secluded clearing on the shore, nestled far away where the fishermen tend to hunt. You look around, scanning your surroundings with curious eyes. You see a secluded marui pod, seemingly larger than all the others you’ve seen thus far. It's tightly woven with orange and red sturdy material, secured tightly to the thick mangrove roots around it.

“That yours?” you stick him with your first poke of the day, eager eyes trying to look inside the marui.

His gaze remains fixed on the fishnet that he’s gathering in his hands. “Yes.”

“Pretty big for...” you mumble, shifting your gaze towards him to be met with the sight of him unbuckling his cumberbund. “...just one person.” your voice dwindles in volume, fading out into a breathy whisper.

If your eyes could protrude from your head anymore, they would. You always had a hard time masking how you feel as your facial expressions were quick to give it away. His cumberbund falls into the wet sand, embellished razor sharp akula teeth piercing its surface. Your eyes trail up his body, settling on his bare chest.

“Today, fishing net. Tomorrow, ilu.” he mutters, putting his hair into a loose bun as he ventures further into the water.

“O-kay.” the word comes out broken and awkward.

Venturing out into the water, he settles in the spot he used to go frequently as a fisherman. Waist deep into the water, he looks behind him, chin meeting his chest to land his gaze on you, chest-deep in the water. He realizes that he's gone too far out for you, and walks towards you.

Your beaded top plasters to your chest, revealing your peaked nipples as your breasts bounce with the tide. His eyes quickly avert to the shore, eyelids fluttering a little faster than they should.

“Come.” he walks past you, prompting you to follow him once more. You bounce your way back to the shore until the water is crashing into your stomach. “Watch.” he says, fixing his stance to show you a demonstration.

You watch intently, focus being on the wrong thing, honestly. Your eyes had a hard time looking away from his chiselled body – from each dip and ridge of his muscles on full display. How could you focus? Especially now that he’s barely thigh deep into the water, loincloth clung to his bulge. You swallowed thickly at the sight, was that huge thing really his –

“Erm. Got it?” the sound of him clearing his throat snaps you out of your deep thought.

“Mhm!” you nod quickly, doe eyed and genial smiled.

He nods once, handing you the netting. You take it slowly, buying yourself sometime to figure out how to throw this thing. Standing with your left foot in front of your right, you bend your elbows out, holding the yoke of the net close to your chest.

He grunts in disapproval, settling behind you to fix your stance. He gently kicks your feet apart, putting your dominant foot in front. Large hands grip your tiny waist, shifting your stance slightly to the left. They slip up your sides, and run along the length of your upper arms, stopping at your elbows to tuck them in. He’s so focused on correcting your poor posture that he doesn’t even realize how he’s pressing himself against you.

“Like this.” he huffs, hand enveloping yours to shift it further from the yoke of the cast net. “Hold here.” his other hand grabs the lead line and plunks it into yours.

Heart pounding at a dangerous speed, you take a few deep breaths. Perhaps it was the nerves of casting your first net, or maybe it was just how this gentle giant is pressed against you. Either way, you can’t ignore the butterflies that flutter in your stomach again.

“Now throw.” he says barely over a whisper, backing away from you.

You twist your upper body, core tensing when you throw the net as hard as you can, only for it to clump together rather than spread out. Your shoulders drop and lips press tight, a wave of disappointment washing over you.

“Again.” he orders, pulling the net towards him.

--

Ralak had you throw the net half a dozen more times before giving you your first break. You prodded and poked at him, trying your best pry personal information out of him – to no avail. He remained unaffected by your persistent jabs, revealing nothing other than how he pined for the days of being a fisherman.

“Karyu. I-I’ll never get it.” you huff in frustration, gathering the fishnet from the surface of the water for a tenth time.

“Again.” he says patiently, unbothered by your frustration.

“Karyu. Please. It is not working. Can’t we try something else?” you beg, arms and back sore from throwing the fishnet so many times.

He looks at you for a moment, taking in the slouch of your back – the strain on your face. He felt bad for you, but he could also see that you were so close to learning the skill.

“No. Again.” he orders monotonously, taking note of your gaze drifting off to the mangroves nearby. “Focus. Eyes on me.”

“How am I supposed to focus when you look so, so –” you cut yourself short with a sigh.

“So, what?” he tilts his head and raises a brow.

You shake your head and roll your eyes, landing them right on that damn tattoo again.

Why was it so low? Didn’t that hurt? Why there of all places?

“Look. I see you –”

The words make your eyes snap up to his, heart thumping wildly in your chest.

“...staring.”

You didn’t realise you were lingering until he pointed it out. How could you not? Surely, he chose that spot for a reason. Perhaps his mate wanted it there, so she could trace the lines with her tongue, all the way down to his –

Am I... jealous right now? I don’t even know this man.

“Who did that tattoo?” you question harshly, green flame of envy igniting in your chest.

“This one?” he chuckles softly, tugging at the hem of his loincloth.

You drop your head, gaze locked on your hands fiddling with the net, hoping to hide the blood that’s rushing to your cheeks. “Yeah. That one.”

“Again. And I tell you.” he pulls the hem back up before crossing his arms over his chest.

Your gaze snaps back up to him, eyes wide with excitement. This is the first time he’d be revealing anything personal about himself. A smile splits your lips as you fix the net in your hands once more, burrowing your feet into the sand. Your eyes narrow on the target – a school of fish off in the near distance.

Twisting your torso, you cast the fishnet, watching it splay out perfectly and trap majority of the fish. You stare in awe, surprised that it even splayed out much less caught some fish. Once it registers, you jump up in glee, quickly turning to your teacher to see his pleased expression and slight nod.

“I did.” he utters, a smirk barely pulling at his lips.

Adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you’re perplexed by his two words. “Huh?” you huff, brows pinching together in confusion.

“I did the tattoo.” he says, holding eye contact with you.

“Oh.” your lips pucker at the words, furrowed brows now raising in understanding. Being so surprised by yourself – finally getting something right – you forgot about your little deal.

He breaks eye contact to look over at your perfectly casted fishnet. “If you ride an ilu, maybe I show you the rest of it.” he says through his thick accent, making his way towards the fishnet. “Since you are so... interested.”

“I-I’m not – it, it is just in a – an interesting spot.” you stutter, eyes locked onto your twiddling thumbs.

“Ah.” he gathers the fishnet in his large hands, bundling it together to call it a day. “If you say so... vultsyìp [stick; tree branch]”

“What did you just call me?” your leer snaps up, eyelids squinting at his tensed back muscles that flex and relax as he gathers the net.

A smile pulls at his lips, although you can barely see it from the angle in which he’s facing. It’s contagious, causing your own lips to curl, and soon enough you’re giggling into your hand.

----

Ralak became the light in the darkness, pulling you out of your shell and filling you with the purpose that you once lost. Things came quick to you, thanks to him. He was a great teacher, always patient with you, never showing his agitation – or any other emotion for that matter.

You learned how to hold your breath properly in only a week, due to his persistence and confidence in you. He’d always be quick to praise you after you accomplished something, whether that be with a quick clap, a gentle tap on the back, or – in bigger accomplishments – a hug.

The bond between the two of you strengthened. Overnight. You put a crack in his walls, and bits of his true self began to shine through them. And that was your biggest accomplishment yet. To see a person with the strength of five men turn into a little water puppy in front of you, and you only.

There would be moments where his façade of indifference would drop completely. The moments where he would chuckle a little too loudly, a little too long. Where that shy smile grew wide enough to flash his lengthy canines, and a primal part of you that you tried to supress, desired to know what they felt like sunk into your neck. Clamping down on you while you writhe underneath him, being tamed by his touch.

The moments where you’d tease one another about your differences. His stature in comparison to yours. Pressing your hands together, only for yours to be lost in his palm. And when you pulled away, your fingers intertwined ever so slightly, prickling the skin all over your body. He loved to tease you. Honestly a little too much, poking at your chest with a figurative finger about how you favoured that of a vultsyìp. It’s what got you riled up the most and soon it became your nickname.

Until the day you successfully rode your first ilu.

It was an exhilarating experience, nothing like what you had experienced prior. You glided through the water effortlessly, flowing with the movements of the blubbery creature. When you broke the waters’ surface, Ralak stood proudly in the shallow end, arms crossed over his chest with a smile on his face. It was a rare occurrence – that smile.

And when you laid your eyes on such a sight, the butterflies flew back into your stomach, fluttering and flapping harder than they ever have. They soon became plenty in number, filling your stomach to the brim until you can no longer suppress the way you feel. The flutter in your stomach radiated throughout your body, sending your legs fluttering too. You swam quickly to him, surprising yourself with your speed.

--

“You did it. Like I said.” he smiles smugly.

“Hope you didn’t forget about our deal.” you grin, wringing out the water from your hair.

“You would not let me.” he scoffs, shaking his head as he uncrosses his arms. “Ready?” he asks, cocking a brow while his fingers glide down his stomach, finding purchase under the under the band of his loincloth.

“From the moment I saw it, karyu.” you say, voice feigned with confidence.

He could see through your disguise, though. It only makes him chuckle, to see such a little thing act so big – so dauntless. He tugs his loincloth down, taut strings now sinking into his upper thighs, revealing not only the entirety of his tattoo but also the base of his length.

“H-how did you manage to do that all on your own? Didn’t it hurt?” you ask sheepishly, voice laced with concern.

“Bottle of fermented fruit and a rag to bite. No pain.” he answers, Metkayina accent thick.

You examine it a little closer, leaning in to have a better look. It’s raised, very slightly – invisible to anyone not staring as intently as you are. Most definitely because it’s hand poked, by himself of all people. An innocent thought floods your mind, so loud that you couldn’t stop the movement of your own hand.

How does it feel?

“Can I –” you glance up at him briefly, hand hovering over the tattoo, “Can I touch it?”

His brows and ears shudder for just a few seconds. He quickly regains his composure, swallowing silently before giving you a single nod. Fingertips experimentally graze over the tattoo, taking in its bumpy texture. Your digits trace each line of his tattoo, down to his pelvis. A sudden jerk of his hips causes you to yank your hand back.

“S-sorry, Ralak.” you mumble, feeling a little ashamed that you may have made him uncomfortable.

But in all honesty, your innocent, little touches were arousing him and he didn’t want you to know. 

“Nothing to be sorry about.” he states, fixing his loincloth.

You straighten your spine, a foot stepping back to create space that you think he wants, only for him to pull you in for a hug.

“You did well today, vultsyìp.” he mumbles, hands resting on your head and back. “Tsurak [skimwing] next and you will be Metkayina.”

“Hmm. I’ll think about it.” you giggle, warm embrace and snarky commentary ebbing away whatever feelings of doubt tensing your chest.

It’s the way his huge arms engulf you that make you feel so protected and accepted. It’s something you always looked forward to after a big achievement. You lean into him, laying your head on his chest. The smell of sea salt mixed with leather hide wafts up your nose. You take a deep breath, holding it in your lungs until you feel light in the head. Releasing your breath with a loud huff, you smile widely.

It’s so enticing, so addictive.

“You always do that.” he chuckles breathily, swiping back a few strands of hair stuck to your temple.

“’ts not my fault you sea people smell so good.” you mumble into his chest, taking in another deep breath.

“Ah.” he exhales, hand cupping the back of your head. “My hì’i vultsyìp [little stick]” he almost grimaces at his words, it just wasn’t fitting anymore. Not for situations like these. Not when his chest feels so tight.

You lift your head and stare up at him with eyes of innocence. He looks down at you, ocean blue eyes searching yours. You’d never even noticed the little yellow ring around his pupils until now, how they shimmer when the light catches them just right. There’s an unspoken tension, thick in the air – so thick it makes you swallow the spit pooling in your cheeks. Your smile fades, lips parting as your breaths turn hot.

Eyes growing heavy, they almost close in anticipation that he might – just might – kiss you.

“Tanhì.” he mutters, eyes minutely shifting between each freckle on your forehead. He’s counts them, admiring how they embellish your supple, dark blue skin.

Your smile returns like it never left, except it’s wider – brighter. The last ray of sun shines through the sliver of a gap between your silhouettes, averting your attention to the oncoming eclipse.

“Thank you, karyu.” you whisper, reluctantly pulling away from his arms to make the trek back home.

“Tomorrow...” he watches your small figure shrink as you walk away. “...my tanhì.”

--

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if you were tagged and don't want to be just lmk :)

[wilwheaton]

I've been playing Baldur's Gate 3 on my PS5, which isn't the most portable thing in the world. I anticipate a lot of travel next year, so I bought it on Steam and got it running on my Steamdeck, so I can take it with me. Steam works so well with Linux, but I was having a hell of a time getting it to work with Proton, until a few days ago.

My character on PS5 was carefully built from the ground up. I think I spent 2 hours designing her and writing her story in my head. That was great, and not something I needed to do again, so I told it to just randomize everything. That would push me out of my comfort zone, and I'd get to experience a different story and experience than I do already.

The game generated a Tiefling Sorcerer for me, with a background in history and lore. Awesome. That's pretty different from my vengeance paladin with an outsider background.

Real quick: since I first posted about playing BG3, the number one FAQ is "do you roll as badly in this game as you do in real life?"

The answer to that is "I've had a shocking number of single digit rolls, but I turned on Karmic Dice because holy shit I have suffered ENOUGH, and I will take the option."

But with this new character (who I am calling Tav), I went ahead and turned it off, just to see.

Okay. I wake up. I see the parasite pool, and among my options is [INVESTIGATION] with a +1 bonus. That totally fits my character's story. She wants to get out of this place, but she is so compelled to understand things, to acquire knowledge and understanding, she goes straight to where the Mindflayer pulled out the tadpole, and rolls Investigation with +1. Let's find out WTF is going on! Let's do some HISTORY INVESTIGATION IN THIS MOTHER!

I rolled a 2.

So for everyone who has been asking, based on this admittedly small sample size, yes. Yes, the dice hate me, even when they are digital.

[shoebillstork]

Mutual 1: (An extremely extensive post detailing their trauma on their secret blog)

Mutual 1: (A picture of the soup they finished making) Eeatting penis soup grab a bowl

Mutual 2: (Cropped batman yaoi) This scene was so compelling in the comics qnd established so much for Bruce Waynes character as a bottom

Mutual 3: Just updated my comic (it is one of the most compelling pieces of narrative youve ever read. Its based off of a bad game)

Mutual 4: Ngl this omegaverse gacha life youtube video is more compelling than most shows i watch

Mutual 5: Finally cocking out i swear if one more thing happens today i will snap

Mutual 6: PENIS TYPO

Mutual 7: PENIS TYPO

Mutual 8: PENIS TYPO

Mutual 9: This yak tranquilizer weak af

Mutual 10: Come make my sinister potion (posts how to make a pipebomb)

Mutual 11: Do i get plastic surgery and change my name and move to a different country y/n (poll is in favor of yes by a huge margin)

Mutual 12: Mutual 13 is a lying fucking piece of trash and i think they should drop dead. They live at 308 Negra Aroya Lane, Albuquerque, New Mexico, 87104 and im going to record me beating the shit out of them

Mutual 13: Aww my bestie is coming to visit me soon :]

(Mutual 12 and 13 are dating)

Mutual 14: who tf does she think she is (posts a sc of mutual 8 from three url changes ago. It is mutual 8 saying theyre going to the park)

Mutual 15: So in my latest session in dnd we rolled 1d12 for dick size and i rolled a nat 20 and idk what to do with this reponsibility now

Mutual 16: he looks so good im going to scream (a screenshot where said character is so far in the background he doesnt even have a face)

Mutual 17: eho up thinking about the moral dillemma presented in pokemon go

Mutual 18: take a look at my ocs :D (mona lisa if dhe was gay)

Mutual 19: i hadba really good day today i got to spend some time bonding with my entire family and we got to celebrate something we havent had the time for in 37 years

Mutual 20: (reblogging mutual 19) L + Don't care + 632146K~P PRC, dl.2146K~P, 5K > 2146K~P, 5K > JF 2146K~P, 2H, WS ([4]6H->P), 623H

Mutual 21: (Blurry photo of them running from police) they're after me for my stash kf yaoi cocaine

Mutual 22: (Miles long RP chain they started 2 months ago. You have post notification on for them because its awesome)

Mutual 23: Discussing the morality of liking bananas over mangoes

Mutuals 24 ans 25: having a dramatic wedding where theyre acting as a crack ship. They're on the verge of divorce

Mutual 26: She winding onbmy waker (is in the middle of intense controversy)

Mutual 27: (Callout for mutual 26)

Mutual 28: If Mutual 17 asked i would give them a sloppy toppy

Mutual 29: Anon get out of my inbox before j block you his ass is NOT flat. (His ass is fucking concave)

Mutual 30: Shes just like me fr (a picture kf a shopping cart)

[bunnyreaper]

kinktober 4 - monster fucking

demon!ghost x reader

(18+/mdni, mentions of rough sex/soul sacrifice/dom sub dynamic/size difference)

you hadn't meant to summon him, you hadn't meant to summon anything, really. had you drawn a summoning circle, lit some candles, and chanted some latin? yes, but you hadn't thought it would actually work.

it was just meant to be a meditative practice, a little silliness after the dreams that have plagued you as of late.

something to convince yourself that none of it was real--until he appeared, red skin, black eyes, pointy horns and a look of disgust painted on his face.

thick smoke curls around the room as your otherworldly visitor puffs in out of thin air.

"what d'ya want, human?" the demon's voice is low, his accent thick and his scorn obvious. he lounges against the wall, taller and broader than any human and exactly the kind of infernal sin you dreamed of so often. he looks like he'd rather be anywhere else, but for whatever reason, he still answered your midnight call.

you never saw the dream figures face, but this demon's has you captivated--a strong jaw and plush lips. you can't look anywhere but at him, lost in the inky well of his eyes as he peers down at where you kneel on the hardwood floor. you're not sure what to say, hadn't thought you'd get this far at all, and certainly didn't think anything that came would be quite so darkly enchanting.

"don't have all day, love." he snarls as he urges you along, and then he's moving toward you, a harsh grip at your chin as he forces you to rise to your feet and look him dead in the eye.

under his gaze, you feel compelled to tell the truth--out of fear or out of reverence you're not sure, but the words tumble from you anyway.

"i have these dreams..." you start, hesitation washing over you as your eyes slip shut and you recall your nighttime visitor. you feel the demons simmering stare regardless, and you distantly think he knows, but is just making you say it anyway, just wants to hear the confession straight from your mouth, just wants to taunt you into confessing.

maybe it's part of his game, perhaps he's been putting himself in your dreams on purpose, luring you into his trap. the thought makes your stomach churn as you think of how easily you'd fallen for it.

his eyes narrow dangerously. "dreams?" he mocks, his hold on your flesh unwavering, you're practically pulled to your tiptoes--his grip so strong and demanding as he refuses to relinquish you. any more force and he could be holding you off the ground by your neck alone.

shame washes over you in wave after wave, as you become aroused even thinking about the dreams you've been having for so long now. the dreams that have almost become more important than the waking world.

"a demon comes to me in the night and he..." you swallow, uncertain of what word to land on. saying the demon fucks you is too mild to describe the way he acts. he takes you, ravages you, corrupts you. he gives you every kind of sinful pleasure you could dream of and always comes back for more.

"go on." the demon is deadpan, still knowing exactly what you're thinking and yet waiting for the words to spill from your pretty lips, wants to hear you say it.

"... he uses me." you tremble, not from fear, but from arousal, as your eyes meet the demons and you expose the need in your eyes, in your soul. he uses you night after night and you don't have a single protest, beyond the fact it's never seemed possible, until now.

the demon scoffs--a harsh, mocking sound that thrills you against your will. "and you want me to make your sick little dreams come true?"

"yes." you say without hesitation, without a single second passing. you're beyond certain.

"it'll cost ya." one of his hands snakes down your body, feeling your curves before he shreds through your little nightdress with his claws. fangs worry at your neck, as the demon gets a taste for you on his tongue, savours your fear and anticipation. "such a nice fucking body, tasty soul too."

despite knowing what he deals in, that takes you by surprise. "my soul for a fuck?" you ask, a little in disbelief.

the demon picks you up with ease and throws you onto the bed, watching hungrily as you bounce and settle into the mattress. he rids himself of his own clothes with the click of a finger, and stalks over to you like a predator, crawling over your vulnerable body.

his thick, ridged cock hangs heavy between his thighs, drawing the attention of your widened eyes. again, he's bigger than any human, and hard just at the thought of devouring you.

"give yourself to me, all of you. for my fuck, until you can't take anymore. days, weeks, months." he flashes a smirk--sharp, pointed teeth on show. "years... forever. what d'ya say, love?"

[bloominglegumes]

judging earthspark s3

contains spoilers!!!

(my own opinion + not that serious :))

not in order bc i sketch-wrote these down while watching first but guys im so im so .head in hands

-15 pts for the character development, relationships, ideas, etc set up in s1 that were thrown out in s2 and s3. war trauma, immigrant experience, ghost aftermath, individuality, healing process, autobot guilt, byebye. so much character assassination still happening

+1 for following through i guess

+1 shockwave 'all are dead' comic cover reference and having him react to it

+5 every appearance of frenzy and laserbeak. theyre professional hecklers i love them

-1 bc of how the art direction was already established having 2d handdrawn effects but obv their animation has been toned down, there are quite a few instances of 3d smoke made to look like 2d shading which is not necessarily bad on its own but doesnt feel like it fits here

+1 rage virus had nice potential for bringing simmering resentments to surface,, wish the show delved deeper into the characters thoughts + fallout

-1 megatron's va sounds like he was given direction to hold back somehow on his delivery ?? idk it just feels like forced gentleness compared to earlier performance like his lines don't fit him

-2 animation lacking feeling of weight, movements are stiff, unnatural esp for huge guys made of metal. how in the world did twitch push megatron over

-2 fight choreo is more generic and plain,, characters tend to fight in similar ways when they wouldnt, considering different sizes, abilities, personalities etc,, everyone is just tossing each other around

-2 teasing us with breakbee and then actually setting it on fire and then killing bumblebee's personality too and while we're here thrash and mo as well

+1 escape room ep overall was kinda fun. i like the idea of leaning into twitchs big sister role but like u dont have to water down the others when highlighting one character?? the maltos are kids, but theyre not like.stupid

+1 optimus pushing megatron down to protect him and megs glancing down where optimus' hand is on him. someone in story room is pushing megop

+1 prowl being a skilled Hater on entrance

+1 "organics" (derogatory)

-1 optimus tells prowl that the war is over in defence of megatron but literally theyre fighting decepticons again two seconds later so make up your mind earthspark

-5 what are the autobots and decepticons even fighting for at this point? let's shoot them into space so we don't have to worry about that conflict anymore except megatron but he's our friend so don't think about that trust us this is earthspark our show was formed on the basis of being the aftermath of the war hasbro im going to kill you

+1 constructicon mention

+3 prowl being huggable and pickuppable (+1 optimus, +1 elita, +1 arcee)

+1 "terran thrash" "terran nightshade" "stygi-terran" "clan malto" can't tell me thats not objectively cute

+5 blaster feature

+2 megop being deeply embarrassing about robby's weird girlfriend

+5 dramatic megop fight. intense music, personal arguments, falling through the ice sinking to the bottom of the lake together, if i'm going down you're coming with me etc i love it

-1 grimmy not having a single speaking line?? am i tripping

+1 thrash throwing the hat perfectly onto prowls antler tip

-2 duller lighting and colours overall </3 my guy was seriously looking grey in ep 6..,.

+1 "romantic entanglements have hobbled many a soldier. ask optimus." thank u es writers

+1 "there are no implications. there are only facts." banger

+1 multiple pronouns used for the shapeshifting quintesson i just thought it was fun

-1 thrash's character being largely reduced to That One Kid

-1 might just be me but the whole plot with the fake girlfriend was just weird as hell ?? what purpose does it have in robby's character development,,,

-1 dot and alex being less compelling as caring responsible parents. like they're still nice,, but the way they've been written just feels less careful

-1 that movie and confession scene sorry i know it was on purpose but i could not handle the secondhand embarrassment

+1 mole-bots tbh i thought they were going to pull scraplets but they were fun

-4 starscream neglect. where is the justice. nothing but a silhouette all season and then finally all he does is go crazy and get pulled back to jail??wtf

+1 quintesson ship entrance

-1 generic character body language/performance

+1 weird al yankovic going so hard

+1 saving civilians

-2 quintus powers being suddenly able to save the day when they need it because plot

-2 how the chaos terrans are not written

-1 environments are sometimes not that fitting for the action taking place there?? like for the final fight i know theyd need a lot of space for the titan but seriously just a green grassy field and blue sky come on?? give us some artistry,..,.

-1 slightly weird voice effects for quintesson characters but that might just be me

+1 sharkticon pit plucked right out of g1 movie i love it

+1 mo being so polite "mr optimus" "ms elita" "mr prowl sir" sweetheart

+5 what the fuck do you mean "i appreciate you, megatron"

+1 hard confirmation prowl is a hugger

+1 epic titan fusion

+1 prowl being nice. dialogue with bee in that scene felt kind of in your face but it was cute

-1 arresting starscream. girlie was probably starving in there

+1 "little bird"

+1 i'm just happy to have an animated prowl having so much relevance to the main story again.tfa prowl i miss u every day

-2 tarantulas never being seen nor heard from ever again. he had an awesome design, fantastic voice acting, super well written just for hasbro to be cowards

-1 again for just dropping pretty big story points from season 1 for unclear reasons. like i said,, current state of earthspark works fine as a kid's show alone but after how mature and well-handled season 1 was it feels like watching the tv spinoff series to the actual thing. sorry but like zero integrity to the shows basis and values and what the original writing had set up for the world and the characters

[syoddeye]

siphon, part three

john price x f!reader part one | two | three | four ~2.6k words cw: kidnapping, implied stalking, dubcon/noncon, intercrural sex

Another week passes.

John told the truth. You sleep in a bed. His bed, as predicted. You join him for three square meals a day. Make eye contact, respond when he talks to you, listen when he talks at you, and pretend not to scrutinize every square inch of the cabin when he's not looking. 

The morning after your punishment, he presents you with clothing. It's the wine all over again. Everything fits and is unnervingly similar to your usual wardrobe, albeit a quarter of the size. He returns your jeans, washed, but keeps your bra, t-shirt, and underwear you wore while confined. You glimpse familiar cotton in one of his drawers. Sicko.

He tries to instill domesticity, but his fantasy and your reality do not meld. He orders you to scrub the kitchen from top to bottom, then casually retrieves a handgun from the locked utility closet and cleans it at the table like he's reading the paper. Makes you help with cooking. Gathers you into his thick arms for a dance when he likes the song on the radio, moving you like a marionette. Forces you to cuddle during whatever movie he pops into the DVD player.

Through it all, he hasn't fucked you. He fucks with you. 

You've grown to expect his touch and don't fight as hard as you did the first time—as hard as you should, probably. But your body is regaining strength, and you can't risk another stint in the kennel, not with escape on the horizon.

So you're not surprised when John spreads you over the table after breakfast to eat you out or ignores the movie to finger you. You're angry. You're…sickly hopeful. Because while he brings you to the edge, he doesn't let you go. It always ends the same: you writhing on the closest solid surface, incoherent, and he simply pulls your underwear up and continues with his day.

It isn't for lack of trying. John slaps your hands when you try to reach your clit as he eats you out and hides the blankets when you read or watch movies. Cuffs your hands palms together at night and doesn't give you an inch of space in bed. At least you can use the bathroom with the door closed now, but there's a limit there, too. You silently time it; it's somewhere between a minute and a half to two before he bursts in.

He's waiting for you to ask. It's his whole thing. In a fucked up way, you edge each other. Different types of sexual frustration. Nevertheless, you traipse around in his shadow, transmogrifying into your own breed of pent-up monster. 

John breaks the pattern in the shower. The last three times, before he washes you, he pushes you to the knife's edge until the already tepid water runs cold. This time, though, there is no half-assed foreplay with a washcloth. You automatically brace your hands on the tile and wait for the inevitable...but a quiet grunt compels you to look over your shoulder.

The shower is small. Enough for you both to fit, but you must take turns under the water. So, while you cannot see him stroking himself at this angle, that is what he's doing. His face says it all. With the spray hitting his back, his eyes are half-hooded, mouth a firm line.

"Spread your legs a little."

This is new.

You carefully shuffle your feet apart. It's finally happening. He's going to fuck you. Here, in the most inconvenient of places, just as you're starting to freeze–

His cock slips between your thighs with a groan. He ghosts his hands down your sides, tapping each leg to slowly press back together, enveloping him, snug, flush to your pussy. "That's my good girl. Let me have this." As if you have a say.

He starts slow. Thrusts deliberate, pushing through your squeezed flesh until he's as close as he can possibly get. A hand migrates north, dragging up your belly to massage your breasts, tweaking and tugging your nipples into firm peaks. Pinching and grunting when the bit of pain makes you whine. 

It's maddening. With each glide of his cock, there's enough pressure for your body to respond. What seeps down is scorching compared to the few droplets that make it past the sheer wall of John's body. You cling to it as your body grows cold outside the water's reach, gooseflesh appearing along your limbs despite his thrusts' arduous yet smooth track. Your head lolls forward when his hand leaves your breasts and descends.

"You like this don't you?" John breathes as his fingers creep down, barely caressing where you're almost joined. He adjusts the angle, catching your pussy with purpose. One shift is all it would take. He means this, the roll of his hips, as empty but delicious threats. A conquest meant to fail at the gates. You hate that your body seeks it like a lock wants a key. You want to be opened, for him to just finally fuck you without making you ask. Because if he did, if he lost control, it would absolve you of the sick twinge of desire.

A finger pushes into the tight enclosure of your legs to find your clit. The skin drags a little. At the slightest brush, you whimper.

"Fuck," He groans, nose dragging along your scalp. "That sound…goes straight through me," He ruts between your legs, finger meanly circling your nub. Wet slaps echo off the shower wall. "I reckon I could listen to it all day."

Although your pleasure is clearly secondary, it follows his touch obediently when he rings your bell. As much as you try to bite them back, your soft gasps and whines snitch.

"You gonna come like this?" He asks, the honeyed tone a bad and blatant fake, "Just from my cock rubbing this sweet little cunt?" His hand departs your hip and darts into your wet hair, craning your neck. Two pits of cobalt, hints of an undertow that'll drag you out if you let them. He grits out, beseeching, "C'mon, sweetheart. Don't be so proud."

He rips his hand off and anchors it on your hip when you fail to ask, tsking when you wail and curse in frustration.

In the end, the water is markedly cooler by the time he comes. He releases your hair violently, shoving your head forward to watch his spend splatter on the tile, like rubbing a dog's face in it. His body pitches over your back, and he rocks a few moments more, muttering something into your hair. It's a minute before he pulls his softening cock from your thighs, shuts off the water, and lets out a luxuriating sigh. He pats your rump, crowding you into the corner as he steps out of the shower.

"Clean it up–ah, didn't say with a towel, love."

~~

He parades around for the rest of the day, humming that gratingly chipper tune. He scribbles notes on a legal pad, loosely chaperoning you as you make sandwiches. You avoid looking at the stack of tuna tins under the windowsill, standing sentinel.

It's been…two weeks? Either your employer thinks you walked away, or human resources reported you missing. You sincerely doubt the latter. There's probably a termination notice waiting in your inbox. You don't want to leave your chances to your landlord, either. You need to distract or incapacitate John.

Without thinking, you rummage through a drawer for a butter knife and only realize your mistake once he grabs your wrist.

You apologize embarrassingly fast, letting him press you into the counter's edge. "I'm sorry, just want a butter knife to cut mine in half."

John's mouth tightens beneath his beard, eyes flinty, deciding whether he believes it. The song on the radio transitions into the next. It's an opportunity to get on his good side. You take it.

As though approaching a skittish animal, you gingerly lift your free hand and take his shoulder. Trapped, you can't lean into him, but he understands after a second. He relents with a chuckle and sweeps you into a dance.

You build on the momentum and strategically initiate over a few days. You feed him forgeries of affection. While you read, you lay your head on his shoulder. Brush a hand over his back. Comment on the weather. It's a partial success. The blankets return to the sofa, and he lets you pick a movie. And even though he's on the other side of the glass masturbating, he allows you to shower alone.

You test the development.

In bed, you intentionally shift for the umpteenth time.

"Why're you squirming?" He asks, turning a page.

"Can I sleep without these, please?" You lift your cuffed hands. 

The silence stretches long enough that you think he's angry before he closes his book and sets it aside with a thump. A hand gently skims your side, then squeezes.

"On your back." 

A frisson of excitement shoots down from the base of your neck to your core. It shouldn't. You do as instructed.

John traces a path along your body to where your cuffed hands rest. He unfastens, then tosses them over his shoulder. He plants a hand on the other side of your body and hovers. It reads as an invitation rather than a demand. Another chance to take. All a part of the plan. You worked up to this. You tug him down.

He groans into the kiss and swiftly claims dominion over your mouth. You kiss back with equal measure, dead set on convincing him you want it, and he slots himself over you. Eventually, he pulls back to scrape his beard on your neck, leaving wet kisses and burns. His hand rucks up your shirt, and he grinds down, his erection pressing, dagger-like.

It's working. This is a win-win, better than a straight loss. This isn't giving in. It's a tactical surrender, a Faustian bargain.

"Think I don't know what you're doing? What you've been up to?" John rasps into the hollow of your throat, pinching a nipple. "Trying to butter me up."

Of course, the devil's a step ahead. "No, I–"

"Make it easier on yourself," He advises, heading south to suckle and roughly knead your chest.

Ask for it. All you have to do is ask.

No. You need to keep trying.

"Not yet?" John smirks, mouth pressing to skin. "We'll get there."

After a while, your pajamas pile on the ground, and his head latches between your thighs. You clutch the sheets as he alternates, gorging himself on both holes, the liquid heat of his tongue relentless in its explorations. His beard is wet when he comes up for air.

John laves his tongue around his fingers, gaze zeroed in on their destination. This is going to be the most awful one yet. You're sure of it.

Things will get worse before they get better, you remind yourself. 

When he toys with your cunt, he looks detached, clinical. He draws precise, tight circles over your clit, lazily scissoring two fingers to prep for something that won't happen unless you invite it in. 

Your eyes flutter shut at the push of a third.

"Twenty-two," He murmurs.

The stretch slurs your words. "W-What?"

"'S how many times you could've come by now."

Your mind's caught in quicksand, lagging in its comprehension. "You–You kept track?"

"I track everything, darling," John accelerates the pumping and rolling of his wrist. "Tracked you, your routine, everything about you," The words are insidious, spoken with tenderness, but there is nothing kind about the set of his jaw or the possessiveness in his eyes.

You tense and he misreads it. 

"You're a fucking psychopath."

"And you're grippin' my fingers like you never want them to stop."

John laughs on his way down, the sound resonating through your skin when he seals his lips around your clit and sucks. 

He brings the count to twenty-four before he relents. He reclines on his haunches, tugs his sweats down, and wraps a fist around his cock. Stroking leisurely, he briefly watches you grapple with your choices and lost orgasms. He licks his lips, eyes darting from your breasts, stomach, and holes. The head glistens.

He shudders when he catches you staring. The need plain on your face.

On your back in limbo. A soul delivered without resolution. Your lips part, but it's his breath that hitches.

"Yeah?"

He told you the number on purpose so you'd feel the ache of two dozen would-be little deaths at once. Dull your mind but whet your senses. The emphatic, plotting voice in your head grows quiet.

"John…"

John's hand slides to his base and closes in. He looks as wrecked as you feel, slicking himself in your folds. His cockhead nudges your clit, probes, and it's enough. Your ticket out.

"Please, fuck me?"

His expression hardens instantly, but he grits his teeth and pushes in a few inches before you can question it. Groaning, he bucks shallowly, working his way in deeper and basking in the clear discomfort written on your face. He's thick, unforgiving, and it's no wonder he stuffed three fingers into you. He knew you'd give in. How could you not? Fucking bastard.

His voice rumbles when he sheathes himself completely within your depths, and his grip tightens. "Ask and you shall receive, sweetheart."

With each thrust, he claims new territory and finds new space to fill — ripping up whatever peace was left to stake a claim. Shocks skitter up your spine when, with a deft roll of his hips, he hits a new angle that punches a moan out of you. Grinning, he rides it hard, dogged in his pursuit. 

"Thiiiis," He hisses, "Is the only place you're gonna come. On my cock or not at all."

You know he means it.  

He plays you like a fiddle in more ways than one, effortlessly hauling you, kicking and screaming (clawing, whimpering, begging) to the edge, and holding you over with a fist. He knows your pussy after torturing it for days on end. He tracks everything, after all.

"Please, I need it!"

He hinges and drops closer. An arm bends to support his weight, and the other cups the underside of your face, pushing your head back on the pillow.

"You can't imagine how good it feels to hear you beg like that, sweetheart," John kisses you with teeth, nipping. "But since you asked so prettily…" He slips his hand back between you.

Yes, yes, yes. You'll kill him if he stops. 

Warm, fat tears roll down your face, obscuring John's face as he finally, finally lets go of you. You clench with a wail, seizing tightly. It's molten, caustic even, and burns off every edge you have.

"Fuck, knew you'd–Christ–you'd feel like a dream," John grinds out. With your walls fluttering around him, it doesn't take long for him to follow. He sinks into the hilt, warmth blooming in the last place you feel alive. "I love you."

The pleasurable haze surrounding you is not enough to insulate you from the words. You flinch like he's slapped you.

"Not yet?" He drawls, echoing himself. "We'll get there."

John whispers your name and praises you. When he softens, he pulls out, only to 'clean you' with his mouth. It's ouroboros. 

"A man's got to take care of what's his." You know where that's going.

Now that he's fucked you, he can't get enough. He's hard when he crawls up and starts the cycle anew. 

[shinidamachu]

inukag was born to be shipped by me and I was born to ship inukag as well

For ages now I've been meaning to write about the reasons why I ship Inukag as fervently as I do and @inukag-week felt like the perfect opportunity to indulge myself, so here we go.

I want to start with how aesthetically pleasing they are. From their perfect size difference to the complimentary color scheme of their outfits plus contrasting hair and eye colors, Inuyasha and Kagome just look absolutely good together.

Their character design makes it clear from the get go that they're visually a great match. The association is so strong that the audience becomes unable to picture one without the other, as if they're two halves of the same item. Different, yet unequivocally a team, a pair.

Decades ago, they already had that classic quality to them and I bet they'd never get out of style even decades from now. And the rich lore that surrounds the pairing only adds to that aesthetic: the well, the tree, the beads, the robe, the sword, all of it enhances how iconic they are. Even something as ordinary as star gazing becomes uniquelly theirs.

Futhermore, I just absolutely love the entire concept of it. The subvertion of the fairy tale archetype, the idea of a love that transcends time, of soulmates who actually work on building their bond. Loving each other was both inevitable and a choice they made every single day.

Inuyasha and Kagome were just two teenagers from different worlds — literally and figurativelly — discovering together what love was. This made their relationship very compelling, because the excange between them is insanely substancial.

And their overall dynamic is so wholesome. There was a push and pull, a give and take, that made it fluid rather than static. Every single milestone felt organic and kept the audience thirsting for the next one.

Nothing felt forced or rushed. The slow burn was competently written to showcase their relationship being build on a very strong foundation, consistent in intimacy, mutual trust and acceptance — recurring themes for them and for the story — and so the stages of their bond had such a natural pace, it highlighted how genuine and healthy it was.

Consequently, there are so many aspects of their connection to explore. There's a never ending room for angst and for light hearted moments and you can adopt a more mature perspective or go for comical instead: they manage to be versatile without being generic and to embod the best clichés in fiction without becoming one themselves.

It's hard to think of a trope they couldn't pull off or an alternate universe that doesn't work for them. It gives the fandom plenty of freedom to be creative and to have the best time with it.

Plus, their chemistry was off charts. The romantic tension bleed through every single interaction. Their passion is so strong you could feel it even in scenes that had nothing to do with romance. And they didn't even need to kiss to achieve that level of synchrony.

They were also compatible. Inuyasha and Kagome balance each other quite nicely. Even in a relationship, they still keep their individualities and remain interesting both as characters and as a ship.

The very thing that dooms most pairings — opposite personalities — is precisely what keeps them together. Inuyasha and Kagome are completely different from each other, but they're actually extremely similar where it actually matters: their morals and goals.

And they longer they stay together, challenging one another, growing through trials and tribulations, inadvertently learning what each other's needs are and fulfilling them, easing each other's sorrows, covering each other's backs, saving each other's lives in every possible way, learning each other and learning with one another, the more their dichotomy turns into a duality, because they gain a more nuanced perspective of themselves, of each other and of the world.

It's a level of understanding, closeness and respect incredibly difficult to match. And for Inuyasha and Kagome, no one else even came close.

Another thing is that they're not just complementary to each other, but to the story itself. Their romance enhaces the overall plot. It has a structural placement in the wider narrative, strengthening its core themes and fulfilling the characters individual arcs, ultimately resulting in a more compelling journey.

So many romances are disposable to their own story, but Inukag was detrimental to theirs. Inuyasha and Kagome's interactions served as pivotal points of their respective arcs. Taking only the narrative into consideration, their relationship holds a lot of weight and greatly influenced everyone around it and it tied everything together.

That's why their happy ending felt so satisfying: it feels earned because everything went full cycle. All of that symbolism, all of those parallels paid off. Anything different from what we got would simply lack narrative and thematic cohesion.

And even if they didn't end up together, they could never be circumstancial. There was a real reason why they met, a reason why the fell in love and why they had ever lasting impacts on each other's lives regardless. It wasn't just love for love's sake.

This is what makes them, in my opinion, an epic ship.

BONUS: their soundtrack is lit and their quotes are simply legendary.

[mrsclean101]

Armin X camgirl! reader

Armin was sitting on his large bed lazily scrolling through twitter. when a website called Freaks R Us popped up on his feed. Armin accidentally clicked on the pink neon sign. I didn't do it on purpose he thought. He just wanted to get out of the strange pop up ad. Now that he was on the site he might as well look around right? On the website there really wasn't anything interesting with the streamers listed so he scrolled down he soon saw the Username $ultF0rY°u the username just stands out compared to the other ones not to mention the way the fat of her ass in the black lingerie looked bent over her computer desk. Her profile consisted of thirst traps, cosplays and the usual masturbation. Her profile had a glowing red outline to it meaning that she was currently live. He was completely compelled to go into her livestream. So he did

When Armin opened the steam was completely overstimulated first he gazed around the background of the room. He took in the interior design of her walls they were white a simple color but the countless anime posters in the background it brought the room together. The camera was set up so you have a complete view of her computer desk, sofa and decor in the background. He expected her to have a full blown masquerade ball mask on. But she didn't it was just a simple black disposable mask. Her h/l h/c was tied into a simple ponytail. She had on a revealing maid cosplay and was sitting on the top of the desk. he couldn't help but notice that her voice seemed very familiar. 

She had 3 dildos next to her. A pink short and fat one, a Long skinny one and a regular sized clear one. "Which one do you want me to use master?" She cooed to over 25,000 people. The comments went crazy and so was Armin he was hard as a rock. There were thousands of comments voting for the different choices ultimately the fat short one was the winner being about 5-6 inches long 5 inches wide. "Okay we have a winner". She sighs picking up the dildo putting it to her mouth lightly kissing at the tip. She then spits on it creating her own lubricant. Next she rubs her slender fingers over it delicately creating a up and down motion. She spreads her legs and she quickly massages over her already drenched folds spreading them open. "Look how wet I am for you" she moans quickly plunging her fingers into her tight hole her. Her eyes shot open as she kept moving her fingers to prep herself. "Okay I think I'm done no?" I don't wanna cum to early master I want you to enjoy it". She lets out flipping her self over the desk so she's on her stomach. 

FIRST PERSON POV.

I palmed my painfully hard cock through my shorts. Bitting my lip I pulled down my shorts to have my cock spring free hitting its self on my stomach. I quickly rummaged through the drawers next to me to find the nearest lotion bottle. Rubbing it in on my hands I began to fist my hard cock. "F-uck" i groaned pulling my cock roughly up and down at the sight on my laptop screen. She then takes the dildo from the desk and started fucking herself with it. "M-aster it feels really goo-ah~ f-fuck me faster". 

THIRD PERSON.

Armin was truly captured by the sounds of her cunt squelching with each one of the thrust of the dido. She soon picks up the pace of her motion so her and Armin are moving simultaneously. "I think I migh-ngnh~its t-oo mm-uch". Armin wasn't too fair behind letting out a series of grunts, moans and groans. "I-I'm goin-g to-Ahhh~" her sentence was cut off with the orgaism she tried so desperately to chase as she came a clear liquid squirted out of her. This really sent Armin over the edge and led him to his own release. The sticky white substance spilled all over his stomach. Armin doesn't know how it happened but her maid cosplay was pulled up revealing a tramp stamp on her lower back with a large Ángel written with two devil horns. Armin thought the tattoo was really hot. just thinking about it turned him on more. 

Slatyprecum donated 500 yen

BigDaddy555 donated 750 yen 

Zoro dontated 2,000 yen

Mr.horsecock donated 15,000 yen 

IAmAgirl101 donated 60,000 yen

Coloassadd!ck donated 255,000 yen

"Thank you for the donations!" She exclaimed clasping her hands together. She then came up close to the camera and whispered. " I hoped you enjoyed the show. Until next time my little devils". And the stream ended.

[headspace-hotel]

It's hard to get back to the mind set of writing...

I think an important ingredient or fuel for good writing is really just self-indulgence. Not necessarily pleasure, just something that drives you back to it again and again, an urge or an itch. Something compelling.

For me what is engrossing about stories is being able to explore and memorize a well-organized array of facts and quantities about the worldbuilding. I like to have lists of species and creatures, complex rules and lore of magic, and minutiae of all kinds. When I was a kid I would spend hours drawing imaginary creatures and filling out boxes of standard facts about them—size, diet, habitat, colors, social behaviors, and so on. I can't get enough of things that come in different colors and types and have discrete traits and qualities you can put into little boxes. Pure joy.

I like stories where the author clearly is not normal and can't think about anything except worldbuilding facts, so they had no choice except writing a whole story.

The other thing I like is writing about grungy, dysfunctional characters that are like a thing pulled out of a drain. I like writing about manly women especially if they're stupid, disgusting, and solve problems with violence, I like writing about egotistical pricks that are obsessed with themselves, I like writing absolutely deranged fanatics with god complexes, and I LOVE giving these awful characters an unbearable pure gold streak of integrity, compassion and spirit that absolutely fucking torments them. just drags them kicking and screaming into struggle and growth and reckoning.

[rottiens]

SCREAMS IF U DONT TELL ME MORE ABOUT DRACULA TOJI EXPERMENTING ON YOU-

😳😳

cw. vampire toji x afab reader, dracula au, noncon, experimentation, blood, mentions of pregnancy, breeding, predator/prey, size difference, yan toji, you are compelled by him. divider creds: cafekitsune.

Okay, I just think that Count Toji must be tired of living in his castle, bored of having spent centuries in this land where he only goes out hunting at night to survive and watch others live their lives under the hot and threatening sun.

Curiosity would lead him to set his eyes on the girl who occasionally walks around his castle, Toji is not interested in her social class or status; all he wants from her is the taste and ecstasy that her young blood can give him. He often sees her stop in the distance and admire how majestic the building is, so tall and imposing.

Toji believes that she managed to notice his presence once. Standing in front of the second floor window, as the sun set and he turned his back to the shadows. When their gazes met, it was then that he realized that the pleasures and memories of his human life still lingered there hidden under the clothes of the elegant lord he pretends to be, he wanted her, he wanted her on his property, he wanted her holding his hand and carrying his seed inside her.

With this idea in mind, he waited and counted the days until she would pass by his castle again; he waited and waited until, during twilight, he saw her walking slowly up the clear, flower-filled hill.

The dense flakes of black clouds hid the sun that day as if someone was conspiring on his behalf, so he took the opportunity to approach her, cautiously, making sure his movements would not frighten her, though nothing could make his dead heart beat faster than the sight of her running down the hill as she flees from an inevitable outcome.

Toji blamed her smile. If she hadn't smiled at him in that open, friendly way, as if inviting him to take her right there and then, he might have let her slip away. After all, it was not yet dark and anyone could catch him in the act; however, the way her heart was beating, hidden under her corset-tight ribs, and her nervous, choppy breathing, with her chest rising and falling, had never made him feel so alive as he did at that moment.

She doesn't remember how long it's been or how she got there, sometimes she thinks all she knows is that castle and her master. There are gaps in her memory about the family she lost one day and who she was before; all she remembers are the Count's words: “This is your home now.”

She serves him. She dresses for him. And she allows him, for some reason, to take anything he wants from her including her blood. Whenever he asks she goes to the back room, perfectly decorated with a bed with red silk sheets and sheer curtains hanging from the ceiling. Toji strips her of her clothes and she offers him her previously injured and fang-marked left arm, he feeds sometimes until she faints and loses consciousness. Other times, he calls her to breed her.

Toji is obsessed with the idea of getting her pregnant. One night, he told her how he wants to have children, how he wants to procreate, and that is the only reason she is there, not to serve him dinner or clean his floors; she is there to accept his cum every night and every time he wants to give it to her.

Toji has tried it so many ways, with her on top, underneath, beside him. His fangs are in every inch of her skin, marking her as his, and he keeps trying, wishing that at some point she might give him an heir for eternity so he won't be alone.

So far, though, none of that has worked.

There are days when she wakes up lucid and fear creeps through her veins, making her get out of bed in the middle of the night and run downstairs, screaming in terror. She doesn't remember how many times it has happened, she only knows that he finds her opening the front door and pushes her from behind crushing her against the old wood.

"Where are you going?" he growls annoyed against her ear, his breath hitching.

"Please, my lord; let me go."

Toji is quiet for a moment, perhaps weighing the decision?

"Let's make a deal. I will open the door and you will run as fast as your little legs will allow. If you can catch a moonbeam, I'll let you go.”

The castle is gigantic, she thinks. It will be a moment before she can step out of the shadows of it and reach the light.

"What if I don't make it?" her tear-filled eyes close for a moment and the tears fall.

The Count laughs softly, grinding his hips against her lower back showing her how hard what is about to happen makes him.

"You don't want to find out and ruin the surprise, do you?"

Toji flings open the door and she almost falls to the floor. Her hands touch the ground and she gets up in a hurry to get away from the castle, running as far as she can. Grass brushes against her feet, pebbles cut into the soles of her feet and her dress gets tangled between her thighs, but she keeps going without stopping. She looks back and sees him in his sleeping clothes from the doorway mimicking being a man, wrapped in darkness from his home with jet hair covering his eyes. And with red eyes and sharp fangs, she finally sees him for what he is.

A monster.

She looks ahead, screaming from the depths of her lungs for help. She thinks of her family, of her mother, and picks up the hem of her dress with one hand to run faster. The moonlight seems so close that she thinks she can reach it, but it all becomes a distant dream again the moment a sharp sound tears the air; like the cry of a wounded animal, and her body falls to the ground. Her palms bleed and she screams in pain, in rage, in fear.

"Please!"

"I've got you. Let's go back home."

notes. i believe faithfully that he does this kind of experiments with you. he spreads your pussy with his fingers, pushes his cum inside, maybe hm fucks you in the ass all this to see your reaction. he is addicted to the way you respond to pleasure, to pain, that he wants to know everything about you. how much would your body resist before breaking, how much he should do to make you pregnant.

[gaywarcriminals]

On Mouthwashing, Qijiu, cruel characters, and the role of discomfort in blorbo analysis. 

I recently watched a playthrough and some video essays about the indie horror game Mouthwashing (spoilers ahead). For those not familiar, the game follows a man named Jimmy in a crashed spaceship where he reveals himself to be an unreliable narrator and fucked up in a variety of ways as the game progresses. 

Although I’m not immersed in the fandom and thus have a limited sample size, I noticed that people treat him as nearly inhuman. He’s the sole bad actor, a terrible monster destined to hurt everyone. I find this deeply ironic considering the game’s themes of responsibility and accountability: isn’t this kind of dehumanization absolving him of his responsibility to act decently?

It’s also strange to me, because the game goes at lengths to show Jimmy has an enabler. Captain Curly is Jimmy’s friend and boss who is made aware of Jimmy’s erratic and violent behavior multiple times, chooses to do nothing, and ultimately makes possible many deaths through his inaction. Aside from Jimmy’s public outbursts, there are even scenes with a specific member of their crew expressing how unsafe she feels around Jimmy. Despite this, a decent portion of the fandom sees Curly as nothing more than one of Jimmy’s victims, which is curious to me when placed in contrast with Yue Qingyuan and Shen Jiu.

Yeah yeah I’m blorbo-brained, but I think there’s a lot of points for comparison between Qijiu and Jimmy & Curly, at least in terms of their dynamic and social roles. Jimmy and Shen Jiu are both antisocial assholes with an unhealthy fixation on the generally well liked and affable guy just above them on the totem poll. They’re both convinced their superior is looking down on them, and resent the power he has (SJ less so, he has a lot of other reasons to resent YQY). They both use what power they do have to abuse those below them. Curly and YQY, for their parts, are shown to be explicitly aware of most if not all of their friend’s worrying/dangerous behavior, but do nothing meaningful to stop it. 

If they’re so similar, then why in the case of Mouthwashing is Curly often absolved of his complicity in the face of Jimmy’s overwhelmingly awful actions, whereas in the Scum Villain fandom, it’s just as common to see people pin all of SJ’s actions on YQY and vice versa?

Now, there’s a couple obvious reasons for this. For one, Mouthwashing is a horror game and Jimmy very effectively makes himself the antagonist, which lends itself to the interpretation of him as a the monster afflicting the other characters. For another, Jimmy sexually abused a shipmate, which is a particularly despicable crime (although so, I would argue, is child abuse). There’s also the fact that Curly is very physically robbed of agency for most of the game’s runtime, which might make it harder to see his power and agency before that point, but perhaps the most important difference is that to fans, Jimmy is deeply unlikable, and Shen Jiu is not. 

Personally, I think the reason a lot of people make Jimmy out to be a monster and Shen Jiu to be tragically misunderstood is simple: it can be uncomfortable to like a bad person. 

I don’t think there should be any shame in liking characters who are fucked up people that do horrible things, but I think it chafes at some sensibility within many of us, learned or innate, when we feel such deep emotional connection to a character who’s actions we would normally morally condemn. 

I’ve definitely observed that in some parts of the Shen Jiu fandom– it's the kind of sentiment that leads to discounting his canonical actions in favor of fanon. I’ve never found those fanons very compelling because I have never had any discomfort with Shen Jiu’s canonical actions— in fact, him being a despicable if pitiable mess is what drew me to him (I’m typically quite the fucked-up-evil-guy liker). For once, though, I find myself on the other side of this discomfort with Yue Qingyuan. 

I was thinking today about how one of the earliest things YQY says to SY!SQQ— his 9th line in the novel— was telling SQQ that LBH is strung up in the woodshed, where SQQ always leaves him after beating him. It implies not just that YQY knows about this singular punishment, but that this is an extended pattern of behavior. To me, YQY seems uncomfortable with the situation, but he does nothing to stop LBH from being abused aside from telling SQQ to “be less hard on him”, even though he’s the only person in the sect above SQQ, and potentially the only one with the authority to stop him. 

If Yue Qingyuan knew, did Luo Binghe know the sect leader had found out? Did Luo Binghe know he had been abandoned to his fate?

Like Curly, I think that Yue Qingyuan’s most unforgivable fault as a character was enabling Shen Jiu’s abuse of Luo Binghe and potentially other disciples. I think YQY’s motivations made sense, and I understand the choices he made, but when I think about it for too long I can feel a deep pit in my stomach grow. 

Why does YQY’s arguably lesser crime of enabling SJ bother me so much more than SJ’s own direct actions? Perhaps because I still want to see Yue Qingyuan as a good person, whereas Shen Jiu has already declared himself evil. Maybe I’ve been a little bit caught up in our unreliable narrator’s point of view. 

Fascinatingly, despite his adoration for Luo Binghe, Shen Yuan cum Shen Qingqiu never (to my recollection at least), blames Yue Qingyuan for SJ’s actions. Instead, he sees YQY as one of SJ’s victims— someone that SJ as good as killed, even if it was LBH’s orders that loosed the arrows. 

Shen Qingqiu has a tendency to, for lack of a better term, woobify his favs, and although LBH is by far the most frequent recipient of this treatment, I’d argue that YQY actually receives it more consistently. This is partially because he’s relegated to friendly NPC whereas poor Binghe is the Big Scary Protagonist, but the only time in the whole novel I can think of SQQ seeing YQY as a person capable of harm and fucking up is after YQY’s confession where SQQ puts it together with SJ’s flashbacks, but even then, SQQ sees him more as a cautionary tale for him and Binghe than someone who’s hurt others. Given this narrative bias, I’m honestly surprised* that more of the fandom isn’t simping for YQY too.

Ultimately, I think this discomfort is normal and worthwhile– something to lean into rather than away from. I’d even say it's necessary, should we ever hope to be more media literate than Peerless Cucumber.

*well, I’m not, but that’s a whole piece of fandom history better left untouched