#yes ITS IN THE DOUBLE DIGITS

[katt1281]

Skilltober #10 : Authority

[paperhatcollection]

For aspiring young trainers, Vinyl City- music capital of the world, offers a unique and harmonious opportunity for people and Pokemon alike. While the city may lack both a League and Championship status for the region, there is no shortage of contests and concerts to dig one's teeth into. While there may not be the opportunities to battle found in other regions across the world, bonds between trainers and their Pokemon shine as brightly in this city as any other, if not more.

You know, despite the pokemon, we don’t actually see NSR’s gameplay loop changing all that much.

We don’t really believe that just because you’re giving these characters a pokemon team that the game would automatically become an rpg, or that everything would now be solved by a pokemon battle. Or anything, really. Mayday and Zuke are musicians, neither of them have any actual interest in straight battling. Sure, they’ll take the NSR artists on in a battle of the bands, but aside from the pokemon now being responsible for some of the attacks you already see in the base game (DJ’s Minior does his sun beam attack for him, Rillaboom aids Yinu’s mother in slamming into the ground, etc), but you never fight them directly. With the exception of Neon J’s team, none of these pokemon have even been trained for battling.

We’d also say most of the fun in picking out pokemon for characters like these is the hows and whys- there’s more to this sort of thing than just picking from a list. Did the trainer want this pokemon, or did they stumble upon it? What stories might the two share? What have they been through together? Eve probably had the most discarded pokemon on this list- not just in terms of being considered, but outright with bits of lore in our head as to the why and written blurbs for their place on the team. Who knows, maybe Eve has more pokemon than this, and this is only her current ‘performance’ team.

Shoutout to PoisonousSugar over on deviantart [LINK], who was responsible for the original trainer card used to make this!

Likewise, we couldn’t make something like this without mentioning this art [LINK] of Neon J with a shiny Dhelmise by Corruptimles. Not only is it some sick art, but the pokemon just fits Neon J to such a T that anytime we see someone give these artists pokemon without giving Neon J this ‘mon, it just looks wrong

Likewise, Espathra works so well for Eve, that if we were only giving all these artists one pokemon each, that would 100% be her partner. Aliendragondreaming recently made pokemon teams for all the nsr artists that inspired us to also take a crack at the idea [LINK]- and though Minior for DJ was something we had already had the idea of before this, their picks for Neon J and Eve each inspired the same Pokemon for those trainers on this list.

And finally, shoutout to the (literally being) pokemon au done by meister-draws [LINK], in which their picks for what Team Sayu would be are so good we just imagine the kids having these pokemon each. Both ideas they created for the DJ are also really good (if you asked us? DJSS as a Deoxys is really good, with the theming and ego of this man. Plus it adds something to the whole ‘you think you’re so special and above us all, but you’re not stronger/important than anyone else. Minor works really well as a pokemon he has, but not so much one he is, even if it’s stature is as short as he is)

Finally, a written description of the text in this image under the read more just in case:

MAYDAY

Fuecoco

A newcomer to Mayday’s team, inspired by tales from Zukes past and Kul Fyra’s performances. While it’s true Mayday had always wanted a fire type of her own, they are not native to the islands.

Pikachu

Enjoys rocking out during B2J’s performances, and can serve as a handy jumpstart if its trainer doesn’t feel like breaking out the equipment. Also answers to Sparky, Ratman, Hey you, and Pichu.

Trubbish

Optional Pokemon the player can find if they click around the sewers enough times. It must’ve been attracted to the piles of junk a certain someone keeps bringing home. Seems to enjoy the sounds of B2J’s concerts.

Any fan of rock is a friend in her book!

ZUKE

Krookodile

This lazy ‘croke spends most of its days dozing away. However, if it were to run into a certain someone from its trainer's past, Krookodile would become aggravated and protective of its trainer.

Luvdisc

A gift from someone Zuke used to be close with.

Is unsure how Mayday even came across a Fuecoco to begin with.

DJ SUBATOMIC SUPERNOVA

Minior

A rare, enticing find worthy of being his partner Pokemon. While the DJ can easily tell Saturn apart from the other Miniors, fans struggle picking it out from just the shells.

The Club Planetarium is filled with indigo Miniors, though their shells rarely break. It’s a guessing game amongst fans to try and find ‘Saturn’.

YINU + MOTHER

Applin

Currently Yinu’s first and only Pokemon, Applin was obtained fairly recently to remember a loved one by.

Appletun

Despite being a normally calm Pokemon, Appletun has been acting aggressively of late, and refuses to follow orders given by Yinus mother in battle. It has an undeniable soft spot for the family, however, including the Applin belonging to Yinu.

Shaymin

Technically, the Shaymin of Natura is meant to be in the protection of the district's current charter. However, as Shaymin require advanced care, it is being looked after by Yinu’s mom until she’s old enough to properly care for it.

Rillaboom

Has a remarkable knack for keeping rhythm, even amongst its fellow kind. Has been trained by Yinus mother to duet with her should the need arise.

Chesnaught

Extremely protective of the family, is tasked with keeping Yinu safe during Bunk Bed Junctions hijacking.

Tropius

Yinu’s favorite of her mother’s Pokemon, as it always allows her to eat the fruit from its neck.

Appleton will join Yinu’s team one day, alongside Shaymin.

1010

Falinks

Lacking a Brass, each Trooper is instead assigned to a 1010 unit. The two move and fight as one, constantly changing their formation as they battle. It seems both are listening to orders given from offset.

Fans have just as much fun coming up with personalities for each Trooper as they do for the 1010’s themselves.

NEON J

Klinklang

Neon J was given this Pokemon (already fully evolved) when he awoke with a new rank and body.

Aegislash

It wasn’t originally known this sword was even a Pokemon, until it was given to a newly rebuilt Neon J and sprung to life. Neon J feels as though he can relate to it, the Navy feels as though they should check the armory.

Dhelmise

Caught from the wreckage of a ship during his time in the Navy, his go-to battle partner.

Falinks

Although Neon J enters the fray with only the Brass by his side, it quickly calls its Troopers back from the 1010’s limo. It considers Neon J’s orders absolute.

Quaquaval

Although Quaxly was Neon J’s starter Pokemon, its struggle with self confidence led to it being unevolved until after the war. It now only waits for its trainer's command to take the spotlight.

Ludicolo

After failing to catch a Wingull for several hours as a child, Neon J had stumbled upon Lotad entirely by mistake. It is now hard for him to imagine his team without Ludicolo on it.

All of Neon J’s pokemon have been taught how to, and enjoy, dancing with their trainer

EVE 

Smeargle

Her starter, starting out as a young artist. Has been with her the longest, and has picked up quite a strange assortment of moves, even with Sketch’s notorious reputation. 

Espathra

Although Flittles aren’t native to Vinyl City, Eve found the Pokemon injured while searching for inspiration for her art. After aiding it, it has clung to Eve’s side ever since and fiercely defends her.

Mr. Mime

Aids Eve in her performances, is a bit of a diva in its own right.

Furfrou

Everytime this Pokemon has been seen in public, it has had a brand new hairstyle and color job applied. Rumor has it that it was a gift from someone Eve was close to before becoming a Charter.

Malamar

Despite its fearsome reputation, this Pokemon merely enjoys the lights of Vinyl City, and cares deeply for the trainer that raised it. Eve has used it’s ink for her art before.

Milotic

After acquiring Smeargle, Feebas was the first Pokemon Eve encountered and caught on her journey. Eve now considers it fate the two of them met.

Eve has been known to take spa days with her Pokemon in tow.

TATIANA

Chatot

Rarely ever seen without her trusty Chatot, the public is very aware of what is believed to be her sole Pokemon companion. Despite this fact, very little is known about it or how Tatiana acquired it.

Volcarona

It was said that Kul Fyra had a Volcarona that shone so brightly and burned so hot during performances that it rivaled the sun.

Rumor has it that even Kul Fyra lost in a battle to Tatian’s orderly strategies. 

[p3achj3llyf1sh]

I was lazy so I just made a chill artwork with a tiny bit of shading.

[justsomedumbbi]

You do not K N O W pain until you become obsessed with a character that not enough people care about, and you become invested in a ship involving them that a quarter of those people even know about.

I JUST WANT TO SEE THESE TWO KISS, IS THAT REALLY SUCH A HOT TAKE???

[link to (half of the) art here]

[a-sleepy-ginger]

20/2/24

❆❅❆❅❆

Finally made opticians appointment

Got some college work done

Cooked good pasta

[productofaritual]

I've read my fair share of fics. Over a hundred in fact, I tried and counted one time. For context I read the same type of stuff I write, SBI, beeduo, occasionally I'll dip in some finances trio stuff. But I have an observation to be made about one specific black and white lanky bitch (with all the love)

AND THAT IS THE RIDICULOUS AMOUNT OF TIMES THAT RANBOO GETS KIDNAPPED. I DON'T KNOW IF IT'S A TREND I FORGOT OR SOMETHING BUT GOD DAMMIT WHY

[kasiobite03]

lpm escuche la cancion q quiera usar para un anmatic y me puse a llorar nooooooo wtf

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Wham! - Last Christmas 1984

"Last Christmas" is a song by British pop duo Wham!. Written and produced by George Michael, it was released on 3 December 1984 via CBS Records internationally and as a double A-side via Epic Records with "Everything She Wants" in several European countries. Wham! donated all of their royalties to relief efforts for the Ethiopian famine.

Upon its initial release in 1984, "Last Christmas" spent five consecutive weeks at number two in the UK singles chart—it was held off the top spot at Christmas by Band Aid's "Do They Know It's Christmas?" (poll #444), on which Michael also performed. After many chart runs in subsequent years, which included three more weeks at number two, the song finally reached number one in the UK Singles Chart on New Year's Day 2021, more than 36 years after its initial release; in doing so, it became the fifth UK number one single for the duo. Prior to it reaching number one, "Last Christmas" had for many years held the record as the highest-selling single never to top the charts by the Official Charts Company (OCC) with 1.9 million copies sold (not including streams). The song reached number one in the UK after it was streamed 9.2 million times in the last week of 2020 and sold 1,555 downloads, resulting in a total of 40,149 combined sales.

Having been the Christmas number two again in 2022, "Last Christmas" finally achieved the accolade of Christmas number one in 2023, 39 years after its initial release, and, in 2024, became the first song to be the Christmas number one in back-to-back years. Combining sales and streams, it also became the third biggest song of all time in the UK. It was certified sextuple platinum in December 2023. Outside the UK, the song topped the charts in fourteen countries and peaked within the top ten of the charts in several countries including Australia, Canada and the US. In Germany, the song is the most successful Christmas single of all time, having spent 169 weeks on the German Singles Chart and attained a peak position of number 1 on 24 December 2021. It has charted every year since 1997. It is the eighth best-selling single of all time in Japan released by a non-Japanese act. It also reached number two on the Billboard Global 200 in January 2021. On 10 December 2024, the digital single was certified 7× Platinum by the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA), indicating US sales of 7 million digital units.

The 2019 film Last Christmas prominently features the music of George Michael, including this song.

"Last Christmas" received a total of 78,3% yes votes! Previous Wham!/George Michael polls: #62 "As", #108 "Everything She Wants", #219 "Freedom! '90".

[wriothesleysgf]

THRONE. ryomen sukuna.

cws: [ex]plicit content - mdni . monsterfucking (true form sukuna), overstimulation, dacryphilia, degradation, pet names (mostly gn except two uses of princess), ds dynamics, possessivenes, sadomasochism, double penetration, cunnilingus, finger sucking, subspace, creampies, some aftercare.

notes: this is gonna get t*gg3d since it's pure filth, so reblogs are rly appreciated lol.

wc: 1.7k

"𝐒𝐔'- '𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇! 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓- 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐃𝐎 𝐈𝐓!" you squealed, writhing in sukuna's hold.

you were sitting on his lap on the throne of his domain, facing him. though your clothes had been long since discarded, sukuna's trousers were only pulled down enough for him to be fisting both of his cocks simultaneously. the fortunate thing about being a cursed being with four arms was that he could continue to restrain you as he prepared himself for you.

"fucking brat," he spat, "you aren't going back on your word now. i despise liars and weaklings, and what was it you said, hmm? what got you into this situation, slut?"

he cocked an eyebrow at you, and you looked into his many eyes before replying in a hushed whisper. although sukuna had heard you perfectly fine the time before, he wanted to play with his food before absolutely devouring it. "speak up, pet. do what you're told."

"i-" you stuttered, shaking in fear at the curse's predatory gaze. you then cleared your throat, mustering every ounce of strength necessary for you to speak up. "i said i could take both of your cocks at once, sir..."

"and?" oh, he was truly cruel.

"i don' wanna say,"

"and why's that, brat?" despite maintaining his callous demeanour, sukuna became focused on scanning your expression and body language for any true signs of discomfort - he didn't wish to take things too far with such a precious thing such as yourself.

"'s embarrassing."

he scoffed at your meek response, amused that he'd thought you were uncomfortable when you were merely embarrassed. how human of you.

one of sukuna's hands let go of his cock, not bothering to wipe off the drops of precum mixed with spit that stained his fingers. he drew it back, before landing a harsh slap against your cheek. "you speak when spoken to, bitch. do you understand?"

his thumb moved to rest on your chin, angling your gaze to face him. he waited for you to state a clear "yes, sir," before slipping his thumb between your lips. instinctively, you began to suck on the tip of the digit, eyes remaining on sukuna's face.

"good pet. . . that will be your only warning. any further infractions will be met with ample punishment. now," he removed his wet thumb from your mouth, shifting it to rest on your swollen clit. he chuckled darkly as his long, thick fingers inspected your sloppy folds. "i was going to make you ride my boot, yet you're already dripping like a bitch in heat." sukuna then leaned back, loosening his grip both on you and allowing his cocks to lazily bounce against his toned stomach. "come on, princess. claim your throne."

for a moment, you questioned the cursed being. typically he enjoyed bullying his girth into you, so surely this had to be some kind of trap, right? regardless, the urge to satiate the emptiness that you felt between your legs was so immense that, without further questioning, you shifted to hover over both of sukuna's cocks.

you began with just the one on top, gripping its base and rubbing the tip through your folds before aligning it with your entrance. this action earned you a warning glare, a promise that you'd be punished if you made another movement that could be interpreted as teasing sukuna. though that hadn’t been your sole intention, you took it on the nose and continued the feat of getting his inhumane cock into yourself.

sukuna’s head lolled back, clearly enjoying himself as you managed to push the tip of him into your warm walls. his cockhead dragged across your sweet spot, causing your cunt to flutter around him. it took each little bit of self control for the curse not to grip your hips and force you to take the rest, then begin to bounce you around like a human fleshlight, though he managed to keep it together… mostly. occasionally, he would thrust his hips upwards very slightly, masking his own desperation with a gruff “hurry up”.

slowly but surely, you managed to work your way down his thick length, with your legs trembling by the time he was bottomed out inside of you. no matter how many times he’d fucked you before, it still burned ever so slightly. the out of character benevolence once again showed itself in the form of a thumb on your clit, a hand on the small of your back, and another nonchalantly dabbing at the odd stray tear that you’d shed as you grew accustomed to the stretch. soon enough, the pain dulled and was replaced by pure euphoria. you gave him the signal that you were fine to continue, and thus the barbarity returned.

“tight fuckin’ cunt,” sukuna growled, “i’m practically splitting you in half, pet, and we haven’t even made it to the main event.” he punctuated his mockery by conjuring a mouth on the palm of his hand, its hot tongue darting out to lick the remainder of tears from your wet cheeks. the salty taste was akin to ambrosia to the curse, the fact that he’d been the one to make you cry only turning him on moreso.

he wasn’t going to make you take his other cock yourself; instead, he let you haphazardly bounce on his length while he fisted the other a few times. you were too distracted to notice him spread a generous amount of lube over your tighter hole. he slid a finger past the taut ring of muscle, cooing over you in order to prevent you getting too antsy whilst he prepped your ass. sukuna didn’t reprimand you when you buried your face in the crook of his neck, rather he used it as further opportunity to get your pretty hole ready for his cock.

being with him in such a manner often resulted in you being subject to pain, though sukuna had trained his whore to crave the pleasure that shortly followed. therefore, you opted for biting on your lip and made no motion to tell him to stop when he progressed from scissoring your asshole open to gently working the tip of his secondary cock inside.

you whimpered at the sensation, another painful stretch that was slowly replaced with the feeling of being as full as you can be. two of sukuna’s strong arms tilted you backwards, easing more of himself into you. this was the last time that he would be tender, for you were beginning to exhibit a couple of a signs that you were nearing a point of overstimulation - the wide and teary eyes, the way that your bottom lip began to quiver, and the soft, sweet little cries that you tried and subsequently failed to muffle (much to sukuna’s delight).

“what a perfect whore,” he mused, “do you like both of my cocks in your little holes? no human could ever fuck you this good, you’re mine. my pet,”

he continued to spit a mixture of degrading and possessive phrases as two of his hands aided your hips, rocking you on his dual cocks. when you tilted yourself forward, it was a struggle not to collapse into sukuna’s arms. he picked up on this quickly, noticing you relying on his hold more with each passing moment. he then resorted to the sole method that he used with you: pain. once again, you received a harsh slap across the face, only this time, it was followed with another hand delivering a similarly mean spank to your ass. this caused you to clench around his cocks, earning a smirk from him.

“good bitch,” his words were laced with mischief and malice, “listen to my voice, don’t worry about anything else. just keep taking me like the worthless thing you are,”

countless names followed, with sukuna successfully distracting you from his current antics. it wasn’t until you felt his warm tongue against your clit that you noticed what he had done.

the curse had conjured a mouth on his lower stomach, positioned perfectly to lap at your drooling cunt while you fucked yourself on him. such feeling was the final nail in the coffin, and your movements grew sloppy, a sign that you were nearing you high. not bothered about chiding you and instead appreciating that dumb little look on your pretty face, sukuna placed his upper two hands under your arms, with the lower ones remaining on your hips. he lifted you up and down, forcing you to take all of him with each rotation.

“my fucking slut, my cockwhore, my sweet toy,”

repetitive rambles fell from sukuna’s lips as he continued to toy with your body like you were nothing. the both of you were nearing your respective high, and sukuna, knowing your body expertly at this point, nipped at your clit, then proceeded to suck the puffy bud - something that always drove you insane. your own words were reduced to incoherent babbles, brain turned to mush and legs to jelly as he continued to pump his cocks into you.

before you knew it, you were clenching around him, cumming with a loud cry as sukuna helped you ride it out. your body’s reactions drove him over the edge, cunt spasming around his cocks as he shot his loads into both of your holes. as much as he wanted to watch his seed dribble out of you, he knew that it was best to help you off of him, not caring about the mess on his lap.

he never really knew what to say during times like this, despite typically being a man with a sizeable vocabulary. so, he settled with holding you while you clung to him, your arms loosely wrapped around his torso and head buried in the crook of his neck. simply knowing that he let you hug him so tenderly was enough for you, because it showed that he cared about you even despite whatever harsh things he would say in the moment. the way that his arms awkwardly moved to return the embrace warmed your heart, and what more could a princess ask for?

[genericpuff]

holy crap okay so

I'm two episodes into Kaos

normally I keep my expectations pretty minimal because, let's be real, the Internet - and especially Tumblr - has a tendency to severely overhype new series to be way better than they actually are and it often leaves me sitting there like "that's it? that's what people were freaking out over for weeks?? that was just a bunch of cheap ships and tropes that i've seen 123785902380 times before" LMAO

BUT thankfully compared to other series like Hazbin Hotel and The Amazing Digital Circus, I haven't been worn out on excessive fandom exposure prior to watching Kaos, so I didn't really know what to expect going in besides what folks have told me so far - it's a modern-day Greek epic, and it stars Jeff Goldblum as Zeus (which is, unsurprisingly, peak casting).

That said, I'm very pleased to say that so far, the show is absolutely blowing me away. The set designs, characterizations, weaving of all the players into a central narrative led by a very coy narrator, all of it feels both refreshing and respectful to the source material at the same time.

so uh yeah that LO animated TV show... we have reason to believe now that it's gotten picked up by Amazon Prime, at least according to the showrunner's LinkedIn and posting history from February of this year that seems to imply LO may have been picked up by Amazon-

(but still, nothing's really been confirmed because they're being so tight-lipped about this you'd almost think it's because there isn't a show happening at all cough)

But even then, that means at best we still won't see anything of the LO TV show adaption for another 2-3 years, depending on how production goes.

Why am I talking about LO right now? Well it should be obvious - Kaos double-whammied LO by beating it to the punch at its own game.

I mean, just look at the creative choices alone in the design of the Underworld and its rulers, our beloved Hades and Persephone.

And yes, the entire Underworld is color-graded like this, something so simple and yet effective in communicating the nature of the Underworld and what it stands for - a place where the past lives on through the dead, paused in time, devoid of the vibrant color grading found in Olympus - or "Olympia" as its been named in this retelling - which is, by the way, a visual treat to take in every time it's featured.

(and yes, that is S-tier-companion Billie Piper on the left, but I will not tell you who she's playing, you actually really should go into this show as blind as possible for the thrill of figuring out these characters as they're introduced <3)

That's not even getting into the narrative structure of the plot itself or the phenomenal casting and acting, but again, I don't want to spoil too much as the show is quite new, and I want to actually finish watching the show myself before I get more into the details of its story and how it delivers it (I'm very much hoping I will still be singing this show's praises at the end of its 8 episodes, please for the love of god don't jump the shark, I don't think my heart can take that kind of pain again.)

All that's to say though, Kaos is, so far, exactly what us disappointed fans of LO deserve after all these years, and frankly, I feel like whatever is coming for the LO animated TV show is really gonna have to step up to the plate to both live up to the bar that Kaos has set as well as stand on its own without being affiliated as a cheap Amazon knockoff living in its shadow. Sounds a little familiar and a bit ironic, doesn't it?

[knockoffheart]

Neuman’s Guard Dog (3/3)

summary: no better way to unwind after committing murder than getting absolutely destroyed by your morally grey girlfriend <3 god i wish that were me (minus the murder)

warnings: SMUT, fingering(r receiving), blood play (one small instance), fully clothed(victoria) x completely nude(r), fingering from behind, top Vic, alcohol ment. (red wine), proposal ment. , overstim, ment. of suicide (nothing serious), you could consider it angst if you feel so inclined, GENERAL ‘THE BOYS’ disclaimer

before you read: Reader is aware of Vic's blood powers. NOT aware of Vic's head explosions (ex. congress attack), relationship to Stan Edgar, The Boys (especially Hughie being involved). Sameer and Zoe do not exist in any of my AUs. Reader has been in life-threatening situations before, not a fan of them, but has been in at least two before.

|

A storm rages outside, its howling wind puts you on edge — something deep inside you stirs. Victoria senses your newly tensed state and rubs your shoulders.

“Why don’t I go get us some celebratory wine?” she chimes.

She takes your grin back at her as a ‘yes’ and starts downstairs. You stand and strip, the nightwear Victoria provided you is comfortable but it isn’t yours. The garments carry the weight of your temporary prison, a place you long to forget. You fold and set them on the dresser. Your girlfriend returns before you can open your pajama drawer.

Victoria stalks into the room, eyeing your nude body. She slinks up behind you and places an empty wine glass into your hand, you let out a sigh of satisfaction and lean back into her.

“Well now this is unfair,” you tease, “This is the second time today I’ve been completely naked while you’ve been in that damn suit.”

Victoria wraps her arms around your waist, one hand holds her own empty glass while the other holds the bottle of wine. She coos a fake apology into your ear. The scent of red wine lingers on her breath, you scoff and tap your empty cup.

“Double unfair!” you taunt.

Victoria laughs and raises the bottle to pour, you can’t see the roguish grin she wears behind you. She jerks her arm and the bottle tips, a stream of red wine splashes onto your chest and drizzles its way down your body. You gasp out and push her back jokingly.

“Oh! You so did that on purpose!” you accuse.

She laughs and sets the glass and bottle of the dresser before guiding you back against it.

“I did—“ she purrs, “Don’t worry, I’ll clean it up.”

Victoria trails kisses from your collarbone to chest. She drags her tongue down the trail of wine. She kneels and places soft kisses at your stomach, leaving a smattering of lip prints as she makes her way down to your thighs. Vic laps at the wine droplets that have pooled on your inner thigh. Her licks and suckles are planned and precise, she’s toying with you. You bite down on your index finger, trying to compose yourself against her incessant teasing. Though, you’ve forgotten about your newly sharpened canines; a fang pricks the tip of your finger and a small droplet of blood starts to form.

“Ah-“ you wince and retreat back to your beside table to grab a tissue.

Victoria studies you curiously, she watches as a few drops dribble onto your palm. Slowly, she lurks beside you; practically purring in your ear as she raises your hand up to her lips. She licks across your palm before encasing your finger into her mouth, sucking on the wounded digit.

You gasp and an exhilarated chill runs through you. Her deep brown eyes meet yours as she pulls away. The corners of your mouth furl upward in astonishment.

“Fuck, Vicky….” you whimper.

“You know what’s unfair? Every part of you tastes so fucking good,” Victoria coos as she bends you down against the bed.

Her fingers rub in between your slightly spread legs. She mumbles praises under her breath as she watches how your body reacts. A moan of approval falls from her mouth when she pulls her fingers away, a sticky trail connects them to your core. Firm slaps against your ass causes pathetic sobs to spill from you. This display causes Victoria to purse her lips together in attempt to stifle a whimper. You feel her start to rub furiously at your clit. She slides two slender fingers into your sopping cunt and pumps with the same fervor from before.

You grab fistfuls of the bedsheet and bite down softly on your hand as Victoria fingers you from behind. Your attempts to self-control don’t go unnoticed.

“Awh, I don’t think so baby, don’t hide those pretty sounds — Hands behind your back” Victoria orders.

You obey and instantly Victoria locks your wrist together with her free hand. This position leaves you lying head first into the bed, your face is wet with your own tears and drool — Victoria wishes she could frame this view in her mind.

“Fuck-“ Victoria lays against you, pinning you down onto the bed. “You’re such a good girl,” she pants, “All mine.”

“Y-yes, yours… A-All yours! ” you stammer, “H-Hah… Fuck…”

Your brain feels fuzzy, like the static buzzing off of an old tv. Your body tremors, you’re about to reach your limit and all you can do is mewl and listen to Victoria’s moans flood your mind. She presses a sloppy kiss against your cheek and slides her free hand against your throat. She urges you to let go. You cry and spill into her palm, coating her fingers.

She rides out your high, relishing every twitch and whimper you produce. She smacks your cunt a few times, the wet slaps leave you in a trembling heap. The pathetic noises you make turn into choked croaks and she finally relents. You try to steady yourself, but your legs aren’t quite ready to support you yet. Victoria sprawls out on the bed, pulling you close to her, she has a thin layer of sweat on her forehead but the rest of her remains pristine. You’re a mess — Victoria strokes your hair and kisses your forehead anyways.

“You’re perfect,” she hums. “My perfect girl.”

Her fingers trail up and down your body. She takes in your figure and drowns in your half-lidded eyes. You look so fragile, sickeningly sweet.

“I really mean it,” she affirms, “If anyone hurts you, I’ll fucking kill them.” Her grip on you tightens slightly.

The statement reminds you of the incident at the hotel room. Your stomach stirs uncomfortably and you play with the hem of Victoria’s suit. You try and muster up the courage to speak your next words aloud.

“Hughie knows…” you trail off, “He saw me.” An imaginary news article flashes in your mind.

‘CIA Affiliate, Hughie Campbell, Found Dead

Suicide by two gunshots in the back of the head…’

The thought of your old friend being murdered by your girlfriend makes the hair on the back of your neck stand. Victoria still hasn’t responded.

“He helped me,” you blurt.

Anger boils in Victoria’s chest, she should have been the one to save you. She imagines the state he might have found you in and seethes. Would he use you against her? Expose your new power to the world to get back at her? He wouldn’t. Right?

“Vicky?” you whisper.

“He’s a good guy.” She states, “He wouldn’t do anything to harm you.”

“What about you?” you ask.

“You worry about me too much,” she teases.

She kisses you, mostly to get your mind off the topic at hand. She feels you start to melt into her, then she feels you fight against it. Her nails dig a little too hard into the flesh of your hips and you pull away from the kiss. She doesn’t acknowledge her roughness, instead she rises and pulls you up.

“We should really go to sleep,” she chides. “I’d like to get some sleep before the insanity of tomorrow…”

You nod and yawn, seemingly reminded of how tired you really are.

-

You grab a set of silk pajamas and head to the bathroom to do your nightly routine. Victoria follows suit. She opens her dresser drawer and grabs a nightgown; a small, sleek box stares back at her. It holds the engagement ring she’s bought for you, the black velvet void of the box calls to her — Do it, before it’s too late. She closes the drawer quickly and takes a deep breath before joining you in the bathroom.

Victoria will propose. She’ll tell the world about you; you deserve that. There are so many dirty secrets and she doesn’t want you to be one of them.

You fall asleep spooning her, your soft breath tickles her neck and lures her closer to slumber. But, there is an unrelenting, festering feeling in her stomach that won’t let her sleep. Her web of lies is caving in on itself and you’re tangled up in the middle. She reminds herself you are not hopeless prey curled up next to its killer; she will protect you.

The bloodied hotel room flashes in her mind — a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Her hand rests upon yours and she strokes the bare ring finger. Do it, before it’s too late.

|

<- previous page

authors note: omg it’s 5am and i finished this.. one very sleepy read through later… i’ll do a more focused clean up when i awaken. anyways i will be writing a sappy proposal fic me thinks… but im on a queen maeve kick rn so that’ll come later… PLS SUGGEST THINGS FOR ME TO WRITE in my ask box!! <3

fuel my writing -> tips or reblog,like,comment!

[court-jobi]

Reheat

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's work OR the mindblowing art of @gsony24))

Pairing: Midoriya x reader (support-hero!reader x teacher Izuku)

Words: 2.5k

Rating: G~

Warnings: comfort fic, tooth-rotting fluff here y'all, established relationship, work stress (livin' vicariously), talks of the future, a few fem pronouns used, but generally gender-neutral

Summary:

Izuku letting himself into your home after a long day has become comfortable background noise, and one you love to hear while you're bogged down. Work has been following you home all week. He's proud of you, without a doubt... But equally concerned when he sees your dinner half-eaten, your mind scatterbrained and racing faster than he can anchor you, and your angel eyes in desperate need of some TLC. He's cemented his place in your heart- and sees no reason he can't make himself at home here already.

A/N: do I have bigger fics in mind? Yes. Did I write this instead of sleeping bc I love soft, encouraging Deku? Also yes. Izuku Midoriya is a motivational speaker.

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on AO3

“Hey honey! I’m here!”

Over the tinny, background chatter of a podcast streaming from your phone, you call back to Izuku letting himself in.

“Hey you~” You throw interest into your voice, but still stayed tuned into your work.

“Ooo what’s this… What did you make here on the stove?”

“Risotto– it’s Italian~ has lots of veggies and good stuff in it,” you didn’t stop your typing pace, engrossed too heavily in getting an email out before you forget about it and Gmail has to ‘nudge’ you, again, “-gave it a Japanese spin with what I had in the house.”

“Oh wow– oh my gosh, honey– this is so good!”

You look up since your darling man has just appeared in your doorway, sparkly eyed to see you, but equally sated by what’s just graced his mouth. It was a meal you could babysit between taking a quick shower, getting ready for work, letting its flavors marry in the fridge throughout the day, and popping back on the stove that night.

“I’m glad, happy you like it~”

“D’you eat?” Izuku asks, midbite.

“Mhm. Little bit ago,” You motion to your bowl- but when he comes alongside you, he tuts over noting it's only half empty.

“You didn't finish- you feelin’ ok?”

Having circled back onto your screen, you double take again, this time caught by his perception check over you and feeling guilty. 

“Oh. Guess I didn't. I’ll nuke it up here in a bit.”

Izuku, setting down his bowl and starting the -normally alluring- task of rolling up his shirt sleeves to his forearms, comes to your side. However since you’re paying little mind to your peripherals, you missed the show the was making of it. A simple ask of ‘what’re you working on’ came from him, sounding no different than if he wasn't trying to make eyes at you; fact was, you just weren't paying attention.

“Just some stuff for the interns,” the sight of how many tabs are open on your split screen -and in your mind- make you sigh, “With this new role, I kinda feel like you some days. Lesson plans, processing their paperwork; it’s all the stuff you had to turn in as an intern– only now I'm the one dealing with it on the backend.”

Izuku sifted around though your training materials and your propped tablet making itself useful as a second screen. At your handwritten to-do list that’s one of the only things non-digitized nowadays, he makes an offhand comment that your handwriting is nice. It's the kind of cute, ‘blink-and-you’d-miss-it’ things he says that you just hum to, whether you were really listening or not.  

When you glance up to him again, you see he’s watching you with a caring gaze and feel caught.

 “What’re you looking at?” you tease, typing again to break the silence.

“A pretty girl…” Izuku teased lightly, “who doesn’t know when to take a break.”

You type away at his call out– the need for a night off at Izuku’s side is exactly why you've been working so hard at this. You figured you'd get some of this extra prep work under control now, so by the time he rolls around on Wednesday for your standing date n–

You freeze. 

Realizing what day it is in your planner.  It's Wednesday. For dinner.

“Oh my God- -you’re here.”

“Mhmmm~” Izuku really doesn't want to laugh, but his sucking in of a lip isn't hiding it well. 

“ohmygod imtheworst!!” you refresh your face in both hands, talking through the gaps.

“You are not!” Izuku chuckled, setting your notes down. “You just got busy with all the new tasks, because you’re just that good.” 

A faithful, scarred hand comes over to smooth over your back, pulling you over into a little half hug. You sink against him, relishing in his little forehead kiss. He can try all he likes to cure your embarrassment, but you look to him apologetically.

“I’ve never forgotten our dinner dates, ‘Zuku…”

Your darling shrugged unbothered, “Had to happen sometime. It’s no big deal.”

“Is to me,” you pressed- very much bothered.

“Honey,” Izuku chips your chin up, “You’re too hard on yourself. It’s ok, these things happen! I mean, you still made a delicious dinner; even if it was a bit of an oversight I would -in fact- be eating it.”

The pang of guilt hits you at forgetting. This was just a symptomatic sign that the brilliance of your taking on the additional role of Education Coordinator at the agency was perhaps an over-zealous one. Not only to be on-call for your base job as a linguistics quirk specialist, but to balance another full time role on the office hours end? Why did you convince Fatgum this was a good idea? It sounded like a stellar idea back at the beginning of the summer…

Now you’re forgetting not just who you’re supposed to be eating with- but also eating in general.

“I’m glad you did,” you boost Izuku’s elephant-like memory, “It feels so normal to have you here, it's not like I completely forgot I’d see you today. I just– maybe I… thought I was gonna take some to you, since I wouldn't see you till later in the week? I dunno.”

“C’mere- never got a real hug.” 

You rise at his hand’s insistence, and stretch up into his full, healing embrace. 

“Hi baby,” you cooed pitifully.

“Hi, my angel. Missed you today.”

You hummed at the affection, sinking into his neck more out of your residual misery.

Izuku simply took advantage of you being close to sway you in his wide stance- a dance, sans music.

“I appreciate you cooking so much for us,” he spoke gently from his perch over your shoulder, “I was looking forward to it all day, y’know? You’re always so thoughtful with everything you make.”

He’s pressing into you with compliments- against your hard wiring to accept…

“‘Zuku.”

“It’s true~ you’re generous! You remember what my favorites are, and leave out the stuff I don’t like; you even send me leftovers. And you make snacks and treats for when the midnight munchies strike– what can’t you do?”

“Zuku…”

“And you–” he runs a hand through your hair as he sways your shy self back and forth, “-- make for the most funny, beautiful, fascinating, most inspiring company I could ever hope to share a meal with.”

Head thunking onto his shoulder, you playfully land a closed fist on his chest with a muffled, whiny plea for him to stop.

He sighs, all in good humor.

“This streak of yours... I really have my work cut out for me, don’t I? Still can’t imagine how bad it must be in that brilliant mind that my incredible girlfriend has such a hard time accepting the tiniest compliment. Maybe it’s all that late night American comedy you watch...”

You exhale then fix him with your coolest look of sarcasm, anything to show that you have a modicum of having your shit together. So you cope with humor- who doesn't?

–shame that it looks too much like a pout and makes you decidedly not threatening at all, because Izuku just beams brightly at you in response.

“Oh! Now there’s my melty princess- I was wondering where she went.”

And at that, the aloofness was gone, and you snort into a laugh and hug him tighter around the neck. He even scoops you up and gives you one little twirl for good measure. 

When he set you down, Izuku cups your face in his hands and gifts you a few more forehead kisses before demanding your sights. 

“Now. We need to get you to finish eating first. Then, what can I do to help you tonight, hm? How can I make things easier for you?”

With a softer eye to your desk’s work, you sat back down staying connected to your ever doting Izuku by way of your hand in his. You tried again to focus back. You're newly refreshed by his affections and attempt for a more positive outlook, 

“Well, my goal of doing this tonight was so that I didn’t have to go in early tomorrow. Course, if I do run myself ragged tonight, I won't be any good to anyone there– or for you, here. But I think if I pare it down to just getting these e-sigs ready and getting their time-in checklists set up for their work study onboarding, that would give me a good enough start, and I can fill in the rest of their packets tomorrow. But that means I’d need -ugh- maybe… another hour of work tonight?” you looked to him for his approval, “I have a template, so it shouldn’t take me forever.”

“Alright! You’re the boss,” Izuku supported your plan with a smile, “How about I take care of the kitchen for you while you finish up?”

“You do not have to clean my kitchen!” you spouted back, offended– causing a laugh to burst from him, “It’s not funny! I didn’t ask you to come over after a day of work yourself to just slave away at my mess.”

Izuku fixed you a look, as if you knew better. 

“I think I can tidy up a kitchen, no matter how busy of a day I’ve had. Yours isn't even over yet- so when precisely were you going to have the energy to hammer at it? You’ll enjoy not having that mountain waiting for you.”

You huffed, but smiled gratefully all the same. 

“Besides, it’s just me- doing something nice for the woman I love; and I happen to like doing nice things for you. You deserve a clean space, hun.” 

He cleared off your previous bowl to reheat along with your empty water cup. Shaking the hollow straw inside to where it clinks, he knows exactly what you need and tells you so.

“You are getting a screenless break first, though. Something tells me you didn’t the first time around~”

Settled with a fist propping up your face, you swooned over this darling man. 

Trusting Autosave to have done its job, you shut the laptop down blindly, “Sure didn’t~” 

Izuku just rolled his eyes and stepped out of the study. 

You neaten up the collated stack of applications laid out by you and stepped over to the couch, taking a kneeling perch on the end while you sought out a new record for the player on the side table. Setting one on, it was able to fire up and fill some new life into the room with a movie score you haven’t listened to in a while. Everything just sounds better on vinyl.

When Izuku came back in the room, he’d found his houseshoes and returned with renewed interest to your music choice- and with a pleased expression seeing you actually lounging and taking things easier than how he found you. He traded your reheated meal in exchange for your blue-light glasses, which he’d then clean with a pocket square and set back on your desk once they were smudgeless.

“Now, that’s a better sight~ here you go, all set for later.”

You enjoyed Izuku’s company while finishing dinner, listening to him outline his workday while he cradled your legs in his lap. He'd had a pleasantly eventful one, with plenty to say about it. You’d play ‘two truths and a lie’ sometimes when he didn’t want to bore you with a particularly mind-numbing schedule, which pleased you just as well. You excelled at it, while he gave away his fictions every time- a terrible liar for the game, but great for a faithful partner, you reasoned.  You truly loved hearing him talk and talk, your love only growing at the domesticity of this feeling and never wanting that to change. 

Once you were done, you were honestly content to hear him continue his tangent, but it seems his inner discipline was stronger than yours. 

“Alright, now to attack that sink~”

You bemoaned again for his sake. But since you made such a small, affected noise, Izuku paused mid-rise, and sat back down a bit closer to you. He stretched an arm over the back of the couch, encouraging you to come closer and met you for a sweet kiss in the middle.

His mere presence reverted you to a younger self sometimes– one desperate for his attention, good or bad. It wasn't the loveliest impulse, but he clearly thinks it's all part of your charm seeing as he gives in every time, anyway.

“Thing is,” Izuku spoke softly while adoring the hand now placed in his, “If things keep going the way I think they’re going -the way I hope they’re going- it’s.. not hard to imagine that there’s gonna be both our dishes to clean up all the time. In our kitchen, in our home someday. So this is just practice, right? Seems perfectly normal to me. How it should be.”

That idea bloomed in your chest, the thought of sharing a home with him- where this exchange of chores and time together could be your new normal. Only it would be a future where he didn’t have to leave at the end of the night and go back to a bed with compact, collegiate-designed storage at the campus accommodations he stays in on the instructor's wing. He’s got enough to get him by, but he noticeably prefers your home here closer to downtown.

“And what happens when we both wanna ditch the dishes?” you countered sweetly.

Izuku smirked, “That’s what a dishwasher is for. Another thing we’d own together…”

“Forward thinking, there.” You relished that idea. 

Izuku nuzzled your forehead thoughtfully. 

“You’ve been doing things on your own for a long time– and it shows, sweetheart.”

His words came carefully, from a tender place spoken in confidence between you, referring to when you’ve spent other late nights like this one fueled with hot tea and a desire to keep ignoring the clock.

“And I know you’ve been used to that since you’ve been traveling so much, not even having roommates to help keep you company or lighten the load. I keep wishing I could have known you sooner, had more time with you before you had to learn some of those things the hard way… but I’m happy I get the chance to, now. I’m here now, and you’re not alone, so I hope you’ll let me take care of you when I can.”

With another happy sigh forcing your eyes shut, the mental will it took to not let the tears of a perpetual eldest daughter leave you was intense.

Izuku Midoriya never failed to hit the nail on the head when it came to pep talks; he does the same with his students. But why his ones aimed at you had to have a Full Cowling dash of heartfelt anecdotes in it, you don't know. But you're grateful. You're so grateful for him. 

“If you don’t quit talkin’ like that, Izuku, I will never let you leave this condo.”

He chuckled again, lifting your cheek for another kiss, “Twist my arm, love.”

Ultimately, he rose to quit distracting you, but not without you watching him leave with a hunger you’d never felt for another soul before. 

[centrally-unplanned]

IRL (In Real Life) - Buffydom Propaganda And The Internet-That-Was

It is 1997. You just got back from the latest Hot Topic run to restock on whatever the most raven-black bomb of Manic Panic they have on the shelves is, so you can do double-duty bleaching your hair in the shower while watching a CRT TV precariously mounted on the lip of your sink. On that TV is the Season 1 finale of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and you are obsessed. Unfortunately for you, no one else in Bowling Green, Ohio, shares your passion for a CW WB show about vampire hunting teens who purposefully fumble their line deliveries. You are alone, and you have shit you gotta say about it to someone, anyone, who will understand.

Fortunately for you, the marketing team at ye old WB anticipated that their audience would be a bunch of fucking nerds, and boy do they have a solution to your problem! Welcome to the Bronze:

A while back I stumbled upon the inexplicable existence of "IRL (In Real Life)", a 2007 documentary about the community that formed around the aforementioned Buffy fan discussion forum/chatboard. Officially running from around the launch of the show until it switched over to UPN after its fifth season (with the forum dying a dramatic death in the process), The Bronze was a highly active center for the Buffy fandom, which generated several spillovers into real life. In particular, it was famous for the creatives and even actors on the show occasionally posting on the forum, which culminated in members of the community organizing a yearly party in Los Angeles where posters would fly out and be joined by said cast and crew. This documentary charts its culture & history via interviewing an array of its members.

As always, I am not here to give the blow-by-blow; instead, what is the narrative this documentary is trying to sell?

My previous documentary write-up was about nerd culture in the 2010’s; newly ascendant, growing confident in its own values and looking to justify that to itself, wealthy and with a developed enough ecosystem for crowdfunding to create professional, polished documentaries of its own heroes. None of that is true for IRL. Filmed on whatever camcorder/potato hybrid proto-Ebay would cough up from its zero-bid listings in a series of hotel rooms and people’s living rooms in 2003-2004 after the forum had died, this is the era of nerd culture at its most conflicted and insecure; mocked by the mainstream and unsure if it should be proud of that fact or deeply ashamed of it. And this documentary wears this conflict right on its sleeve; one of its opening lines is a confident assurance to the audience of “don’t worry, we aren’t like those nerds”:

Throwing Trekkies under the bus in the process, cold! Particularly given how it proceeds to barely even blink before pivoting to explaining their hobby of running “WITTs”, multi-day-long collaborative roleplays:

You are exactly those Trekkies my dudes; you weren’t just at the devil’s sacrament you were hosting it! "WITT" stands for Whedon Improvisational Theatre Troupe, you can't recover from that guys.

(I love how “dozens” is large by the way - it was for the internet in 2001, right?)

Anyway, beyond documenting the forum and its members, the conclusion this documentary wants you to hold is that the Bronze was a special place of real community, and it is a community of “normal” people, who made real relationships. And in particular, that internet relationships can be just as real as those found in meatspace, that these relationships transcended the digital and entered the physical; and that this is what fandom can be about.

I want to start with the ways that narrative was correct within the context of the time. I can actually explain that Klingon comment! I have one extant interview with the director of the film, Stephanie Tuszynski, and she put her motivation as follows: 

FFN: What made you decide to study Buffy fandom, particularly the Bronze, for your documentary? ST: The idea to do a documentary film about the Bronze actually came to me very early on, because "Trekkies" came out in the late 1990s so I was already a Bronzer at that point. And when I saw it I started throwing things at my television. I was incensed. That wasn't a documentary about the fandom experience, it was "hey let's find the most extreme examples possible and have a freak show!" It infuriated me […] It reinforced every awful stereotype about media fans while purporting to be objective.

It wasn’t a random example - the 1997 documentary Trekkies set the “standard” view of fandom as extremist oddballs, and Tuszynski specifically wanted to counter that. It was the early 2000’s after all, nerd stereotypes were strong, you had to fight them explicitly! In a society where there is strong background hostility to one’s identity, you will attempt to normalize it using known reference points; and certainly the people on these forums were more “normal” than the stereotypes admitted to because that entire binary framework is a dead end.

More importantly to the narrative is the online aspect, “making friends on the internet”. Another find I have is a blog post from a professor who used the film in a class; and in the film’s narrative of “people with no one ‘irl’ to share their hobby with finding friends online” triggered a debate around if the online relationships are “taking away” from in-person relationships that are presumed to be more valuable. A debate that still rages to this day over social media! But the contours were different back then, the internet was presumed to be niche, ancillary, and relationships made online in a completely separate box from “in person” friendships. The documentary goes to great lengths to explain that they were a real community because that idea is so contested. Ironically, they do this by emphasizing that they met up in person, hung out, attended each other's weddings, etc; as if only by meeting up in person could the relationships be validated as real? But you can’t truly fault them for meeting their implicit critics halfway in making their case.

So what can I fault them for?

*****

I was perpetually amused when watching the doc that they included two married couples in the filming, and for both one of the spouses would talk and the other would sit there, in silence, the entire time. Maybe they were members of the community and just not talkers; maybe their lines got cut in post. But what I kept thinking was that they were there selling normality to me; married couples are just inherently less oddball, less threatening, and in the era where “nerd = virgin” just less nerdy. Like with the Klingon line, there is an intentionality to the “just like you” vibe.

Which, as mentioned with the extensive forum roleplay, inevitably breaks down once the reality of forum activity is dug into. And I buried the lede here - you may have seen the title of the “longest” roleplay was “RTBS Soul Restoration Project”, but what does that mean? RTBS was a forum member’s name, and well:

Oh yeah, we are saving our friend from “a fate worse than death: worshiping Britney Spears” - welcome to 2001 baby! This is peak “nerd wars” stuff, the normies hate our shit so we hate the normie shit right back. Which is exactly how nerd culture was in the 2000's. I am not at all throwing shade at their tongue-in-cheek roleplay, resplendent in the ludicrously purple prose and asterisk-laden action descriptions as required by the early internet; but it sits in clear tension with some of the other messaging in this film. Leave Britney alone guys!

The documentary highlights a number of common practices from the forum - people doing daily greetings, the way that it being one unending massive chain of posts with no threading or topics meant people would mass-tag individual people to respond to and form “circles” that way - but there are things it leaves out. I did what any normal person would do after watching this documentary and read through over a year of archived posts on The Bronze to understand the community - but man did I not have to, as on literally the first page of my archived link I see:

And through God’s good grace that second link is archived:

Yes there are pictures at the link, and yes later on it does compare Buffy’s cleavage to the Mona Lisa. (The Giles link is not quite functional, but I was able to find it; sadly it is not nearly as thirsty)

I also found these “onboarding” sites for new members. Remember, this forum was the official forum, which meant there were no community mods or ability to “pin rules”, it was pure anarchy - so advice filled the gaps. And one of the bigger ones, in its *sighs and rubs forehead* blue font on black background, warns against “hottie posting” aka talking about how hot say Angel is, not because it isn’t allowed, but because it is like “pointing out the sky is blue” - it is so common that it will just get washed out.

It might seem like a similarly sky-is-blue comment to note that this forum was heavily about shipping, hotness discussion, fanfiction, and the like. Of course it was, right? These website “senior members” were trying to minimize it, police it, but it broke through constantly and also simmered under the surface through discussions and RP’s from my own review of the forum. The documentary, however, spends incredibly little time on it. Brief mentions of Angel fics, and no mention (iirc) of discussion of how hot the women were at all. Because once again those details really don’t fit into the narrative it is trying to sell.

At one point in the documentary someone notes how diverse all the friends they met in this community were? Which I broke out laughing over. In one way it is not wrong, I get it! Midwest college kids meeting people from all over the country, ages 40 to 14, talking about something no one in their podunk town understands. But on the other hand, you could not come up with a more standardized slice of humanity if you tried to rig it. Everyone here is an American+ with computer access in 1998, it is a grab bag of sys admins, nerd creatives, and comp sci majors.  I did a random sampling googling the people interviewed to see what they are up to now, and literally a third of them are librarians. Even their fashion is like God played a prank on this director; not even a 2000’s anime con panel lineup is this stereotypical in the combinations of alt-goth lit girls and nerdcore computer bros.

The evolutionary process of joining this forum -> liking it enough to go to the live meetups -> liking that enough to participate in a documentary about it was a pressure cooker spitting out only a certain kind of person. Which is truly fascinating to see on display! This is the internet-that-was; and it bleeds through the grainy film despite the director’s efforts at times to the contrary.

Though even then it was only a very specific slice of the internet-that-was, because this is a very special breed of Online; namely, the professionals.

*****

Something that is decidedly not typical of The Bronze as an online community is that, as mentioned before, Joss Whedon and other creatives posted on the web forum, answering questions and also just playing around, and how that led to in-person parties where both forum members and cast/crew attended - the Posting Board Parties, or PBP’s. At these they hosted fundraisers, talked about the show, and in the documentary one girl reverently describes with incredible Repressed Lesbian Energy her experience of seeing Eliza Dushku dancing next to her. The PBP had a panel of party organizers, admission systems to keep out the “undesirables”, budgets, the works.

All this the documentary shares openly; it is a peak moment where the digital becomes real in a transcendent way, opening doors analog reality never could. It is also a cold-sweat-waking nightmare story from the lens of a modern Hollywood social media manager; one person in the documentary tells the tale of how one time lead actress Allyson Hannigan posted her phone number on the forum asking people to leave her cute voicemails. The person in question immediately called, and got Hannigan herself instead of the voicemail, so they chatted for a bit (The guy telling this tale is obviously lovestruck; his wife is sitting in typical silence next to him). Today this would be a code-red, nuke your phone situation; but the circle was so cloistered, and the rules so unwritten, that no one cared in these early years.

What they share less openly is all the drama that went into this event. They wax nostalgic about how the parties brought them together, but what isn’t mentioned is the church schism it caused, as the moment cast from the show started attending the party it got mobbed by outsiders. By its ~3rd year there were approximately 400 guests but only ~50 or so were from the forum. They had a huge fight about it, the head of PFP planning committee - “Morbius the Vampire”, who was later jailed for financial fraud btw - told the dissenting faction why don’t they just throw their own party if they hate his so much, and so they did. There was more fighting about it, and eventually they held a peace summit at an LA joint called Mel’s Diner to merge the two factions together. (My source for this is a book, which I will link later)

Hilarious, for sure, but while so much of what we have discussed is “proto online nerd communities”, this part is most decidedly not. The typical web forum absolutely cannot replicate the experience of roleplay-posting your way into shaking hands with Joss Whedon and having a shitfight over party budgets in LA. But most posters never got to attend these parties, of course, this didn’t mean much to them. While for those who did, you cannot help but imagine that this played a gigantic role in making them all become a “real” community. And care enough about that circle to, well after the forum was gone, schlep to a hotel room to be interviewed for a documentary about it. Participating in a documentary is always, in some way, an exercise in selection bias; but here the pruning is turned up to 11 - this is a very elite slice of a very unique fandom experience.

*****

I have one deeper level to go on this thread, somewhat buried in time today, that further shaped the participants here: “Whedon Studies”. The 2000’s was not the birth of media studies as an academic discipline; but it was the birth of fandom-driven media studies, and Buffy was nearly unassailably the leading light of that movement. Academics hosted entire conferences (and inexplicably still do!) on Buffy, Firefly, etc; almost all from the lens of gender & media, as Buffy’s brand was deeply entrenched in that deconstructive milieu. This movement would die a fiery death during the 2010’s shift in media & gender politics, and when the controversies around the toxic working conditions on the set of Buffy/Angel led to Joss Whedon’s near-total expulsion from creative pursuits. The whole edifice is, in a deep way, “cringe” for many of its former participants today.

But what is relevant for our story is that director Stephanie Tuszynski was a full member of that movement; while composing this film she was, for example, giving talks like these at conferences devoted to the Buffyverse:

God that is a lot of talks. This film itself was her thesis project for her I believe philosophy masters, and in our scant interviews lists other fandom-academic film projects she wanted to tackle (which as best I can tell fizzled out later). And the interview subjects were often participants in the same space as well! Academic-types doing media studies with a Buffy bent, or things like culture writers for new media outlets. One of them, writer Allyson Beatrice, even published a book about the Buffy fandom that was in regular bookstores:

To quote the blurb:

A hilarious collection of true stories from Allyson's days as one of the Internet's leading cult TV fan gurus, her mind-boggling escapades include meetings with network executives in dark steakhouses to try to save doomed TV shows and one hastily arranged wedding for two committed Buffy fans. 

I highlight this not to say that academics cannot make documentaries, they certainly can. What I am saying is that if you point your camera at career Buffyverse writer Allyson Beatrice, and label her as a typical forum member giving you the hometown everygirl perspective on the community, you are, however unintentionally, lying to your audience. In its quest to give you the just-like-me Buffy fandom experience, what this documentary elides is that it is often giving you the lens of people who are fans of Buffy as a career. Those people are going to be bringing very different experiences to the table - of course they are concerned with sanitization, with nerd culture debates, the works. That is their bread-and-butter trade.

This dynamic bled into the forum’s day-to-day; there was a very clear hierarchy of “veterans” and “top” posters, who organize the live parties, have deep roots in the community, and even the ear of the show team...and everyone else. Particularly because as mentioned there were no rules on the forum, but since that can’t actually function in practice they self-generated community rules and thus their own leadership class. Cliques and groups were common and named, and veteran posters even had formally designated groupies:

I had also by this time become a groupie. I so enjoyed one particular Bronzer’s posts that she allowed me to become the seventh of her groupies. It was through groupie-dom that I got my first taste of firsthand WITT: several Bronzers, on the occasion of the birthday of she-to-whom-we-group, each took turns grabbing the microphone and praising the day that she was born. In retrospect, I’m not sure why we did this. But it was fun, and very funny, too, as we each took turns waxing melodramatic off the top of our heads. And from work, no less.

The source for this by the way is a 400 page ethnography of The Bronze posted by academic who did *cough* “field research” there; I am sure their membership in the “Bronzers Adoring Darla” fangroup was purely for comprehensive data collection purposes.

And to emphasize, I am not saying this is problematic or anything - the groupie things were all in good fun, best I can tell. I simply aim to showcase how the Bronze wasn’t just a baby version of online fandom forum dynamics; but also a baby version of e-celebrity mechanics. Something the documentary does not even attempt to touch on because that would be something normal people would not understand.

*****

All of the above may have come off like one big roast, and it is a little bit, but as I have mentioned before every documentary is propaganda. It is just impossible to have a tight film building a narrative out of the pieces of letting people speak to the camera without that narrative being but a slice of the truth those people want you to know. The Bronze web forum was a very special place to these highly invested fans, and this documentary is not lying to you about that.

But it is also a big part of early internet fandom! The Bronze was famous at the time, and it is right there at the beginning of so many shifts; the first generation of non-technical internet users, a new era of ‘fantasy’ media with the trappings of prestige and social critique, a boom in critique-as-community, and more. I very much want the full picture of that community; who made it up, what did they want from it and what did they get from it, and so on. No film could offer the full picture; this film’s homebrew rawness gives a valuable piece of it, and I enjoyed it for that. I just aimed here to draw out not only what the broader, more accurate dynamics of The Bronze were, but also the cultural question of why the film focuses on what it does, hides what it refuses to show, and what that says about 2000’s internet & nerd culture. Hopefully I succeeded in that.

And also to have fun looking at some incredibly dated Buffy fandom bullshit. May it have been fun for you too! {hugs you and waves goodbye}

[ervotica]

pairing; lucien vanserra x fem!fae!reader

warnings; smut, 18+ only, p in v, dom!lucien, dirty talk🤤, lucien is a cocky bastard and we love him for it <3 in conclusion, i love him<3

lucien vanserra and his dirty fucking mouth.

he has you propped up against his chest, face smushed against the smooth dip of his neck and muscles turning to nothing more than putty beneath his knowledgable hands, hands that roam every inch of your skin, that palm at your bottom to spread your aching cunt further for him to sink into. you might as well be split in two for the way he's making you feel, speared open on the thick length of him, bare breasts pressed to the planes of hard muscle that make up his torso.

"feeling good, sweetheart?" the cocky bastard snarks, rolling a pert nipple between a thumb and forefinger when his hips cant up to sheath the last inch of himself in your soft walls. you nod vehemently, a shudder ripping through you, his teeth sinking into the juncture of your neck like a feral predator.

your body arches - toward or away from his touch, you're not sure - a high pitched keen clawing its way from your throat as calloused, ring-clad fingers splay over the base of your spine to draw your bareness to his own.

"luc-" you moan, reaching for breath when he digs a thumb to the hollow of your throat and presses down. a shiver of appreciation careens down the bond, spreading and seeping into your veins right up to the tips of your pointed ears. you feel yourself flush white-hot when his arm hooks around your neck to cage you against him. "more, please," you croak.

"is my little devil begging?" he teases but complies nonetheless, pistoning his hips once, twice, thrice until you're grappling for purchase against the smooth, hard ridges of his stomach, rocking yourself back against his cock when he pulls away even an inch.

you don't have it in yourself to protest as you usually would, a string of "yes, yes, oh yes," falling from your spit slick lips. his thumb presses against the swollen flesh of your bottom lip, a lazy smirk tilting his mouth up at the corners as you part your lips and allow him to slip the digit in further to press against your tongue.

"so easy to break," he muses, fingers clamping against the curve of your jaw when you suckle on his thumb; the sensation goes straight to his cock, doubling down when you gaze up at him through sticky, wet lashes, lids drooping in an effort to keep your eyes trained on him. the wet schlick as he ruts into your dripping heat has you going soft and limp, giving yourself to him as he tugs on the bond affectionately- a stark juxtaposition to the cruel hand twisting into your hair, baring your bruised throat to him. “beautiful. so beautiful taking my cock, sweetheart.”

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Special Episode I

Ralak’s First Rut

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.

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24)/(18) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19)

Warnings: nsfw, smut, fluff, profanity, age gap, rut cycle, knot play, praise kink, breeding kink, p in v, mating/bonding, knotting, multiple cumshots, creampie, let me know if I forgot anything?

Word Count: ??

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Cheers to the first special episode :) This is literally a mindfuck so bare with me! 🤍🤍

Synopsis: after mating with ralak, you settle into your new home. During some quality time together, you pop a rather… interesting question.

<;- Previous Next ->

It’s barely been a week since you’ve properly moved into Ralak’s marui pod. It’s big and spacious, perfect for two – or more – na’vi. Comfortable and cosy, built by your mate’s two hands, with his future mate and family in mind. It’s beautiful, truly. But it needed a bit more... love. Something Ralak likes to say that you would provide with ease.

Taught from a young age, a man must provide and protect his mate and their family. Wise elders engrained the truth within his being since it came into consciousness – the truth that a woman wields the power of creation. The ability to create something out of nothing and make anything tenfold better.

A house into a home. Fresh game into dinner. Seed into life.

It’s from this point of his life, that he craved a mate to provide for, to create the dreamlife he yearned to live. To give everything he had to that na’vi and watch it flourish.

And he’s finally found you.

—

Five nimble fingers work away at the woven trinkets you plan to garnish the bent wooden frame of your marui with. Slender digits quicken as they tuck the coruscant shells into the twine, pulling it taut as you double knot it. It’s the one thing you taught him, the Omaticaya are known for their skilled weaving and sewing techniques - passed down by the ancestors themselves.  

He watches intently, brows twitching as he tries to follow your movements with his own thickset fingers. He’s always had a hard time with this sort of task, often resorting to the lengthy wooden needle and thinly twisted twine to fasten whatever you needed him to. He heaves a heavy sigh, letting his frustration get the best of him as he grabs the wooden needle.

Breaking his façade of indifference.

It’s silly really. You’re mated before Eywa herself, sitting together as you weave and see in your shared marui, and yet he still feels the need to express as little emotion as na’vi-ly possible. You look up to see his nose scrunch and lips pull together, the same face he made when you fell off your ilu for the tenth time. The memory has you giggling before you become aware of the sounds coming from your mouth.

It earns you a pair of beady eyes, drilling into your innermost being. It’s good to know that the teasing hasn’t stopped, even after marriage. Your giggle increases in bass, quickly turning into a chuckle. It’s infectious, spreading to his own lips to make them curl in the slightest way possible, just enough to make him look down at the way his fingers fiddle to thread the eye of the needle.

Blood rushes to his face, staining it a tinge of pink. His flushed cheeks and flustered appearance have the gears in your head grinding twice as hard, fabricating images of what he’d look like in his most primal state. All hot and heavy, chest heaving harshly from how hard he’s breathing. Is it this? Is this what he looks like when he’s in –

“Ma’ Lak.” The words slide off your tongue like nectar, sweet and thick with arousal. It urges him to look away from his task, gaze slowly trailing up your petite, dark blue body.

“…What was your first rut like?” You ask innocently.

Ralak cocks a brow, quickly dropping his head once more to hide his growing smirk. He happily puts down the needle, unfazed by your out-the-blue question and shuffles to his feet whilst offering his hand. Dainty fingers wrap around his wrist, holding on tightly as he pulls you to your feet and walks you over to the bed. He reaches behind him, gripping the base of his kuru to stroke its length and bring it over his shoulder.

“Why don’t I show you?” Ralak asks, exposing his dancing tendrils before your eyes.

Of course, the man of few words would prefer to show you rather than tell you. Not that you were complaining or anything. He’s choosing to let you in, to show you one of the most intimate moments of his life. A moment where he was most vulnerable.

You nod, quickly pulling your queue forth, revealing your dancing tendrils too. Hues of glowing lilac illuminate the space between you. Amber and azure orbs twinkle as they watch the tendrils find one another, intertwining as they come together with a quick tug. Your head flies back, pupils blowing until nothing but thin amber rings remain, breath hitching whilst your bodies synchronize entirely.

Your vision blurs until all you can see is white, and the high-pitched ringing noise in your ears drowns out the sounds of the waves crashing into the shore. Soon, you’re no longer in your marui, as the white fades out into various shades of grey. The ringing dissipates into a low, husky voice, reverberating in the background.

My tanhì. Are you there?

You can see beige and grey blobs, splitting into two and drifting apart. You can hear faint indistinguishable echoes, something like a cry, or a whine. Cool water splashes at your feet, making you rub your eyes to unblur your vision. You open your eyes, witnessing the blobs merge together and unblur into large-rocks, and pointed stalagmites.  

Our cave?

You hear the faint, breathy chuckle of your mate. Yes. Our cave. I was... frightened. Came here to cool down with a bath. See?

An invisible hand gently tugs at your chin, pulling your head to the left. You see young Ralak, short haired and bare skinned, leaning against the cave wall. His ears are tucked back, lying flat against his skull as a few strands of hair dangle in front of his face, beet-red with beads of sweat dripping down his temples. The droplets crash onto his bare chest which is heaving wildly from his laboured breathing.

His less sinewy body shudders, face contorting from pain and discomfort as his shaky hands glide down his stomach to find purchase on the band of his loincloth. Hooking his thumbs underneath the twine, he shimmies it down his thighs, revealing his naked pelvis. It’s strange seeing his unscarred, uncalloused skin, bare without charcoal inking.

Huffing and puffing, he stomps his feet to unplaster the sopping cloth stuck to his thighs. A gruff grunt of frustration vibrates in his throat, hands flying to the base of his tail to extricate himself from the constraints of his taut tewng [loincloth]. He’s struggling. Floundering around as if he wanted to step out his own skin.

Your heart sinks at the sight. You want to help him. Make the pain go away. You know it all too well. To feel out of control and confused, dazed, and flustered from the actual heat brewing in your core. But all you can do is watch him from a far as he squirms against the cave wall, panic-stricken eyes growing lidded and heavy.

I had a hard time understanding what was happening. Much like you.

Young Ralak finally unfetters the knot, loincloth unpeeling from his clammy skin. He sighs a breath of relief.  Finally free from his restraints, his painfully hard cock springs up, veiny and throbbing from his intense arousal. It’s almost red, mushroomy tip bulging and swollen with a thick, lengthy string of glossy precum leaking from his slit. It hangs freely in the air, swinging side to side as his cock jumps to the pulse of his heart. The swaying rope of slick finally catches along his length and begins to drip down to his – oh?

Is that your –

My knot. I was surprised to see it, too.

It’s huge. This is the first time that you’re seeing it up front. Sure, you’ve felt it before. Fuck, you even wanted to take it during your real first time – but you’ve never seen it like this.

“Tewti [whoa; wow].” Young Ralak mumbles, lidded eyes widening once they land on the sight of his knot emerging for the first time. It’s bulbous and veiny, pulsing madly as it continues to swell. A breathy moan parts his lips as a curious hand reaches for it, eager to find out how it feels. Slickened from his precum, his fingers glide over it easily, feeling the bump of each vein. His hips buck from his own touch, cock thrusting into nothingness.

Your thighs rub together at the sight. You’d never seen him this turned on before. Not even on the night of your iknimaya. And honestly, neither has he. He’s shocked to see himself so red and swollen, throbbing from how painfully hard he is. He stares at himself in awe, watching his hips stutter and squirming by themselves.

He’d never been inclined to touch himself in this way, not even in the early mornings when he was at his biggest. He would just wait for it to go down and if it was ever too overwhelming, he would come here for a quick bath. But the bath isn’t working today. It’s just too humid and hot for only water to cool down with.

Flustered, he gives into his impulses.

Webbed hand gripping his knot, he strokes upwards, cupping his pulsing tip as it oozes slick over the back of his hand. His head dips back, jaw clenched tightly as his hips stutter, palm of his hand now rubbing on the most tender part of his cockhead. He’s so sensitive – so innocent – like a single thrust of his hips would make his inflamed tip... erupt.

Oh, fuck. You shift your weight from one foot to the other - anything for a little friction.

His cock throbs madly, thick strings of his sticky seed spurting out his slit, an orgasm so powerful he can’t bite back the lengthy, pained whimper coming from his mouth. He looks down, feeling something warm on his stomach. Surprised, he let’s go of himself, staring at the thick bead of white liquid rolling between his abs.

“Oh – Oh Eywa.” He exhales wobbly, trembling hand hovering over his tender and raw cock. He’s so afraid to touch it again. But he wants to. He needs to. He just can’t help himself. All he wants to do is hump away at something – anything.

Anything to get rid of this feeling. The feeling of pure, unrefined frustration, engrained deep in his most inner being. As more time passes, he succumbs to his most primitive self, plunging under the thick, hazy trance of his rut. He grabs a hold of his aching cock, stroking it at the pace his stammering hips set for him. His head slumps back into the wall, chin pointing towards the cave’s roof as he lets loose needy, broken whines into the air.

His eyes squeeze shut, brows knotting together to focus on that gnawing feeling deep in his core. In a split second his whimpers morph into deep, guttural groans, white milky essence spilling from his tip, over his hand and onto his tensed stomach. His eyes pop open, mouth hanging agape as he sucks in a quick, shaky breath of air.

Tears well in his eyes, glossing them over with want and desperation. The blush on his cheeks spreads over the bridge of his nose, breath so hot you could practically see it. He pulls away his hand, exposing his cock, thumping madly as beads of cum roll down his shaft. It’s even harder now, so fucking hard that it strains, pulling his skin so taut that its outright painful. 

He fully slumps back against the wall, snapping his hips back to get rid of the intense stretching feeling. He almost caves in on himself, desperate for release. For relief. He begins panting – heavily. Trembling lungs making it hard to catch a full breath, he feels his head spin. Finally, the tears roll down his cheeks. Tears of torment.

The first tears you’ve ever seen fall from his face.

This is what you’ve been going through? All alone? For six years?

Yes. Ralak didn’t seem to be embarrassed by you seeing this at all. In fact, it feels as if he’s... enjoying it. Not necessarily enjoying watching himself suffer, but watching you squirm around trying to deny your own arousal.

Young Ralak slides down the rough wall, finding support on a small ledge near the bank of the lake. He swallows the saliva pooling in his cheeks, trembling hand slowly making its way back down to his aching cock all on its own. He grits his teeth as the pads of his fingers graze his chafed skin. He’s so rubbed out and raw that he whines at the sensation.

It’s like stones in your heart, clunking around as your breath quickens. You feel so helpless, so frustrated, unable to do anything to relieve your mate’s pain, albeit a memory. “Ralak.” You blurt out, surprised to hear your own voice in this hazy reverie.

What shocks you more is when he snaps his head towards you, acknowledging your presence with his delirious, inebriated eyes. You never even knew something like this was possible. You knew you could visit memories, just like you would when plugging in to the spirit tree. But to be involved and interact with them is hard to wrap your head around.

You test the waters a little more, and approach him cautiously, hands splayed out in front of you to show that you have no ill intentions. He watches you move towards him, irises flickering between his usual azure blue to a shade of mauve. You can tell he’s uncertain, just by the way he tries to retreat further into the wall with hand practically plastered to his cock.

“W-Who are y-you?” His voice is wobbly and hoarse.

Tanhì. You ignore Ralak’s warning echoing in your mind and continue moving toward his younger self.

“I am... your mate.” You say in a calming voice.

“M-mate?” He can barely get the word out when a wave of heat ripples through him, making his face red and screw with discomfort. “What’s – ngh, w-what’s happening to m-me?” He panics, bottom lip quivering.

“You’re in rut.” You say quietly, hand extending experimentally, your fingertips brush against his clammy thigh.

I can feel you, Ralak. So maybe I can help you.

His freckles blink from your touch, ears hugging his skull as closely as they can. You can hear the faint chitter of his teeth, jaw clenching and unclenching as he tries to put a stop to it. He’s panting so heavily – so quickly that soon he’s hyperventilating, about to lose it.

“Hey. Hey. Breathe. It’s alright. You’re okay.” You try to reassure him in a soothing voice, resting your hand gently on his thigh. “I – I can help you... if you want me to… I know how you’re feeling.”

Tahni. Ralaks stern voice booms in your head, but you continue to ignore him. You couldn’t take it anymore – watching him suffer in this way, even if it’s just a memory. The thought of him going through this alone for six years of his life makes your heart turn in on itself. Besides, you know that he can always pull you out of this daydream with a simple tug at your kurus.  

“It hurts... ssst – why does it, w-why?” He mewls breathily, hand reflexively stroking his length, knot to tip.

Your hand slides up his thigh and over his hand, stopping his eager movements. “I have something better. Something that will get rid of the pain.” You say breathily, nodding your head a bit. “B-But only if you want it.”

Young Ralak nods frantically, allowing you to guide his hands to your waist. His innocent, frightened eyes snap up to yours, making their final flicker to a beautiful mauve as they silently beg for reassurance.

“Don’t be scared. I’m right here. You’re going to be alright.” You croon at him, making your way between his legs as you untie the knot of your soddened loincloth.

You’re going to hurt yourself, y/n. Another warning.

Always so worried about me, and never yourself.

Once your loincloth drops to your knees the scent of your arousal fills the air, driving young Ralak into the thick of his rut. His pupils thin to slits and his fingertips sink into your waist, pulling you into him. Your hands slump into his chest, before sliding up to wrap around his neck for support as you mount your younger mate.

You’re squatting over him, knees pressing against either side of your breasts as you position his cock between your slickened folds. Greedy hands explore your body, gliding up and down your back before gripping your hips to move them up and down his length. He groans, closing his eyes to savour the feeling of something so soft and wet rubbing against him.

Putting pressure on your heels, you slide your slit up to his tip, shifting your hips downwards to position him at your entrance. His cock, desperate to sink itself into anything, goes into a thrusting frenzy once it feels your soft opening. He digs his nails into your skin as he forces you down onto him in one hard thrust. You hide your face in the crook of his neck in hopes to muffle the loud, pained groan falling from your lips.

You can feel every inch of him, just as you would if this were all real. Every vein. Every bump. Every throb. Once you look back at him, you’re met with frightened, innocent eyes, worried that he just hurt you. You smile wobbly, moving your hands to cup his jawbone. “I’m okay. Shh – it’s okay.”

“’m sorry.” He huffs, furrowed brows pinching even tighter as he thrusts into you, jamming his swollen cockhead into your cervix repeatedly. “s-so sorry.”

You rest your forehead against his, looking each other deep in the eyes as he ruts into you like an animal. His thrusts have no rhythm, hips stuttering at an unpredictable, broken pace. His noises are bestial and primal, whimpering and whining as he struggles to move properly.

“Oh, ma ‘Lak. Don’t b-be. jus’ want y-you to feel be-better.” Your voice bounces, hand reaching behind you to press down on his thigh to stop his movements all together. His hips come to a halt, with the occasional unintentional buck, hand caressing his thigh for a bit until he calms down fully.

“Easy, take it easy. Like this” Your hand slides up his thigh, slender fingers gripping the side of his hip to slowly pull him forward. His hips jerk forward on impulse, ramming his head back into your sore cervix. “Agh! A little – a little more gently.” You let out a sweet little cry, pushing his hips away from you.

His breath deepens so much that you can hear it – chest heaving so harshly his shoulders are visibly rising and falling. “S-sorry. Sorry.” He buries his hot face into your chest as he apologizes continually, trying to control the jerk of his hips. His arms wrap tightly around your waist to pull you in for a closer embrace.

Finally, he sinks into you slowly, completely bottoming out in your cunt until his knot kisses the softness of your slit. It’s so sensitive and neglected that he grimaces into your soft breasts, pulling away as he sucks in a quick breath of air with a ‘sss’. You look down to see his brows pinched, lips slightly parted and eyes screwed tightly shut.

He’s having such a hard time – struggling to breathe, struggling to control himself, struggling to be gentle. You can see the glister of the tears seeping from the corners of his eyes and oh – how that makes your heart throb. “Good boy. Doing such a good job, you know that?” You coo with trembling lungs, pulling his head back into you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

You hold him close, cradling him like a baby, cooing in his ear about how well he’s doing. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Just listen to your body.” Your voice quavers as you repeat his own signature words back to him. “Do what you need. Okay?”

He lets out a weak grunt, tightening his hold around you while he snaps his hips back. You can feel every vein and ridge against your gummy walls as he pulls out, and when he sinks himself back in you swear you can feel his swollen knot poking at your entrance. Again. And again. And again. And soon he quickens his broken pace, pounding into you so hard it feels like it may pop in at any second.

Heart slamming violently between your ribs, you tighten your grip around him as you prepare to be knotted for the first time. His lewd noises increase in volume and bass and soon he’s groaning gutturally as his frenzied thrusts become short and deep. So fucking deep that you can’t help but let out a pathetic little whimper when he pushes past the resistance in attempts to shove his fat knot inside you.

And that’s when you feel it.

“It’s happening. Haa – ah! Ha-ppening.” He groans suddenly, grinding even harder into you.

“Let it - haah- happen. Go on, there you go.” You pant, feeling his thick cock pulsate inside you, spurting ropes of his hot, sticky cum in your womb, filling you up until you feel heavy and oh-so-fucking full. It’s so much, it’s overflowing, excess seeping out to dribble down his knot. He’s allows a soft ‘ngh’ to fall from his lips with every pulse of his cock.

He continues to roll his hips into you, a little scared by his body’s impulsive, greedy movements. But he can’t help it, the way his body is screaming to shove this growing bulge inside your tight, little hole. He’s whimpering, at war with himself as he tries his best not to knot you.

Tanhì!

“Don’t fight it. Do it!” You cry out a high-pitched moan, grinding into immense pressure between your legs. You can feel it work its way inside you, stretching you out so much that it burns. But you know this will make him feel better – make the pain go away. “Harder. Push h-harder.” You quiet down to an encouraging, shaky whisper. He’s pushing up into you and shoving you down by your hips at the same time, clenching his jaw from the way you’re pinching him.

Pop.

“Ngh!” It slips in with an audible squelch, burning sensation between your legs growing even hotter. And hotter. And hotter. And oh – fuck. It’s so hot it feels like a ring of fire surrounding his pulsating knot. It hurts – but it hurts so good. So good that your pussy walls flutter around him uncontrollably. “F-fuck!” You cry out, quickly coming to the realization that you’re cumming from the way his knot is burying itself inside you.

He holds onto you tightly as he continues to move inside you, tugging at you as you try to come down from your unexpected high. “W-wait – Ralak!” You whimper loudly, trying to follow his erratic movements. He’s whining from the overstimulation and the way you’re pinching around him; eyes flying wide open to reveal pure panic and guilt when he quickly understands that he’s hurting you.

Suddenly, your vision goes white as the ear-splitting ring pierces your eardrums and in a matter of seconds, you’re back in your shared marui. You open your eyes with an audible gasp to see Ralak peering up at you through furrowed brows. His gaze is almost predatory – piercing, and unflinching. His slumped shoulders rise and fall from how heavily he’s breathing, darkened, almost purple-y mauve irises flicking down to his taut loincloth – soaked with his thick cum.

“Oh, shit.” You breathe, unaware that he was feeling everything, too.

“Only I knot you.” Ralak growls.

A giggle bubbles up your throat, “Really Lak?Jealous? Of yourself?”

He grunts, displeased with your behaviour. “Do not taunt me, Tanhì.”

——

[prettiestofpisces]

Breanna Stewart x Reporter

💋: smut, fingering

-personally i wouldn’t know how to act if she looked like THAT around me

- i’m posting this on an airplane but autocorrect is always against me so if you see an error lmk ( ex. stewie turns to steve lolll)

-as always any and all feedback is appreciated…muah

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

standing up you fixed your pale blue blouse and tight black skirt, strutting through the libertys tunnel doors.

the new york liberty now stood at a new record of 17 wins, the number one best in the eastern conference.

questions cascaded your mind to ask the panelist, breanna stewart and jonquel jones yet none of them sounded good enough.

you practice with yourself still strutting down the empty stadium hallways.

“how did losing in the commissioners cup fuel the fire tonight to win by almost double digits?”

you scoff, kicking yourself at the originality…no.

“looking back at your previous loss to the lynx, what part of their game did you study coming into this one?”

this time a sigh exited your mouth.

hm a little better, but still no. you needed an obscure question for this post press.

you like to pose questions to athletes that bring out a side of them no one’s seen. whether it be excitement or vulnerability.

your companies sports articles offered rarity to sports news and discussed various, taboo topics, outside of ball.

wanting to impress your boss, this conference was to be no different and you needed a fun statement for this upcoming article.

as you entered the room voices could be heard everywhere. chatter was ambient, fellow reporters waiting patiently for the athletes to make their appearance.

looking around for a seat you find one in the front row off center to the left.

ten more minutes pass and suddenly complete silence takes over the room. shuffling in is breanna stewart and jonquel jones.

amungst the tallest in the meeting their prescence is almost intimidating.

sitting down right in front of you is stewart who’s expressionless. that is till her large dull eyes connect with yours and somehow it feels like it’s just you and her.

the two of you were fimiliar with each other, performing interviews here and there, but a true discussion was never held.

you take a deep breath looking around the room once more, and the press conference begins.

after thirty minutes or so the mediator announces.

“yes, final question coming from the front row, satin blouse.”

painfully boring questions had been thrown at them both left and right, now, finally it was your turn to do the talking.

you wiggle in your seat and inflate your chest to instill confidence. first introducing yourself and your company you lock eyes with breanna for a countless time and speak.

“…after a tough win, stewart i see you’ve changed into something more comfortable…” you look stewie up and down.

she he wore black sweat pants and a wife beater so tight her nipples, hard as ever, poked through perfectly.

“…fitting since you recently released new lounge wear to go with your new shoes color way. is it everything you envisioned and where is your brand going?”

stewie takes her hands and drags her palms down her chest and chuckles.

“yea it uh- doesn’t leave much to the imagination now does it” smirking directly at you.

“no, it doesn’t” shaking your head, you biting your bottom lip seductively.

jj takes notice of your flirtatious encounter, deciding to interject. “man if y’all don’t get a room or answer the question, we trying to get out of here!” stewie whips her head to her teammate laughing with her hands on her face.

“sorry…yea no the collection is called city of love and i’ve been dying to talk about it so thank you that’s a great question.”

stewie finishes up her statement as she watches you finish up your notes and record her the rest of her statement.

“alright, if that’s it we’re all free to go” the woman over the conference says.

breanna and jonquel thank everyone who attended and you place everything in its designated area in your purse.

feeling eyes on you, you take one more look around the entire room catching stewies bolted on your skirt.

you glance down and rush to pull down the fabric that had bunched exposing more of your bottom half than you’d like.

walking over to the exit where stewie stood you place yourself right infront of her. standing tall to her ear and whisper a quick message, “stop being a pervert.”

not taking another look at you she rubs her face with her hands as the other draped her side.

you roll your eyes and walk out into another empty hallway.

on your trek to leave the stadium you gaped, appreciating the structure now that it was almost vacant.

all that could be heard were the clicks of you heels against the tiled floor.

while nearing the exit, the ache in the balls of your feet were enough to need to sit down for a quick minute.

spotting some bar chairs you throw your purse and the rest of your belongings on the table before deciding to take a seat.

relief infiltrating your body, especially your feet.

kicking your heels off you huff “jesus christ.”

suddenly hearing footsteps behind where you sat, you can’t help but to turn your head.

the women behind you catching your eye, rightfully so. still in her lightly worn wife beater and sweats, breanna stewart appeared.

she took it upon herself to sit at your table and you watched as she did so.

“figured you could use some company.”

“i don’t but you’re welcome to sit..” you joke.

“ouch” she laughs.

there’s a pause of silence with you both looking at one another.

“you uh- with someone, single?” breanna blurts.

“what- who’s asking?” the questions catching you by surprise.

breanna points at herself signaling she wants to know, and in the blink of an eye she’s standing, towering above you in your chair.

you waste no time to stand up yourself as two can play that game.

“is there an issue stewart?”

you put a finger in her chest, pushing breanna outwards.

“you tell me” she says snarkily.

“honey you’re the one looking up my skirt” you counter argue.

“who’s to say you didn’t do it on purpose?” stewie shrugs with a toothy grin.

“ugh please” your bickering coming to an end as you turn on your toes and slip your heels on to head out.

that is till stewie pushes you against one of the surrounding walls. flipping you around to then face her. “oh shit-“

stunned, she left you pinned, arms by your side.

stewies grin gone, she gets just centimeters from your face

“listen, honey, not a single word leaves these lips while we’re here”

your breath hitches “okay..” eager for breanna to do whatever she wants to you, you comply.

“thank you baby” she says beginning to kiss on your neck, each sloppier than the one before.

you lightly close you eyes and in mere minutes she trails the hand that was once pinning yours up and down your thigh.

lifting your left leg to cradle her waist she then brings the hand to the hem of your skirt toying with it before reaching under.

your mouth agape ready for her digits to explore your cunt. moans escape your lips as grunts escape stewies.

she pauses removing her hand from to skirt to simply hold your leg in place.

your eyes flutter open to reveal breanna studying you and your face, the dimly lit stadium behind her.

“what’s wrong?” you whine.

she shakes her head. “nothing, i just wanted to make sure you wanted to do this” letting your leg fall. her accent being so thick made your pussy throb all the more.

you nod you head. “yes, i want you right here, right fucking now, no one’s here this late.” the corners of your mouth pull upward.

breanna pulls you off the cold wall for just a moment only to slap your ass.

“stewart!” you giggle, once again liking how rough she was being with you.

she returns the smile, her gums showing.

“even if there wasn’t i know you’d like a crowd”

you playfully slap her chest. “who’s the pervert now” she teases.

ignoring her comment you eye breanna, shimming off your panties and reaching for her hand, yearning to be touched. you place her hand back on your hips as you hoisted your leg over breannas waist again. she does the rest pecking your ear, then your jaw.

gliding her hand over your clit you groan at the sensation. “stewie go faster, or put your fingers in me, now-.” stewie cuts you off with a demanding kiss. no longer wanting to hear the attitude you were giving her.

stewie continues to rub your clit in agonizingly slow circles.

feeling how slick your hole was, she then knew you were ready for her fingers, her long, slim fingers.

you drag out a load moan as she inserts not one but two, her middle and pointer.

pumping her fingers in and out of you, you become more and more vocal.

“shit”

“mm fuck, just like that!”

“stewie baby, i’m sooo close” tears running down your face.

you felt drunk, spiraling with how good your body felt, tingles radiated all over.

her two fingers sped up and she rubbed your clit vigorously with her thumb. the new friction sending you over the edge, orgasming.

the audible gasp and sloshing of your pussy’s juices were all breanna needed to come herself.

your knees buckled forcing you to collapse.

you would’ve hit the floor if breanna wasn’t there to catch and pull you in.

whimpering you regain your balance and embrace stewie in a hug, tired but in bliss.

she kisses your temple.

“you’re so beautiful”

with your head buried in her neck, stewie feels you smile against her pale skin. “you did so good for me”

the praise erupting butterflies in your stomach.

you finally look up her eyes glazing your face and the tear that stained your makeup.

you release from the hug, putting everything back in its place, your skirt, your hair and…

“you forgot something” stewie says, holding your underwear in front of her face

“oh- you’re sick” you say as she shoves them in the pocket of her sweats. you throw your head back in laughter.

“call me” she says nearing exit of the stadium.

you laughed “why so you can start a collection of my panties?!”

“exactly.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

breanna stewart i hope both sides of your pillow are cold