#and I think I want all of them in a line by rank on the sleeve

[frownyalfred]

damn everyone out here today to cause pain and angst eh?

How would all the bat kids react you think? Like here are these people who are their grandparents but only by virtue of being their Dads parents they've only ever heard of them through memories shared, and the portraits in the house etc but they're more familiar with their memorials than the people themselves; the Martha Wayne charity foundation; the Thomas Wayne wing(s) in the hospital; and the biggest one of all, the reason for Batman existing and thus what has shaped a big portion of their lives. Sure with some of the kids they may have done some form of vigilantism themselves in a world without Batman, but not at the same level and not to the extent that their lives have been shaped by it.

And now these people are real and tangible and not just a memory and idea anymore, and they're technically supposed to be grandma and grandad but they're younger than Dad. Their dad who they can see is pulling himself in tight, restricting and restraining and holding himself back from who he actually is. And no matter how happy Bruce is that they're alive the kids can see how it hurts him. And like it was talked about before w the Clark/Lois stuff would the kids close ranks? Bc despite any interpersonal issues or current fighting the batfamily is fiercely protective of their own, and Martha & Thomas are family, but at the same time they're not truly Family yet (?)

The very first thing I thought of actually was okay they get all the initial shock and reunions and identity verification over with and it's been a very long and taxing experience so everyone is heading to bed and they'll figure out what happen next in the morning. Except. Bruce probably sleeps in the master bedroom, why wouldn't he at this point? And the manor has more than enough rooms for everyone but how do you even go about that discussion? It's Martha and Thomas's room but also it hasn't been for decades. Do you have your newly resurrected parents sleep in their familiar and yet completely unfamiliar room the first night back? If they say a guest room is fine should you as their son insist that they have their room that's been yours for decades now back? Does this cross anyone's minds before they all decide to head to bed and Bruce and T&M all go to the same room?

OOOOOF. Okay yeah, kind of in line with the cheating fic — I kind of want to write a fic now where Martha and Thomas come back and it ISN’T all sunshine and tearful reunions. It’s awkward and defensive and ultimately unsustainable.

Because where do you go from there? With Bruce holding himself back, the batkids closing ranks, and Alfred awkwardly trying to mediate Martha and Thomas who are becoming increasingly suspicious and confused? Maybe they don’t agree with this new Gotham. Maybe they’re even disappointed, something that would probably cripple Bruce even just temporarily.

#asks #thanks for jumping in and increasing the pain lmao #bruce wayne #batman #dc #batfamily

[theresattrpgforthat]

Any games about cross-country racing or just racing in general? I've had this setting with this grand race for riders of fantasy creatures and its rough trying to find a game that fits it.

THEME: Racing Games.

Hello friend, so I have some good news and some bad news for you. The good news is that I found a number of racing games! The bad news is that all of the games I found are built with the expectation that you are racing machines, not creatures. I don’t think that makes these games completely non-viable, but pretty much all of them will probably need a little bit of re-wording or hacking in order to become games about racing living things.

SUPERSTARS Racing Icons, by Tristan B Willis.

The air screams around your helmet as you hurtle past the final turn and towards the finish line. Your best friend looks to make a pass that could take both of you out. Do you play it safe and risk losing, or play for glory and risk everything? 

Welcome to Superstars: Racing Icons.

Trophies are nice, but racing careers are short and you’re here to build something that lasts. Is that a rabid group of loyal fans who follow your every move? A list of sponsors willing to keep you comfortable long after your racing days? Or just one meaningful connection with a teammate, a rival, a friend, a lover? 

The designers expect you to translate this game into a setting that works for you, but plenty of the language expects elements like sponsors, a PR team, and vehicle terminology. The game is GM-less and comes with a menu of backgrounds, which define your character’s narrative role in the race.

Because Superstars is a Firebrands game, instead of freeform play the group instead moves through a series of scenes, embodied through various mini-games. This means that this game is well-built for telling some kinds of stories, but not others. Much of the game is about the tension between the riders; the races are simply methods through which you can explore that tension.

If you want a game that is focused on the spectacle of the race as much as it is on the race itself, you might want to take a look at Superstars: Racing Icons.

Speedway Showdown, by Bammax Games.

Speedway Showdown is an ultralight, GMless minigame for two players that aims to quench your need for speed! Built on Cezar Capacle's Push SRD, Speedway Showdown begs you to put the pedal to the metal and take risks to walk away with the glory. Take a single turn on the tracks and reap a lone victory, or form your own circuit with your friends and race for the top of the ranks!

This is a business card rpg, so it’s very simple and therefore probably pretty easy to hack. Instead of damage to your car, your creature might get wounded or spooked, and you can replace mechanical benefits to reasons why your creature might suddenly get a boost of speed. This is also GM-less, so everyone can throw their hat in the ring for the title!

The game is probably going to be over pretty quickly, since there’s not much to it, so this would be a good set of rules to couch within a larger game.

Ghost Kart Racers, by kumada1.

Lord Aoyama was your master. He wronged you and killed you, but in doing so he made two mistakes.

He angered your spirit.

And he left an unsecured motor-kart in his stable.

Ghost Kart Racing is a 20 page supernatural racing trpg in which you shred rubber, use power-ups, and unhinge your entire face to devour the man who wronged you.

This is a multiplayer game that relies on different sided dice to represent your Kart (or perhaps, in your case, your Steed). You take turns flicking your dice towards a finish line, with the goal of hitting it exactly, with falling short being considered just as bad as overshooting. The game also comes with extras for customizing your racers, creating custom tracks, and adding Charms that change how your vehicles work.

I think the rules for this game can definitely be separated from the story that the designer has introduced, and the idea of having different steeds with different strengths may make sense if each racer is riding a different creatures. You could re-tool the charms into abilities that different fantasy creatures might have, such as a glowing body part or the ability to jump over low obstacles. The game also has optional skills that represent your character’s abilities outside of racing, which you could change to reflect what your characters might need to be good at when they’re not out on the race track.

Dirt Eaters and Grid Beef, by e.a.

DIRT EATERS is a dice game where players compete to see who can get the best score driving their cars through dangerous tracks! Players build the tracks through dice rolls, ranking each sector on a scale from 1-5. Rolling six sided dice, players have to get a number of successes equal to the difficulty of each sector to score a point. The more dice you use, the harder you're driving, and the more damage your car takes! Replenish your dice by 'repairing' your car between stages. It's a game of resource management, strategy, and a little bit of luck!

GRID BEEF is a roleplaying game about racing. In this game, players will be racing cars against one another in a series of events across the world. In between races, they'll form friendships, clash with bitter rivals, and be submerged in the world of politics and drama that comes with racing at a world championship level. Sometimes, the biggest drama happens off the track!

Both of these games follow the same core mechanic, in which a number of d6’s are rolled and the results over a certain number are counted as successes. While DIRT EATERS focuses on damage and hazards, GRID BEEF is more about the relationships between the racers, and how you interact with people affect your performance on the track. I think the core rules can work on their own, and the outside elements are examples on what can affect the race depending on what is important to you. In both cases, there’s probably a good amount of hacking and home-brew that you’ll have to do, but the benefit of looking at both of these is that you can see examples of how the core game can be re-tooled to focus on elements that matter to you.

Love by the Quarter Mile, by Dice Monkey.

Rev your engine and prepare to fire the NOS. In Love by the Quarter-Mile, you play as a street racer trying to make it while fighting for family. This one-page tabletop RPG is quick and dirty, providing you with everything you need to use to play games in the same vein as Fast and Furious and Gone in 60 Seconds.

This is another short game that I think can be very easily hacked to turn this game into a game about racing animals, rather than racing cars. You can replace the car tags with animal tags to differentiate the creatures that you are riding. However, being fast isn’t the only asset you have here - the game is also about fighting and personal relationships. You can fight rivals or other characters, and the rules are loose enough that you could use fists, or weapons that match your setting. You can also have arguments that can tax your emotions, so if there are personal stakes in the competition, you can enjoy some hair-raising drama in between each race.

Also Check Out

Gravity RIP, by lukewestaway.

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #game recommendations #dnd #asks #racing

[abrisaber]

Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss Rant Again Again Again

It's about time I made another unnecessarily long post about HB!

It's been a few months since the release of Hazbin Hotel and I've watched it a couple of times alongside Helluva Boss. With the newest episode of HB right around the corner, I thought I'd make a post so I can rant about things that I like and dislike about both shows. This is technically a criticism and it will definitely be negative at some points, but let it be known that I love both Hazbin and Helluva and even though I have my preferences, I still appreciate and enjoy the effort and soul put into both shows regardless.

The World building.

World Building is my favorite thing about any creative media. All of my favorite shows put a lot of dedication into fleshing out the environments for which their characters live in. And, in my opinion, any fantasy media should put some emphasis on World Building for it to be worthwhile.

In the Helleverse or the Vivzieverse or whatever the fuck you call the two shows, the WB is kinda mixed. I will admit that my bais towards WB over something like character development and theme, which are both things that HB and HH emphasize, does cause my opinion of the two shows to skew, but there are flaws that exist within both shows that can't go ignored outside of my own personal bias.

Despite my own preferences, there are things that should be addressed in both shows in terms of the world building that isn't, and I don't think it ever will because of the fact that Hazbin and Helluva are character driven. But when you have Hazbin focusing on something that would drastically change the climate and culture of hell (the exterminations), it's only logical that those things would ripple into Helluva. For example; the potential conflict between Heaven and Helluva Boss.

Maybe this will happen in the future, but I doubt it since Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel seem to exist entirely separate from each other. If that is the case then IMP's existence should would directly conflict with Heaven's desire to protect humans.

If IMP is popular enough for demons in other rings to know about their existence, and for Sinners to be lining up down the block looking for a good deal, then why wouldn't Heaven know about it? And if they do know about it, why wouldn't they have done anything? If Heaven wants to keep demons at controllable and suppressed numbers, then how would some demons have access to the living world at all?

Stolas says in "Oops" That Asmodeus's demons (Succubi and Incubi I suppose) are able to access Earth freely and *legally.* Why would someone like Asmodeus, a person who exists one rank underneath Lucifer and is one of Hell's main sovereigns, be able to let his demons do anything on Earth? Succubi are literally bread to intice humans to sin. They have mating calls that make humans want to fuck them. Why would Heaven allow that, if they even know about that. Because if they do then the idea of Heaven wanting to suppress hell is complete bullshit, and if they don't then Heaven sucks at their job.

The Good and The Bad

Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel are both decent shows, but Hazbin Hotel severely outdoes Helluva in several areas. I don't want to be that guy and say "Hazbin is soo much better than Helluva" because I don't really think they're unequal in terms of quality overall, but there are things that can't be ignored about both shows.

For starters, Helluva Boss has no idea what kind of show it wants to be. It started out fairly comedic and lighthearted with some elements of drama, specifically with Blitzo and his relationships, and then it slowly tried to push more and more drama into it to please the overwhelming number of people who are obsessed with the relationships of these characters. The episodes got longer and suddenly we're giving characters arcs that have only had 2 major episodes total (Yes I'm talking about Fizzarolli).

I don't hate the drama in Helluva Boss. In fact I think Truth Seekers, Ozzie's, and Loo Loo Land are the two best episodes in the show because they can balance the comedy and the drama well.

For example, I'll compare Loo Loo Land and the S2 Mid-Special.

In Loo Loo Land the relationship between Octavia and her parents is introduced. Even though this is only the second episode in the series and the first time we're seeing Octavia, the episode is capable of being comedic while also showcasing; A) How much of a failure Stolas is as a father despite his best efforts, B) How his blatant, obvious flirting with Blitzo despite being married to Octavia's mother bothers Octavia, and C) How my Stolas cares about his daughter and how the relationship between him and Stella has never been positive despite Octavia's perspective.

In comparison, Oops has Fizzarolli, a character who only had one major episode that was directly before this one. Even though it does the same "starting and finishing a conflict within one episode" thing that Loo Loo Land did, Loo Loo Land never tried to be a full on character arc. The Mid-Musical tries to have this big spectical moment where Fizzarolli is getting rid of his shitty boss and coming out as Asmodeus's partner, but we hardly know Fizzarolli and Asmodeus. We're seeing all these feelings of inadequacy and the need to feel good enough for Asmodeus but we barely even know Fizzarolli as a character. Outside of being the funny jester, the cute Imp boyfriend of the demon king Asmodeus, and one of Blitzo's childhood friends turned enemies, we don't know anything about him. We don't know his hobbies, what his life was like after the fire and before he met Asmodeus, we don't know anything.

The previous episode showed NO effort in showcasing that Fizzarolli feels "inadequate" and wants to prove himself to Asmodeus. Their relationship was seen as the most healthy in all of Hell. Yet come the VERY next episode, suddenly he feels like he's not good enough?

I like this episode and I like Fizzarolli, but in the previous episode he did not feel THIS important. Blitzo was really the one I found paying the most attention to because he's the main character and he's the one who's being accused of maliciously disfiguring Fizz out of jealousy. This episode revealed how he got his scars and what happened to his mother.

Why is Fizzarolli the one getting so much focus when he's a glorified tertiary antagonist?

Hazbin Hotel is capable of doing drama well because that's what it's trying to be. In the first episode they outline the conflict and showcase both sides of the series firsthand. Angel Dust is set up to be a tragic character within the context of the show. His abusive relationship with Valentino doesn't come out of nowhere because they show Valentino's toxic behavior towards Angel Dust as early as Episode 2.

Angel Dust is just one example. There are plenty of others.

It's not like Hazbin Hotel isn't guilty of doing the same thing either. Characters like Carmila Carmine get important emotional episodes despite no previous showcase of this character conflict existing.

In Conclusion,

I like Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss, but now that both shows are being developed at the same time, I hope that Vivziepop takes more into account since both shows exist in the same universe. There's more I want to say but this post is already ridiculously long. I want to know other people's thoughts as well. Please reply or reblog with anything else you'd like to add or like to counteract! I like to discuss things!

#helluva boss #Hazbin Hotel #vivziepop #discussion #helluva boss critical

[heartorbit]

always by your side

#couuugh. whehezze #hold on #project sekai #emu otori #pjsk #prsk #proseka #ok thatsg enough RANK 96 COOOOOGUH WHEEEZE #literlaly cough wheez ei have fucking covid. i wanted to draw something nicer for the event but my hands rlly hrut snd my throat hirts and #i was sticking my head in the freezer in between matches. #omfg i didnt think the end sprint was gonna be so insane i didnt have enough energy. mfers made me spend 700 gems. nene please. #i never wanna open the game agaon.(guy who will open it tomorrow and sunday) 16 MIL POINTS.. pimh was only 9mil. for rank 80smth. #the hatsune miku colorful stage tiering economy is in shambles #'im never doing that again' [will do it again in august] #event was insane. started out ill -> only 1 rate up card -> charger broke -> assignments -> covid on the last day. Be fr #to my beloved sakurako and fixer i wub you. ill try to finish my nice profile but well honk mimimi. #NSIFFLKE. SNIFFLE. WAAAAAAH #this is so lazy but i havent drawn for myself literally in a week. other than doodles i did between matches #actually theyre like little bobblehead emus all over my sketchbooks i should collage them into anpost #idk how people get that subtle gaussian blur on their lines i tried it but it looks so obvious to me here.. maybe bc i used a thick brush.. #ok wonderhoy i need to lay down so bad tylenol save me. I ACCIDENTALLY SWALLOWED MY LOZENGE IN THE MIDDLE OF A GAAAAAME

[zabiume]

on a slightly related note, i know we joke about ichigo being a dumbass (and sometimes he is), but he's also so much smarter than people give him credit for. i remember initially being frustrated by chapter 479, where ichigo "forgives" ukitake and soul society for stalking him using the combat pass, but i trust ichigo and it's interesting to see in retrospect that this is the same chapter where ichigo asks them to let him take ginjou's body back. the shinigami express outrage at this, and soi fon and shinji specifically mention all the awful things ginjou has done (especially to ichigo's family and friends), but ichigo says "it's not about forgiving or not forgiving; he was a deputy soul reaper"

this is essentially ichigo saying to soul society, "give him dignity for his services and i can trust that you'll do the same for me when my time comes." while ginjou went full-hostile-mode against soul society, ichigo plays his cards a little more cleverly. soul society needs ichigo, and ichigo needs his shinigami powers, so he's willing to take the first step of forgiving their transgressions so they'll (hopefully) pay him the same respect

#kubo does often paint the gotei as very morally dark grey but he also frequently peppers in the idea of trust between them and ichigo #they owe him too much and they know that if they step out of line he won't hesitate to hold them accountable. he's powerful enough to do it #and his heart is almost always in the right place #he's a useful ally to them and they're a useful ally to him but the thing about ichigo is that he's an ally to EVERYBODY #even those in hueco mundo the fullbringers the visoreds his friends & family his quincy allies etc etc #they couldn't claim a monopoly on him even if they wanted to because his duties have gotten so magnanimous #that he's now gone well beyond just being an extension of soul society in the living world #he's the savior of ALL worlds and has routinely been more conscientious than they have #i think it would have been a horrendous decision to walk back on all of that by putting him in a white robe and calling it a day #ichigo's relationship with soul society has always been one of the most interesting and complex dynamic in the series #and you would definitely lose that by having SOUL SOCIETY - as it is in its current form - be its end goal #kubo might be inconsistent with a lot but it's telling that he's always maintained ichigo's heroic status as something he already is #and not something he's yet to attain by reaching for a rank or a title #sorry for tag ranting but um #stan ichigo <3 #*dynamics #*HIS end goal smh

[rotisseries]

inspired by elli's poll lol cause this seems fun actually but if you guys have bad answers I'll kill myself on your doorstep or smth

#“rori all of these are your faves how can there be a bad answer” well I still have an internal ranking on some of these #and if all of you pick an option that I think pales in comparison to the others. well. hm #I know what's gonna sweep though because two of these are niche as hell and 4 maybe 5 of these are things you people don't follow me for #fun fact I actually had to scrape my brain to make sure I couldn't come up with any more #I am unintentionally very picky on what is a favorite apparentlyyyy #I also just don't watch/read enough stuff these days so there's that #AND I NEED LONG TERM EXPOSURE TO KNOW THEY'RE STICKING AROUND #so like. I have some options but I don't KNOWWW if they're sticking yet #but this feels like such a small poll lmao #also no sapphics on here this is actually cause I hate women- #NO. JOKING. zelink is here. I almost put gideon and harrow but I'm in a perpetual state of not having finished tlt #and I couldn't put nebetta and darya I was drawing the line at 2 tbos ships. well. actually. changed my mind #not editing these tags actually you guys can see my thought process #WAIT AND SAYMARI. FUCK. I LITERALLY MADE A PLAYLIST FOR THEM I LOVE THEMMM #ok. is 4 tbos ships too many. hmm #I said 2 of these are niche now four of these are niche it's really the “which tbos pairing is your fave” poll #THIS POLL IS SO FUNNY IT'S SO SELF INDULGENT I HAVE TO TAKE OUT AT LEAST ONE TBOS SHIP #I should add one more general one... #cause I do actually want genuine and varied answers I gotta give y'all options so they don't all pool at the first two #I also almost put ellie and abby on here.. that would've been so funny four popular 1 rarepair 3 super niche ships #ellie and abby are soooo interesting to me though so of course the thought of them having something horrible going on together compels me #and they are one of my 3 favorited ao3 tags... they deserve a place... #ok well while I debate on that I'm putting akutagawa and atsushi on here I admittedly have only had like two months of exposure to them #but it is enough I can tell they are so crazy to me #the way my tags are just me overthinking everything on what is supposed to be a fun and silly poll... no one does it like me I'm afraid

[fortyfive-forty]

WTA 9 - 12 AS LYRICS FROM SONGS I HAVE SAVED [1 - 4] [5 - 8] [INSP]

MARIA SAKKARI [GRE] -> GAVE YOU EVERYTHING [THE INTERRUPTERS] JEĻENA OSTAPENKO [LAT] -> SO WHAT [P!NK] KAROLÍNA MUCHOVÁ [CZE] -> A BEGINNING SONG [THE DECEMBERISTS] DARIA KASATKINA [RUS] -> LIGHT MY LOVE [GRETA VAN FLEET]

#maria sakkari #jelena ostapenko #karolina muchova #daria kasatkina #wta tennis #penko's is a bit on the nose i will admit but i wanted to include the part of the chorus too #literally so what! she is a rock star! who gives a shit #also yes i did give karo my favorite song ever but in my defense it really does fit ok it does #i'm actually pretty pleased with all of these #i wanted maria's to include another verse line that i thought fit her really well but there wasn't space :( #and dasha's i was really proud of. i feel like verse chorus and hook all fit for different reasons #anyways. yeah #this is probably the last one i'm gonna do like this #i realize i sort of shot myself in the foot trying to do it with the rankings because it obviously is gonna change almost every week #and i can't keep up #and also i don't know all the players well enough outside of the top 12 or so to be able to do it accurately #that being said if you have a request for a player (with or without a song in mind) i could still give that a go! #cause thinking of these is really fun and i like the way most of them have come out #i will do atp players but fair warning i know way less about most of them lmfao #ALSO. yes i know these rankings are not official until monday. i don't care let me have this

[insert-neologism]

bad astrology by flower face

#yellowjackets #jackieshauna #ITS DONE OMG ITS FINISHED #what do I do now. with my life (ranking) #also ive decided i am gonna do literary analysis. on all of em #literally i have NO idea if anyone cares. well. i do bc I care and tbh that's enough to me #<- guys look im living so healthy #anyways this was a blast #hope somebody has at least discovered flower face trhu me bc its one of my fav artists #mitos incredible life #mine art tag #also im sorry the like long scenes 3 and 4 arent on beat :/ i love that song but it has so long instrumental stuff and idk what to do there #ALSO!! i had it all planned out like at least half in my docs (like always) #and then in the middle i was like 'omg what if I only show jackie-after-the-argument and shauna-after-jackies-dead' #(excluding the argument and the flashbacks (they used to hear us thru the floor)) #which was. restricting. very much #also meaning was changed (originally wanted jackie to have the line 'idc if ure not made for me' but the only scene i could think of was th #ure hungry for and that was the next scene already so.) #anyways this was originally gonna be lottienat before i started with The Shark In Your Water #bc I thiught it fit them SO well. (still do) but now I like have to get away from the jackieshauna thought and then ill do the lottienat #probably #omg also I want everyone (who has read this far. whoever would do that) to know i was running on like 25 screen #recordings and 3 jackieshauna scene packs form yt #that's why. I dknt have that many clips alright im not using like 10 scenes over n over on purpose #gotta go but im gonna make a wrap post thingy once im back slay #no actually I get like average 7 notes (<- that's a lie Idk bc I didnt count) but im proud of myself this is amazing #ive wanted to do smth similiar alr #but it was some album by alec benjamin and a different thing for every song (like a poem‚ a painting or a play) #but I lost motivation this is the first thing that i actually pulled though all the way I think #jackieshauna: The Shark In Your Water

[twisting-in-wonderland]

ceremonial robes Jade re-draw for practice----

he’s soooooo trustworthy, don’t you want to give him all your personal information?   he’s a super trustworthy guy!

‘lineart’:

and progress stuff----- (not much though)

not pictured is the like,, five different mouths i drew trying to make it look right,,,

(one accidently was just.   :3  so just imagine smug cat jade lol)

(sobs wails i hate drawing backgrounds i hate drawing backgrounds i hate-)

#twst #twisted wonderland #jade leech #art #ram's art #i had art block so i wanted to just re-draw something to practice stuff............ #then i realised how. much is in a twst card #y e o w c h #i - a human who has a destain for bgs - picked this card............. #which has the t u b e #you have any idea how awful it is drawing the tube lines in a perspective thing!??????? #anyways- if it looks unfinished or whatevs uh #i kept thinking more needed to be done but genuinely i had no clue what else to do at the same time lol #i am proud that it resembles the original though lol #i am biased so basically any octatrio vignette is top tier for moi #but i do find this one verryyyy funny- #i can't rank them because i lov them all wwwwww but this would be a top tier of the top tiers tbh #i'll stop rambling nowwwwwww

[decamarks]

I RANKED MY TOP 100 POKEMON! and then graphed them. now that i have this data i'm tempted to add more stuff to sort them by, like pokedex color and shape and such. either way this definitively proves one thing that i'm pretty sure is already entirely obvious: i am HEAVILY biased in favor of gen 4. and psychic types of course.

#pokemon #it's really hard to get a 100% accurate ranking of 'favorites' just because of how subjective that metric is... what does favorite MEAN #for example dialga/giratina/darkrai SHOULD be on here but like. i think you can extrapolate that i REALLY like sinnoh legendaries already. #and there were other pokemon that i wanted to appear on the list so i took them off. same thing with alternate forms/evolutionary lines #i only included multiple members of an evolutionary line and such if i like them a significant amount in addition to the others on the list #this pokemon sorter is fun because despite being theoretically perfect you sorta have to skew your choices to get the list you WANT. #which is all obvious stuff. but i wonder what a completely ''accurate'' list of individual favorite pokemon would look like... #also they should add glitch pokemon to this thing. i think that would be a terrible idea and that's why i want it.

[byakuyasdarling]

I hate randomly blocking people that follow me for no reason other than “what they draw makes me uncomfortable” because it illustrates a fundamental misunderstanding of MY SCRIMBLO (/lh). I understand it’s simply conjecture, but people who highlight that part of his light novel (a part that was revealed to be a dream and not close to canonicity) bother me a lot.

#in short… I hate the Pol//aris P Po//lanski shit #14 year old D//GR fans will be like ‘I know so much about Byakuya 🥺🥺 I read a brief synopsis of his light novel and completely - #misinterpretated this whole plot point and the majority of his quotes!!’ #if you didn’t know: in the light novel he has to cross dress to get into the Legacy Crown Championship #(which decides who is head male - and who gets exhiled) #but if you BOTHERED to read the ending of the dubiously canon novel and his CANON LINES you would know that the plot is actually all in - #-Bl//ue Ink’s head (his step sister who ‘documents’ his legacy as he thinks he is destined to win) #- false memories. I can’t EXACTLY remember why but it was only a dubious recollection of actual events — and in-game and in the novel - #-Byakuya is recognised as #- one of the 15 ‘gold rank’ Tog//ami siblings and therefore never needed to cross-dress to get into the race in the first place #also the book is just hella confusing and awfully gruesome LMAO #but the drawing had his disguise in glasses when Pol//aris wore contacts!! because in the novel Byakuya states he finds glasses unappealing- #-on a woman. though fashionable for himself as a man (thanks ‘Kuya… I have 20/20 vision and I still hate that). #so yeah I was mega uncomfortable for no reason I’m just pedantic and I hate the fandom (for the most part) #I love you guys though LMAO #sorry I sounded like a gatekeeper LOL #I’ve ran into like… 3 more wives of Byakuya and I do actually really like their content and was okay with them but I didn’t interact beyond- #- a cursory glance because I don’t want to risk myself being uncomfortable or anyone else. I only have a lot of warnings because there are - #-fringe cases I really hate. so I have to use umbrella terms. #(so I am not THAT BAD. but I can be especially with the non-canon Pola//ris stuff and blatant misinterpretation #I FEEL SO MEAN. #not good for business.

[s1ithers]

forgot this guy was a funny bitch

#uldred for president #purple hawke wishes #most sarcastic motherfucker in the series or? do you just have to start buying that line to climb the ranks in the circle #OR is it unintentional akjfsdal all these years & i can still never decide if i think any part of DA is self-aware #a few ppl in the tags of that morrigan wing post said it made them want to play this game and i do feel a pang of guilt

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fanfic idea: Big Fish in Gotham Pond

Based off of @saphushia art found here. . I just loved the idea of Tucker not knowing his skill level because he grew up in the boonies

Tucker gets scouted by Wayne Enterprises after he fixes a kid's computer game while in Gotham visiting Danny.

See, Tucker always known he is passable at tech- one has to be when a technology theme ghost is consistently harassing one's best friend- but to be good at something in a small town like Amity Park didn't mean much .

It's a big fish in a small pound sort of deal. That's why he's never put much thought into it. If Tucker were ever to rank himself in terms of school grades, he would say his computer skills were about a C-.

B+ if it was just coding.

His parents also don't think much of his obsession with his PDA or phones. They thought he waste too many hours on them like the rest of his generation.

It didn't matter that Tucker's technology was about five or more years behind his classmates.

The Foley were hard-working people who barely scraped enough for bills. They were never below the property line, but they danced on it often enough that Tucker knew never to ask for unnecessary purchases.

For as long as he could remember, his parents have always worked long and hard hours. He never blamed them for missing so much of his childhood, in fact he was grateful that they worked so hard to keep the roof over his head, but he did miss them.

That's why Danny's house became a haven for him. He was always at the Fenton's place because the loud, wacky family was much better company than the home silence.

Tucker knew that his family's financial situation didn't change how Danny or Sam viewed him. They had his back through tick and thin just as he did for them, but as they got closer to graduation the difference between them became jarring.

Sam had easy picking of what she wanted to do and where she wanted to go. Her parents were so overjoyed that she wanted to go to a university that they didn't even argue about her wishing to major in botanical biochemistry.

She had started house hunting in Star City midway through senior year. Her parents would gift it to her as a graduation present. Sam would live there for the next eight years to finish her degree.

Danny's parents, while somewhat eccentric, were also certified geniuses. Between the two of them, they had five PHDs and were often freelancing for companies when not doing ghost research. They too could send their two kids to college States away with housing not being a issue.

Jazz went to Metropolis to study Physiology. She lived in a small apartment but was doing well off her scholarships and parent's funding. Last he heard, she had a part-time job at the Daily Planet as a research assistant to gain some independence.

Danny wanted to go to Gotham for their engineering program. He, too, had an apartment of his own, with scholarships and equal funding from his parents. He also worked at Wayne Enterprises, but he was a receptionist. He hoped that once he graduated, he could apply for their engineering program

Not Tucker. His family could only help him get into Community College near Amity. He also couldn't afford to move out so he stayed with them, picking up a part time job to help out when he could.

Tucker is a first-generation college student so even though it wasn't much, he loved to see how his parents glowed when telling others their boy was futhering his education. He wanted to do something that paid well- and after years of patching up Danny- he figured nursing would do the trick.

Tucker would do all his basics in the community College, take a break to save up some money and then move on to the bigger schools.

The day of the graduation felt bittersweet. Team Phantom was finally adults, finally starting out in the real world, but while Danny and Sam moved on to bigger and better things, Tucker knew he would be left behind in little no-where Amity Park.

He never brought it up, but he felt a small dosage of envy the last day of summer before his friends finished packing and left.

Despite both being gone, Tucker had little to no social life even though they called, texted, and emailed often. His days blurred between class, work, and home. Even then, classes were long and tedious, work often ending with one or more customers screaming in his face to try and get free food.

His parents quickly started to nag that he should find a wife as they had married young. They couldn't figure out why he didn't want the same, even though he had no social life again.

Life became dull.

Tucker's only sparks of joy were playing online with Danny and Sam - when they found the time to log in or re-coding his old tech to try and salvage it whenever it broke down.

Soon, it became apparent that Tucker was slowly lacking motivation when he started skipping classes to sleep in and started feeling anxious when he needed to clock in for shifts.

It leads to him barely getting out of bed.

He felt horrible about it, thinking his parents sacrificed so much for him only to have him throw away the opportunities they gave him, and the cycle of not being able to get out of bed would start all over again.

It was Danny who caught on, and all but begged Tucker to come to Gotham for a weekend. He even sent money over for the plane ticket.

Tucker couldn't have gotten on that plane fast enough. He arrived early on Friday since the tickets were cheaper- and Uber over to WE headquarters to pick up Danny's keys as they agreed.

That way, Tucker could sleep and rest in the apartment while Danny worked.

Danny would finish his shift and have the weekend plus Monday and Tuesday off to spend with Tucker. When he arrived, Danny was helping a school check in for a field trip, so Tucker sat down to wait.

Next to him, a kid was growling at his laptop, frankly typing and moving his fingers over the computer's touch mouse. Tucker accidentally glimpsed his screen when the kid started swearing in a different language.

It looked like a shooting game but his lag was bad. By the time the boy pressed the buttons to have his little drone move the other flying things he was chasing were flipping though the air and out of his shooting rage.

It sucked when that happened, and since he was using WE free wifi for guests, it was probably the game. The graphics were badass, though. Seemed almost real.

"Hey try updating the system" He tells the kid after seeing the boy once again lag so bad he missed his shot.

Green eyes swing to him drenched in rage. Which yeah, Tucker knows how frustrating that could be.

"Did I ask for your help!?" The boy snaps, his words lined with an upper-class accent. Made sense since he was wearing a Gotham Academy uniform like the rest of the large school group. "Why are you even looking this way, peasant?"

"No, sorry. I just noticed the lag." Tucker raised his hand, slightly amused at the peasant insult. "I thought I could fix it for you."

The boy's face spams, "You believe you have the ability?"

"Ugh sure? I can try?"

"Here. Be quick. The fate of this city's air defenses depend on it" the boy turns his lap top to him and Tucker blinks.

Okay. So fix the game. He can do that.

And he does, quickly opening the code, analyzing the control and commands , he gets it running properly in less then twenty minutes. The boy seems utterly shock but he quickly takes control of the game and shoots down all the escaping ninjas from the sky.

"Thank you." The boy says with no more tense in his shoulders. Then he closes his laptop and dissappears with the crowd of students.

Tucker thought the kid was a cute.

Danny hands him the keys not long after and he leaves.

Never was he aware of the Boy being Damian Wayne and that the game was not a game but a actual defensive drone system that was fighting off the League of Assassins.

He only finds out how important those two facts are when Danny gets a call from Tim Drake asking if he could pass along Tucker's information because the CEO wanted him on staff as soon as possible..

Both nineteen-year-olds lost their minds after getting the call, screaming at each other in ghost shrieks of glee. They called Sam to let her know- and have her lawyers look over the contact Tim Drake sent just to make sure it wasn't a big-time company trying to screw him over.

He went to an interview three days later. He faced Tim Drake, the current seventeen-year-old CEO, Leo Noir, the current head of HR, and Jessica War, the current head of computer services. They asked him many questions about himself- some of which he felt he had answered terribly- then had him take a computer test.

Tucker thought it was busy work, so he quickly breezed through it. He fixed the problem in many of the coding for various programs, adding his flare to the final product, and after thanking them for their time, went out into the lobby.

He hadn't even reached the door before Jesssica ran after him, offering him the job. Apparently, the first two problems they had him do was the busy work. Tucker had thought they were the ones to let him get comfortable with the coding program.

Like a tutorial in video games.

The other seven were actual issues; many of their latest cellphone products failed. Tucker had solved them in an hour, which had taken the actual team of coders about a month.

"Nitey one dollar and thirty-five cents an hour," Tim tells him tapping the hiring contact. "It would be eighty hours every paycheck. You can work here or at home. Full Benefits. What do you say?"

Tucker's jaw drops. "When do I start!?"

He calls his parents to tell them he will be staying in Gotham with Danny. He tries to explain what had happened but it was all so fast that he can only babble about certain parts.

They tell him not to worry about explaining because they understand how much this means to him.

His parents help pack everything for him and when he flies back for it they, offer him hugs and support. Tucker is so glad they aren't mad.

"I sort of knew it was coming," His dad laughs. "You and that Fenton boy have always been inseparable."

"I did the same thing, you know," His mom says, wiping tears from her eyes but smiling all the same. "I moved with your father states away with little to no plan when I turned twenty too. Drove your grandfather mad."

He loves them both so much. He promises to send money- disregarding their denials- and flies back to Gotham, where Danny has opened his apartment until he gets enough for his own place.

He plans on renting a house with three bedrooms, one for him, one for his office, and another for Danny, as soon as he can. He wants to pay his friend back for everything he did and Danny deserves a bigger living space.

And for once, he'll not have to worry about money!

For once, life is looking up!

(What Tucker is unaware of, is that his parents think he moved to the big city to be with his childhood best friend turned recent lover. They don't know that the money he is sending home is from his own payroll and not Danny's. They think he's a stay-at-home husband.

Tucker is also unaware that the Bats are closely watching him in case he goes rogue. They have been slowly "causally" running into him in the city and breaking into his place to check for supervillain activity.)

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Big Fish in Gotham Pond au #Tucker is unaware of his skills #The Bat's are keeping a eye on him #His parents think he dropped out to be gay in Gotham' #Danny is happy for his best friend #Sam is laughing silly in Star City #Tucker in his main character era #Is Danny in love with him? Who knows

[andyoullhearitagain]

Every Starfleet Uniform Ranked By How Annoying The Sleeve Is To Sew, Part 2

Part 1

6. TOS Men's Uniform:

Here we have 1. Quite a severe curve 2. with a zipper in it 3. an invisible zipper at that 4. with pattern matching through the zipper at the collar

5. in velour (slippery). Woof.

7. Disco:

OK we've got two points of pattern matching, but they don't have to be too precise because they've got this round shiny striped piece between them. Of course that piecing means we're basically setting a sleeve in twice, but I will concede that the stretch will be more forgiving than a woven would be. Add in the piecing on the bicep and two different sticky rubber-y fabrics for further difficulty. 

8. TNG Version 2B and Voyager:

All the work of a tailored sleeve with an added inverse corner in an intersection of four seams.

PLUS two points of pattern matching, which is very tricky in an armsyce because you're trying to get the pitch right. You can see in TNG they often have trouble with it and have either a jog in the pattern matching

or too much ease in the wrong place to force the pattern to match.

They seem to have figured it out by Voyager though. I'm also fairly certain they have raglan shoulder pads in them instead of regular ones, which isn't really harder I guess but is a bit odd (no shade, they're incredibly flattering).

9. DS9/ TNG Movies:

All the difficulties of the TNG armscye and now we've added trim, meaning we really have four points of pattern matching instead of two. I could be persuaded that the contrast pieces are applied over the upper sleeve piece instead of pieced, which is easier than what TNG is doing.

10. Enterprise:

I think this is regular raglan sleeve and not some kind of half raglan/half set in sleeve like we see in TNG. Either way it's a bit easier than the TNG sleeve because the trim and yoke are applied on top and top stitched. But we've still got that mitered corner in our bias trim and our four points of pattern matching on the shoulder seam. And then we've also added like four zippers!!!

11. Picard:

What did the stitchers do to this designer? FOUR inverse corners (I guess at least it doesn't intersect a seam this time) PLUS the piecing at the cuff, PLUS all the pattern matching at the armscye, and all in stretch (I think). The only reason it's not the most difficult sleeve is because it looks fairly flat and I bet if you do a nice tight hand baste you can get everything lined up on the first try. Also this is not strictly speaking part of the sleeve but those little corners in the yoke? Good grief.

12. TNG Version 2A:

Never in my life have I seen an armscye like this. What is this even called? How do you construct it? I suppose I would sew the sleeve pieces together, set them in the armscye, then sew the raglan/yoke pieces together at the shoulder seam and then stitch them all the way across the front and then all the way across the back. But good grief. The ONLY other sleeve I could find remotely like this is this 1940s Simplicity pattern (it's on ebay if you want it).

With a few added seams you can imagine what these pattern pieces must look like.

13. TNG Version 1:

All the malarkey of 2A except you've got to do it in spandex. I'd pick wool any day. We also have a second yoke (?!) so now we have to do that little inverse corner TWICE and also add piping. Never in my life have I done an intersection of piping correctly the first time.

And then on top of all that it's ugly. Terrible sewing experience. Worst sleeve in Star Trek *bangs gavel*.

#star trek #yelling about costume design #armscyes #sewing

[tasteracha]

kinktober - day sixteen

kink: sex toys with jilix

warnings: smut - MINORS DNI. sex toys, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, afab!reader. mention of hentai (typical jlix things). 3k.

it’s something that felix and jisung bring up all the time. throughout your entire time as roommates slash best friends with benefits they’ve talked about it, but they’ve never followed through with it. 

they want to ruin you. stretch you so far that you’re left with your pussy gaping, fill you up so far that it feels like your breath is taken away. the thought of it sends you into a dizzy spell if you think about it too long, but it’s always just that. a thought. you’re not sure why, since every other kink that’s been brought up has been tried and added to the ranked bulletin board in your room.

handcuffs? yes, enthusiastically. 

petplay? no, much to jisung’s poorly concealed disappointment.

stuffed full of sex toys? TBD.

but no matter how many times any of you had brought it up, whether it be giggling into a glass of wine or holding hands in the dark under your covers, they never made any moves to make it become reality. 

so, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

it’s almost too easy to sneak an excessively large order of sex toys onto jisung’s credit card, the one he had given to you with a wink and a whispered you know what to do with this. you hadn’t known what to do with it, but you pocketed the card anyways, saving it for a rainy day. maybe this is what he had meant when he said that to you - you’ll find out soon, probably. 

by the time it arrived you were almost sick with anticipation, the thought of it not leaving you as you obsessively checked the tracking of your package every possible second. when it finally arrived they weren’t home, and you opened it without abandon, ripped pieces of cardboard littering the floor. they looked…daunting. almost scary. incredibly exciting.

“tomorrow,” felix says, more to the contents of the box than to you. “tomorrow, we’re going to ruin you with these.”

“tomorrow?” both you and jisung whined together, and you exchanged a fist bump over the box as felix huffed at you. 

and yet, with all of the impatient waiting you did in the past week (and jisung in the past day), tomorrow came sooner than you could catch up with. you were naked on the mattress before you could even blink, cunt clenching around nothing as you watched them lay out the materials that you had so meticulously picked out.

it might be a little too soon for an endeavor like this, it would be smarter to try out every toy first and make sure you were comfortable with all of them, but they’ve kept you waiting too long for this for you to think about being smart right now. 

they lined the toys up at the foot of the bed, all washed and sanitized and ready for whatever filthy use they were going to be put through. there’s four of them, varying in size, girth and length, color, and vibrations and thrusting ability, and you’re already a bit overwhelmed just looking at them. 

or rather, a lot overwhelmed. 

they make eyes at each other over you, having some kind of silent conversation in the creepy way that they do. felix nods and moves to sit by your head, moving you around until your upper body was half in his lap. jisung, on the other hand, picks up the first toy and examines it, twisting it around in his hand. 

“relax, baby,” felix’s voice rumbles through you, and you melt into him a bit when he runs his hand through your hair. 

jisung’s eyes are fixated on your pussy now, and you can almost see the wheels turning in his head as he imagines how wrecked you’re going to be once they’re done with you. 

“jisung, come on,” you whine, wriggling a bit in felix’ lap. 

“let me enjoy this,” he bites back, sending you a playful glare. 

“i think i’m the one who’s supposed to be enjoying this,” you pout, relaxing back into place when felix tugs at a strand of your hair. 

“oh trust me, you will,” felix’s voice grumbles from behind you, vibrations from it dousing your body just as jisung finally touches you. it’s not quite where you want, his hand is tracing up and down your thigh, but it’s something. 

he takes his time mapping out your skin, planes of smooth flesh that he’s seen and felt and loved before, but never this slowly. never this reverently. it’s almost frustrating, but felix begins massaging your neck and shoulders and you’re too relaxed to provide any protest beyond a frustrated huff of breath as your eyes flutter closed. 

“no, stay with us,” felix coaxes your eyes open, and you almost giggle at how funny he looks upside-down from where you’re laying. it feels like time is moving in slow-motion as jisung uncaps the lube and drizzles it on the toy, the smallest one you had chosen. it’s thin with a bulbous head, created specifically to hit right at your g-spot, a smooth metal with a lustrous purple finish. it’s beautiful, even more so when he runs the cool metal head up and down your folds, warming it up. when it gets to your hole you nearly swallow it up, the glide almost too easy from the lube and your wetness that’s been building since before you even took off your clothes. 

“eager, are we?” jisung teases, and you just snarl back at him, too impatient to deal with being in a sarcastic argument with him right now. you usually love his playful banter during sex, but that’s when you’re in a mutual push and pull dynamic. right now the only thing you want him to push is the toy into you. “fine, i’ll give you what you want, but remember that you asked for it.”

all at once, he’s thrusting it in and out of you, twisting his hand just right so that it hits your spot every single time. it’s already almost too much, and you push up against felix to try and get away from the sudden onslaught. he just laughs, pinning you in place as jisung keeps going and going and going. 

it only takes a few minutes for your orgasm to approach, expectantly fast with how keyed up you’ve been since you woke up. you’re just starting to come when — in one quick move — jisung removes the toy and replaces it with his fingers, crooking them up right where he knows you like it best, over and over. the change in pace makes everything so much more intense, and you can’t stop your body from arching off of the bed, your head pressed into felix’ thighs. it feels like minutes before you slump back onto the mattress, panting hard and twitching from aftershocks. he removes his fingers, holding them up so you and felix could see how slick they are from being inside of you. he sticks them in his mouth, sucking at them a bit like a lollipop, and lets out an appreciative noise at the taste. you hide your face into felix’ leg, embarrassed at his actions. 

jisung doesn’t let you recover before grabbing the second toy, a bright pink vibrator complete with a thrusting head. he forgoes the lube this time, choosing to scoop up your wetness onto his fingertips and spread it across the toy instead. you whine when his fingers brush your clit, overly sensitive even though it hadn’t been touched yet. he settles the tip of it against your hole, rubbing at it in tiny circles.

“what a greedy fucking pussy,” jisung says, almost clinical in the way he looks at felix with an arched brow. like he’s not talking about a person. “just came and she’s already leaking for more.”

felix just hums, dark eyes fixed on the way your bottom lip is stuck between your teeth as jisung slides the second toy into you. it settles in perfectly, leaving you so comfortably full that you think you could fall asleep like this, especially after coming as hard as you just had. 

“what did i tell you?” felix says, accentuating his words with another sharp tug to your hair. “stay with us, baby.” 

“i’m - ah,” your breath leaves you as jisung flicks the vibrator on. even at it’s lowest setting, it sends pulses of pleasure swimming through you, and you feel hot all over. the heat intensifies when he pushes the toy just a little further into you and presses the button for the thrusting to start. it feels strange at first, the rubber head so different to jisung or felix’s cocks, but then he angles it upwards just so and there it is. 

every time you clench down onto it you feel your toes and fingertips tingle with pleasure, little pricks of static taking over your limbs. jisung holds the base close to your entrance, keeping in place as it thrusts into you in a perfectly delicious rhythm. 

“this one might be my favorite,” jisung says, and he sounds like he’s kneeling down to worship something rather than kneeling to absolutely wreck you. you try and reply, but your words get swallowed by a series of sounds that escape your throat. “felix, find a way to shut her up, will you?” 

it’s almost comical the way jisung turns into a control freak when it came to sex; you weren’t complaining though, even when felix hooks his thumb into your mouth and presses down on your tongue. jisung turns the vibrations up and you come for the second time, your eyes rolling so far back that you’re almost scared they’ll get stuck there. he keeps the toy there, letting you ride out your orgasm, and he only turns it off when you start to twitch with oversensitivity. 

“is it my turn now?” felix takes his thumb out of your mouth and strokes his hand down your face, leaving a trail of your spit down your cheek. “i want a turn, you’re hogging her.”

“whiny baby,” jisung tuts, but he stands up from where he had been kneeling in front of you. he drops a kiss to your inner thigh before switching spots with felix, settling in behind you. 

while felix had let your hands wander, clenching in and out of fists as you got more and more into it, jisung had no such notion to give you freedom. he immediately traps your wrists into one of his hands once he was sure your head was comfortable in his lap, and his other hand comes to rest at your collarbone. it’s possessive, the way his fingers curl up just a bit like he’s waiting for a reason to run his nails down your skin. 

the third toy that felix picks up is a normal dildo, clear glass in a respectable size and length, and you’re almost glad for a little normalcy right now. 

“should i eat you out first? make you come on my tongue before using this?” he asks, mouth so close to your clit that you could feel his breath hitting it. it made you shiver. 

“if you do that i might not last,” you groan, trying to clamp your thighs shut but you were stopped by felix’s hands. “you’ll have to scrape my body off of the bed.”

“i’ll have to do that anyways when i’m through with you,” he teases, drawing back a bit. “but you’re right. i want to see your face when i ruin you, and it’s hard to do that from down there.”

the slide of the dildo entering you was almost undetectable after jisung had dealt with you, the only thing you could feel was the coolness of the glass and the fullness in your lower belly. 

you sigh, letting your head fall back into jisung. maybe felix would go easy on you for the first one? you let your body relax so felix could push it all the way in. 

you regretted that almost immediately though - felix, with all of his dancer’s grace and control, knows exactly what to do with his hands. knows how to twist his wrist just right, how to speed up and slow back down in perfect timing, and it doesn’t matter that it’s just a normal dildo because he isn’t a normal fucking person. 

he alternated between an insanely fast and agonizingly slow rhythm, never letting you get used to one before switching to the other. every time you got close, he’d angle it just away from your spot, leaving you teetering on the edge of an orgasm over and over. 

if jisung wasn’t holding you down you’d be thrashing against the sheets right now. 

when felix finally let’s you come it’s with his mouth sucking at your clit and your body taught as a rope. it feels like hours before you come down, wave after wave of boiling pleasure burning through your veins, taking over your whole body. 

“okay?” jisung asks as felix pulls the toy out of you, shushing you when you whine at the feeling. 

“guh,” you let out, the most intelligent response you can offer him right now. he lets go of your wrists to intertwine his hands in yours, keeping you close but knowing that you needed the grounding. 

the last toy was really for them. you know that they’re little freaks inside, and you couldn’t stop yourself from selecting it - a bright green and red silicone toy, shaped like a tentacle. it’s wide at the base, about the size of your fist, and that brings up another idea that you store in your head for later. the tip is tapered, and little faux suction cups line the entire surface of the toy. it isn’t too long, but god it’s thick. 

felix picks up the bottle of lube and coats the thing generously, and you’re grateful for it. for how big it is, you weren’t sure if your body was capable of slicking it up without some help. 

“can’t,” you stutter out when he places the tip at your entrance, teasing it inside of you. you wanted to move away but you couldn’t, jisung made sure of that. 

“you can,” jisung coos at you, the first time he’s spoken since switching places with felix. “you know what to say it you really can’t. but i think you can, baby girl.”

he’s right. through all of this, your safeword hadn’t even breached through to your consciousness. you still wanted this, as insane as it was. 

“fuck, you’re stretched out,” felix curses, pushing the toy into you. you can feel it all the way in your throat, even though it was only a little over halfway inside of you. god, was he going to try and get the whole thing in?

the answer was yes, he was. he twists his wrist, letting your body get used to the girth of the toy for a moment before pulling it out almost all the way. he slowly slides it back in, and the squelch of the suction cups dragging in and out makes you flush so hard you feel lightheaded. 

jisung is breathing hard behind you, and you revel in how affected he is right now. you chose well, you did good.

you’ve never had something inside of you that felt like this; it wasn’t moving but you could imagine if it was, in the ways that tentacles did in the hentai jisung made you watch - you never understood the appeal until now. you wanted it to completely engulf you. you had almost forgotten that it was attached to felix’s hand until he started pumping it in and out of you, absolutely obscene sounds filling the room from both it and your own mouth. 

when you come for the last time it’s a fragile thing, slow rolls of heat washing over you, less intense but no less pleasurable. you feel floaty even felix removes the toy carefully, dumping it on the floor and pressing a flutter of kisses to your thighs. your head is sailing through the clouds just as your body feels weightless, the only thing keeping you tethered to the bed being their hands on you. 

“let’s get her cleaned up,” jisung says, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of your head. 

“no, ‘m not done,” you mumble, half into jisung’s arm where your mouth is now squished. there’s a line of drool running from your lips down his skin, but you’re too exhausted to care about something that would normally send you into a fit of embarrassment. 

“oh, she’s out,” felix sounds almost in awe, like he can’t believe the state the two of them had pushed you towards. that he couldn’t believe that, even though you couldn’t move a single limb in your body, you were still asking for more. felix reaches to the nightstand where he had placed a cool water bottle with a straw peeking out, and he holds it up to your mouth so you can suck small sips. the water feels heavenly, soothing your parched throat perfectly. did he put magic in this water? it sure feels like he did. 

you didn’t realize that you were talking out loud until they laugh, the sound of it sending happiness throughout your entire body. you made them happy. 

“hi baby,” felix materializes at your side, cradling your face in his hands so you are looking at him instead of the ceiling. “bath or washcloth?”

“can’t move,” you replied, hoping he’d understand. when he comes back with a washcloth and starts cleaning you up, you know he did. he knows you so well. 

you let out a series of whines when he cleans around your pussy, the burn of overstimulation bordering on painful now. jisung soothes you with a kiss for each one, his hands still intertwined with yours. 

you fall asleep before felix finishes, and you miss the way they both look at you with nothing but adoration in their eyes. 

—

kinktober masterlist

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids imagines #lee felix smut #felix smut #jisung smut #han jisung smut #lee felix x y/n #han jisung x reader

[bitten-fruit]

you re-enlist

And Captain John Price absolutely doesn't want you to. He begrudgingly takes you to his office to sign the paperwork - and shows you what your decision has brought you.

18+ MDNI - 5k words

tags: John Price x f!Reader, power play, oral and vaginal sex

a/n: To get some content on here I've pulled this from my longfic Licking Wounds on Ao3. Trimmed/tweaked it a little to make them tumblr friendly :)

“Just... let me sign what I need to.” You breathed, exasperated.

Captain Price sat behind his desk, leaning back insouciantly in his chair, bouncing his knee in irritation. His cautious and tired eyes flitted between yours, considering his words before he spoke.

“This is your last chance to change your mind.” He grunted.

You sucked your teeth frustration. “I’m not changing my mind.”

“You should.”

“Why? Will my presence really be that fucking draining for you?”

He quickly absorbed your sudden anger, mirroring it as he stood from his chair, leaning against the surface of his desk on white knuckles.

“You know that’s not what this is about.”

His tone was by turn seething and pleading, glowering at you with gruelling severity.

You scoffed. “Oh, so it would be.”

“For fuck’s sake, don’t be childish.”

“Childish?”

Evidently fed up with your petulant bickering, his head dropped from his shoulders as he grunted in frustration. “I just... I can’t understand why you’d come back to this.”

“You can’t?”

“You had the chance to get away from it. You got out.”

“Got out. You think I got out, do you? That once I got shipped back to London I was done with it all?” You groaned, impatient. “Just let me sign the goddamn paper."

There was visible dispute burgeoning behind his lips, but he stayed silent – leaning forward to tug open one of the drawers of his desk. He pulled out a pad of blank paper forms, hesitantly but methodically tearing one sheet free along the perforated line. He flipped it, placing it down on the wooden surface and twisting it so it faced you, pushing it towards the edge in your direction with his fingertips.

He plucked a ballpoint pen from the steel mesh cup on the edge of the desk, before dropping it on top of the paper form with a quiet clack.

Crossing his arms, he stood upright with a huff and watched you scrutinisingly; glare challenging yet reluctant.

You quietly swallowed, stepping abashedly towards the desk and leaning over it, holding the pen between your fingers and pensively clicking the end of it with your thumb.

Jaded eyes scanned each word, the tip of the pen trailing each line as you read. You checked box after box, writing down the answers to probing questions as though you were completing an exam under the shrewdly watchful eye of your professor. Existing health conditions, current medication, family lineage, previous rank, promotable status. It would almost be nostalgic, answering questions such as these again, for the first time since you were promoted to sergeant four years ago – if it didn’t carry such painful weight, and weren’t so rife with sordid history.

The nib of your pen met that dotted line, finally, at the bottom of the form. Your eyes looked at the conditions and implications of your signature, that thick paragraph above the box, though not a single word was absorbed by your busy mind. It didn’t matter – you knew the consequences of that pen meeting the paper. Even if the Captain wished it, signing your life back into the hands of the SAS was not something that could be easily revoked.

He seemed to relish hopefully in your hesitation, his breath slowing as he watched you consider, pen hovering cautiously over the paper.

You briefly glanced up at him, from under your challenging eyebrows, meeting his eye. His stiff gaze wordlessly pleaded with you, his mouth in an austere line.

Steadfast, you ignored his silent dispute.

You signed the dotted line.

There.

Done.

No backing out now.

A soldier again.

You were astonished at the adrenaline a mere signature could pump from your heart, quivering with it, as you dropped the pen to the desk and stood upright.

His steely eyes did not leave you, face replete with a medley of discernible emotions; ire, anxiety, remorse, solemnity. Arms still crossed firmly over his chest, you listened as his heaving lungs drew in a deep, exasperated breath.

He licked his teeth before he spoke.

“That’ll be all then, Sergeant.”

He dismissed you bluntly, coarse voice dripping with derision. A crease formed in your forehead, taken aback by his sudden dismissal, breath hitching at his use of your rank instead of your name; sergeant, a title he hadn’t referred to you by in two years.

It was as though he was satisfied, doing his best to show you what your decision had brought you, to make you regret it. You were his subordinate again. Just his sergeant.

“I knew you’d enjoy it in the end, Captain.” You seethed, tone draped in sardonicism, an immediate retaliation.

His brow furrowed as he looked down his nose at you. “Enjoy what, eh?”

“You finally get to order me around again, don’t you?”

“You-”

“Am I dismissed? Or are you going to command me to drop and give you fifty?” You growled pettishly, scowling up at him. “It must’ve been hard, not being able to command me to do your bidding while I was a civilian. But that didn’t stop you from trying, did it?”

He grunted, an increasingly enraged sigh escaping his chest. “I didn’t want to be giving you orders again.”

“Bullshit.”

“No, I didn’t. Just because you don’t know what to do with yourself when you’re not being commanded to do it, doesn’t mean I’ve been waiting for the chance to.”

A kick to the stomach, you worried you’d lose your balance with the blow.

Grimacing at him, you stepped your weight onto your back foot in reaction to his venomous accusation.

“Fuck you.”

You hissed it through your teeth, unable to conjure up any intelligent rebuttal, only lashing out with the reprisal that your frenetic emotions scrambled together.

He sniffed irately, adjusting his arms over his chest.

“Can’t talk to your captain that way, Sergeant.”

Your jaw hung loose in disbelief, overcome with a cold rage that made your body quake as it flooded your arteries.

“Fuck you,” you repeated wryly, daring. “Are you going to order me not to talk back to you, sir? You prick?”

He glared at you with challenging contempt.

“You want me to give you an order, do you?”

“I want you to get off your fucking high horse.”

“Yeah? Am I too honourable?”

“Honourable? You’re a sanctimonious p–”

He put his hands on his hips, brashly sucking his teeth before he interrupted you.

“Take off your shirt.”

His hoarse command pierced the thick air like a bullet.  

The wind was viciously sucked from your lungs, then, your racing heart jolted under your ribs with such voltage it felt as though you had been shocked by a defibrillator. You could only stare at him, stupid, waiting for him to relent, to take it back, to say that he was kidding.

His expression, now, was unreadable. You weren’t certain whether he was purposefully keeping his countenance devoid of emotion – or, if, you had abruptly lost any and all ability to understand him or his intentions.

He was a stranger, but a familiar one. A captivating one.

Before you could stammer out a semblance of a response, he continued.

“That’s the sort of order you’ve been wanting from me, isn’t it?” He goaded darkly, seemingly smug at his ability to render you flustered and wordless with one short sentence.

Dumbstruck, still, you could only swallow a pointed breath as you desperately tried to read any clear objective in his shrouded blue eyes.

“Go on.”

He’s not kidding.

“You wanted an order, I gave you one.”

Fuck.

You were completely staggered by the whiplash. Your distended heart thumped so vigorously in your chest you thought it might crack a rib.

There was a conviction within you, somewhere, to question him. To question if he was being serious, to ask him if this was some kind of sick joke to make you regret your decision.

And while you believed that was the case, that it was a derisive retribution, a game to get back at you – there was a stronger urge to play along. To meet his challenge, to execute his dare.

Meeting his indignant gaze with yours, you tucked your fingers under the hem that sat between your waist and hips, peeling it up your torso and stretching it over your shoulders, then past your head. Sweeping your loosened hair out of your face, you held the thin black fabric in the other hand before dropping it to the linoleum floor. You shivered a little in the cool air of the room, your stiffening nipples concealed by the cups of your rarely-worn grey marl brassiere – practical and unsexy.

But the look on his face was telling; he hadn’t truly expected you to comply.

That surprise waned quickly. His dark eyes tried their best to hold your stare, but they failed him – raking over your torso, jaw clenching as his gaze stuck brazenly to your exposed cleavage.

Trembling with adrenaline, you waited for him to say something. Anything.

You expected dispute; you anticipated he’d say, I wasn’t serious. And that would be a satisfying reaction – your effort to make him uncomfortable would prove a success, a victory, you’d have the last figurative word.

He wiped down his face with an open hand, rubbing his beard anxiously as he wrestled with what to say, how to react – maybe some attempt to restrain himself. He leaned against the surface of the desk, resting his weight on his knuckles.

Through gritted teeth, he uttered his next command.

“Bra.”

You swallowed timorously.

It was surreal, really, you worried you were hallucinating – you imagined that in reality he was shouting at you to stop, but you were unable to hear him over your carnal psychosis.

But it was too late now, to stop yourself. You were driven to finish what you started. Changing your mind now, pulling your shirt back over your head and running out the door – would leave you questioning whether any of it was real. You wouldn’t survive in that oblivion, between reality and dream, fact and fantasy.

You needed proof.

You reached behind your back, contorting your shoulders to allow your fingers to grip the clasp against your spine. Your breasts pillowed out of the top of the soft cups as you stretched the band to unhook it, before slipping the straps down your shoulders. It slid from your chest, down your arms, gently – it, too, fell to the floor; you dropped it on top of your abandoned t-shirt.

You drew in a quivering breath, the skin of your breasts tingling as the goosebumps elicited by their exposure trickled across their soft flesh.

He sucked in a heavy breath, deep and slow, rugged and rasping. He took a step, and you retracted slightly; but you watched like cautious prey, as he walked around from the far side of his desk, to the front of it. He leaned on the very edge of the surface, not quite sitting on it, as he insouciantly crossed one boot over the other. His lascivious eyes did not leave you, absorbing every feature, every curve, like he was admiring an artwork.

Despite the metre and a bit of distance from him, you felt the dense heat that hung in the air between the two of you, radiating from him like he was a fucking oven.

“Trousers.”

A brief conflict almost escaped you, but he quickly smothered it.

“Off.”

Whatever reluctance that lingered melted away, then, dripping off of you like a layer of sticky ice cream – by virtue of the unwavering sternness of his command. And that, you realised, was where your comfort lay; where there was no ambiguity, no remorse for a poorly made decision, no culpability for your actions. If you were following an order, the onus was on him.

So you followed it.

Your kittenish fingers went to the button of your grey cargo trousers, popping it undone, slyly pulling down the zip of your fly. You flayed back the open waistband, pushing them down your hips, struggling briefly to pull them past your ass; its recent plumpness made your pants a touch too small. The polyester fabric loudly shuffled in the distended silence as the trousers fell down your legs, into a puddle at your feet; you stepped out of them as though out of a pond.

By the time you looked up to meet his gaze once again, though, he had already charged at you; quickly taking the base of your head with large hands and pulling you towards him. He forced his eager lips against yours with a ferocity that left you breathless, such an aggression that your first primal instinct was to resist him with claws against his chest.

But you were quick to surrender to him, relishing in the taste of him, his tongue, his breath hot in your mouth, you sucked it deep into your chest. Your starving hands coiled up and around his neck, scratching at the tense muscles in his heaving back through the fabric of his uniform jersey; hooking into him in some feline effort to make sure he was real, to prevent his escape, to keep him from being stolen away.

His mouth wasn’t on yours for long, though, dragging wetly across your jaw to your neck, the crook of your shoulder; he chewed at your soft, fervid skin, teeth skimming and barely digging into the tendonous flesh. His vicious hands gave you no reprieve, clutching at any part of you that could force you closer, tighter against him – ensnaring the meat of your hips, your waist, kneading at your sensitive breast with the other.

He separated from you only briefly, though his possessive hands didn’t leave you. Crouching slightly, he hooked his arms behind your thighs, under your ass – deftly hoisting you upwards with no visible effort. You clutched the back of his neck, wrapping your legs around his hips to maintain your balance as he lifted you, turning on his heel and carting you towards the desk. He quickly used a free hand to sweep aside the papers, flinging them to the floor in a confetti; he put you down hastily, keeping you close, the cold surface of the varnished wood biting at your bare skin.

He gave you a transitory respite, carefully checking your face before he went any further; likely ensuring you weren’t crying this time, that he hadn’t crossed an unspoken boundary. Whatever look you gave him in return was outside of your control or perception – but it was an invitation, evidently.

He dove down to kiss you again, but fleetingly – his savage lips trailed down from yours, biting their way along your jaw, down your neck, across your collarbone. You leaned back slightly on the desk to allow his avid venture, his ravenous mouth biting and suckling wherever it landed; drowning momentarily in the softness of your breast, cupping it with his wide hand to push the pillowy flesh against his face.

That wasn’t his final destination, though. His mouth only brushed over your nipple, sloppily kissing down your tensing stomach as he lowered himself to one knee, clutching your waist with both hands on his journey downward to hold you still. You felt your heart in your throat, in utter disbelief; you could only suck down jagged breaths as his lips grazed against your lower belly, just above your hip, teasing the elastic hem of your underwear. He gingerly kissed your mound through the thin cotton, controlling hands holding your hips by the bone.

Too rapacious to taunt you for long, he tugged sharply at the hips of your panties, leaning back so he could pull them down your thighs, over your knees, off your ankles. Your foot rested gently on his collarbone as he paused in apparent admiration, your exposed, spread pussy mere inches from his face; his breath despite its heat was cold against your wet, feverish skin. You felt embarrassed at his close inspection, his unashamed reverence – but his murky gaze broke away from your intimacy, instead meeting your eye. He wore an expression of unassailable pride, though cloaked in an avaricious hunger; he stared at you cruelly from under his brow, daring you to deny him.

Hitching your legs over his arms so that they rested on his shoulders, he clutched the side of your thigh with his mammoth hand while he pushed his lips into the inside of your leg, high enough, close enough, to make you quiver in desperate anticipation.

Piercing eyes still locked on yours, peering up from your eager flesh, his husky voice murmured deeply into your skin.

“Is this what you wanted?”

He jibed, almost a growl, as though teasing you for your recent behaviour – scolding you for acting out instead of asking for it, causing a scene instead of using your words like a grown-up.

Another kiss, higher, closer, teeth grazing the supple meat of your inner thigh, coarse beard prickling against the burning skin of the edge of your cunt.

You couldn’t think of the right answer, if there were such a thing, to his question – your head was by turn empty and running a million miles a minute. Really, you didn’t even know the answer.

Was it what you wanted?  This entire time? Has it been what you wanted since the last time, in his barrack in Urzikstan? Since the gala? Or, even, since you met him?

Your answer left your wet throat before you had the sense to question it, or rationalise it.

“Yes.”

You breathed, a whisper, barely, almost a squeak. You weren’t certain that it was the truth, either – but it was what you wanted now, so it was honest in some sense.

With firm hands he adeptly tugged your hips so you perched precariously on the very edge of the desk, allowing him ease of access to you.

He cruelly denied you still, placing maliciously soft kisses against the slit of your pussy, torturing you with only a light pressure while you willed him to dive deeper. An ardent whimper fled your chest, quiet and pleading.

Whatever carnivore he was doing his level best to restrain escaped its prison at your sheepish sound; his monstrous hands dug deep into the flesh of your hips, maw lunging forward and pointed tongue parting your slick folds like he was searching for water. It dipped into you only briefly, a momentary taste of the dripping syrup he seemed to take pride in inducing from you – before he used it to glide up to your clit where it was nestled. With ravenous lips he suctioned it into his mouth, devouring you; dextrously chafing your sensitive bud with a flat tongue, maintaining a vacuum that made a dangerously loud and needy moan escape your throat.

He only hastened his torment in response, drinking you like he might die of thirst, breathing heavily through his nose so as not to allow you even a second of relief from the unbearable suction. Feverish claws clasped at the top of his head, running through his short hair and scratching at his scalp, holding his head where you wanted it. Your head hung back off your shoulders, briefly staring at the panelled ceiling before your eyes unwittingly fluttered shut, doing your best to swallow the choked cries that threatened to make the whole army base aware of your depravity.

Your constricting legs inadvertently tried to push him away, your body overwhelmed and desperate for a break from his ruthless consumption, almost too oversensitive to be pleasurable – but not quite. He restrained you tightly, though, not allowing you to flee from him for even a second; his firm hands controlled your hips with an alarming strength, head moving with you as though predicting the direction of your attempts at escape, mouth not separating from you once.

One hand retreated from your side, but to quickly prevent your bucking his constraining arm slithered over your lower stomach, clutching the far hip and using his elbow to hold you down to the desk. His free thumb, then, crept to your cunt under his chin. Despite how slick your skin was, drenched in both your clear sap and his saliva; the clenching muscles of your vagina were squeezed so tightly he had to push his thumb into you with effort, almost popping as it broke past your resistant entrance.

That seemed to weaken his resolve, the tightness of your muscles clamping around him rhythmically, in tune with the burgeoning, forcible orgasm that threatened to crash over you like a tidal wave; he released a ragged, resigned exhalation into your skin. You felt yourself beginning to drown in it, that swirling ocean. The floor, the desk, the room sunk in it, slipping away from you as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, only him keeping you afloat.

But he stopped, then, thumb begrudgingly slipping out from inside you, suddenly releasing his merciless suction and separating his wet mouth from your yearning pussy. You groaned in dispute, cut short, a sharp rush of air escaping your overwrought lungs.

“Not yet.” He grunted hoarsely, barely audible.

Brows twisted in pleading frustration, you looked down at him, meeting his frightening glare as he pushed himself to stand; beard glistening with the wetness of you, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What?” You whined breathily, panting as you watched him tower upright, looming over you in licentious authority.

“I’m not having you come yet.”

His injunction was authoritarian, uttered darkly, his rumbling voice so hoarse it sounded animalistic; a growl, a threat. He stood between your legs, still, you watched in quiet, anticipating obedience as his livid hands tore at his belt. Ferociously unbuckling it, as though it would fight against him – he tugged open the button of his trousers, ripping down the fly and unsheathing his rigid cock from his straining boxers; menacing, it dropped heavy out of the elastic waistband, the solid shaft landing against your ravening cunt with a hard, wet slap.

You winced slightly at the sore impact, and his humanity seemed to return to him momentarily; softening face inches from yours, his attentive blue eyes scanned your features for reluctance.

“Tell me no.” He urged throatily, “tell me no, and I’ll stop.”

A shaky breath seeped through your lips, your delirious gaze flitting between his eyes, lashes fluttering as you processed his promise.

“I don’t want you to stop, Captain.” You uttered weakly, entreating.

His careful eyes darkened quickly at your bashful plea, watching your lips form the syllables of his rank like you were stroking him with it. His dominant hands returned to your hips, then, clutching at the bone and lifting your pelvis so it was angled right, just where he wanted it.

His clouded glare didn’t leave yours, his fingers dipping into your saturated pussy as though scooping the viscous fluid that dribbled from you; you watched, beguiled, as he rubbed your juices up the thick shaft of his cock, coating the head in it, briefly unable to stop himself from fucking his fist, huffing carnally, while he was lubricated by your watery come.

With a tug of your legs that were coiled around his hips, you grounded him, impatient; his sinister gaze met yours again, watching your wanton expression as he obliged you and dragged the soft head of his cock down your slit, the cruel pressure against your agitated clit making your body twitch. He restrained your spasm with his free hand your waist, keeping your pelvis still, as the tip of his length nestled between your lips, pressing against your clenching entrance.

Gripping himself by the stiff base, he pushed past your tight opening with his full weight; stretching it tautly around the girth of his cock as he stuffed you with it. You let out a pained squeak as it abruptly filled you, ramming against your cervix with a pressure that made you flinch.

The sharp soreness briefly frightened you – you had been deprived of the sensation of that angry thickness inside of you, ever since…

You didn’t let your mind go back there, not for a second; your eyelids shot open, desperate gaze sticking hurriedly to your Captain, his riled and yet gentle expression bringing you back to him, rugged but soft hands holding your hips as he impaled you on the length of him. You clutched the fabric of his jersey tight over his chest, gripping his arms, his shoulders; keeping him real, corporeal, there with you. He let out a strained grunt as he pulled you down onto him, as deep as your insides would allow him to go, to the hilt; he held you there, forcing you to squirm.

Your delicate hands held his warm neck, leaning forward as you pulled his head down to kiss him; mouth open and tongue desperate to taste him again, to feel his hot breath against your face, the soft scratch of his beard on your chin. He returned your kiss, tender, compassionate – a stark juxtaposition to his ruthless incursion; rutting into you powerfully but methodically, slow but hard, deep enough to be painful.

But the hurt was translated by your aroused nerves into a bestial pleasure, using your goading legs to pull him further into you, you felt his cock push against your aching organs. It raked against your sodden walls on its way out, a slight sting as it dragged along your taut opening – before filled you again, abrupt, sharp; it forced a sweet cry from your fevered chest into his mouth. He grinned arrogantly against your lips, a ragged, breathy chuckle taunted you in response.

You separated from him, then, lying back over the surface of the desk; you arched your back, angling your hips so that his length beat your walls more viciously, wrapping your legs around his waist and clutching at the edge of the desk above your head with straining claws. Exposed to him now, on display, his thrusting only increased in vehemence, speed, depth; carnivorous hands digging into the meat of your hips as if you might slip away from him, forcing you down on him with each rut.  

Eager for release, your fingers glided down your stomach, navigating diffidently to your clit; you drew wet circles over it, letting out a soft whine as you pleasured yourself with the rhythm of his accelerating thrusts.

“Shit.”

He groaned huskily at the sight of you fucking yourself on his cock, his face twisted into an exasperated rapture, forcing himself to slow down slightly so as not to push himself over the edge too quickly.        

He stopped you, hastily; a stern hand tightly ensnaring your wrist and tearing your fingers from you. He pulled your arm upward, pinning it firmly to the wooden surface underneath you, holding your hand by your head. He leaned over you, then, making you watch as he held his free hand to his lips, spitting lecherously into his fingertips; they found your clit without needing to look, stroking the oversensitive spot inexorably, the pressure cruel and unrelenting. His head hung from his shoulders, mouth landing against the hot skin of your shoulder, placing gentle kisses along your collarbone as he ruined you.

The union of the two sensations – his cock, hard as stone, fucking into your stomach, and merciless fingertips tormenting your swollen clit; it surged within you, frayed nerves electrocuting you as your inevitable orgasm loomed, its delay rendering it incensed and sorely overpowering.

He must have felt the muscles of your walls clamping down on the length of him as it dawned on you, the change in the music of your sounds; aching whines growing louder, crawling from your labouring throat.

“You gonna come on me, are ya? Beautiful thing?”

He growled into your skin, only increasing the severity of his torture, relentless in his goal to finish you.

Your delirious tongue was unable to form a word in response, only releasing a high-pitched and arduous cry as your unforgiving orgasm collided with you, waves of carnal heat pulsing from the base of you, the muscles of your bullied pussy clenching tightly around his avid cock.

“That’s it.”

He grinned against your neck as he kissed you there, moving with you, allowing no escape.

“Good girl.”

With no apparent intention of slowing down to offer you a reprieve, he instead began speeding up, forcing you to squirm and shriek in dispute at the overstimulation. Your desperate, animal fingers clawed at his wrist, struggling to tear his stiff hand away from your cunt – but he relented, eventually, falling victim to his own pleasure as he shifted his focus to fucking you harder, deeper.

He scooped an arm under your back, lifting you just slightly from the surface of the desk as he hovered over you; the other hand holding the bone of your hip tightly, keeping it steady while he rammed you. You listened in rapture to his grunts of ecstasy, gentle hands clutching the back of his neck, nails grazing his hot skin as you coaxed him to chase his own release.

You pressed soft lips into his bearded cheek, comforting, reassuring him; and that seemed to do the trick, bringing him too close.

“Fuck.”

He groaned hoarsely in begrudging pleasure as he paused, for just a hesitant second, before reluctantly tugging his cock out of you and slamming the wet shaft of it it against your mound.

You panted heavily, holding your forehead against his, relishing in the sensation of his hot come shooting over your stomach, painting you; it dribbled down your sides, down the creases of your hips, dangerously close to your cunt. He winced against you, twitching involuntarily as he pushed the last of his semen out of the head, drooling onto your febrile skin.

You kissed him, again; he tenderly pressed his lips against yours in return as he took the moment to catch his breath. His mouth left yours after a moment and landed in the crook of your neck, his heaving body hung over you, propped up by his elbows on the desk under you. You felt him kiss under your ear, his warm breath and prickling beard sending a shiver down the nape of your neck.

You wanted to say something, anything – but there were no words you could think of to offer him. Gratitude? An apology? Your brain was fried, fucked into pliable mush.

Instead you lay in silence, embracing him for as long as it would last, doing your best not to consider the consequences that lay ahead of you as a result of such an unbelievably foolish lapse in judgement.

He’d been your captain for only a few minutes, and you had fucked him already.

And yet you wished the moment could last infinitely; savouring his gentle lips as they planted drowsy kisses on your neck, tired hands caressing your waist in what felt like wordless praise, a silent gratitude.

Despite the reservations, the guilt, the doubts that stormed around you, deafening; your thoughts encircled only one thing, one source of comfort.

He was your Captain again.

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