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bywons · 3 months

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𝜗ৎ MIDNIGHT SHENANIGANS! (enhypen)

⌕ it's midnight, and you both can't catch any sleep, what to do now?

𖦹 pairing. bf!enhypen x f!reader w.c. 2.1k tw/cw. skinship, nicknames genre. fluff ( CATALOGUE!? ) sru's note procrastinated big time on this one :) hope y'all enjoy this!

heeseung (이희성) 、 both of you are bored, your favourite tv show no longer being able to keep you both entertained or make you laugh till your stomachs ached. it fades into the background, slowly becoming a faint backdrop noise for your half tedious and half weary bodies tangled with each other on the couch.

"'this season just got boring", you yawn, pushing yourself closer to heeseung's broad and warm chest while his hand strokes your back, "i wonder if the next season would be bett—"

"right now the only thing you should wonder about is to get some sleep", heeseung's bored interruption causes he formation of a small frown on your face as you sit up beside him.

"you know im a night owl, hee", you sigh, angling your neck up to meet his eyes looking softly down at yours, "hmm, why don't you serenade me? pretty boy?"

heeseung reciprocates your smirk and clears his throat to sing his lover to sleep, before he can get some himself.

or so he thought. his serenade attempt soon turned to a session of singing competition after you sang the next line to a song heeseung didn't really like.

the silent living room soon gets filled with heesung's serene voice and your attempts at singing, and every time heeseung has a voice crack you mock him, laughing and falling onto his lap. your silly little singing competition continues until you both fall asleep in each other's embrace in the couch.

but nobody thanks the tv show, which still runs in the background and serenades both of you to sleep.

jay (박종성) 、 you thought your boyfriend jay wouldn't notice your absence or the slow sink and rise of the soft bed mattress beside him, and you would slip away from his loose hold and stand idly in front of the open fridge in the dark, totally forgetting your initial plan.

but then a sudden husky, sleepy, familiar voice startles you, "what are you doing there, love?"

the orange light emerging from inside the fridge illuminates your dull white tee, and accentuates jay's hands around the waistline of your joggers soon enough.

jay presses soft kisses along your neck, whispering, "are you hungry?"

"and bored", you huff.

"then let's cook something together yeah?", jay suggests before putting on his cooking apron and helping you with yours.

you have absolutely no idea on how to prepare the apple pie 'cause after all you're jay's girlfriend! he pampers you too much and cooks everything you like for you, so naturally you stood still in the middle of the kitchen, your time passing by yapping to your boyfriend and handing him the ingredients.

jay adds to your little rants, whilst single-handedly baking the apple pie, but with your little necessary helps tho <3

and when the apple pie is finally done, jay cuts the biggest portion for you, letting you taste it first.

the clock ticks by and the dull kitchen is filled by your hungry munching mouths and lovelorn eyes, jay and you enjoying each other's presence even in the boring hour at midnight.

this is bound to become a memory.

jake (심자연) 、 "but i didn't watch la la land!" "but i did!"

you guys were supposed to select a movie to watch like an hour ago now, but obviously it can't go smoothly without your usual bickering.

the night grows darker and your usual bedtime is in the long past, it's almost 1 o'clock, and both of you just wanted the movie marathon night to be over already, but not without selecting a movie you both would enjoy. and that seems impossible at this rate.

"be so for real right now, what do you really wanna watch jake?", you are losing your patience by the minute now, you only ever call him by his name when you are either annoyed or fed up by him. your eyes are threatening to close any second and you want to either a) watch a movie and cuddle to sleep with your boyfriend or b) just give everything up and sleep already.

"whichever you wanna watch", hearing this from your boyfriend makes your temper rise even more. and alas, you both agreed on something you both hate— horror movies.

ah yes, bodies huddling together with eyelids dropping to make your visions blurry and indefinite, as if it would make the movie any less scary. jake's arms pull you into a close hug as he whispers, "i t-think we should skip this part babe", to the most important part of the story.

both of you flinch at the low growl from the monster like entity in the movie. and to even make the atmosphere scarier, y'all jumped and screamed— almost waking up the neighbours —when both of you mistook layla's bark as some monster.

"babe, i think we should sleep", and that marks the end of your movie night, not even 30 minutes into the movie and your bodies are covered by the white duvet, cuddling close to each other.

such bravehearts, eh?

sunghoon (박성훈) 、 as soon as you step back after pressing the record button on your phone, sunghoon comes sprinting and sweeps you by your feet and twirls you out of the recording frame.

"ugh, hoonie!", you whine with upturned lips and kicking feet, with your boyfriend holding you up with his strong arms, "you entered at the wrong moment!"

"did i?", sunghoon was confused at first, but that expression soon wipes off his face when his eyes fall upon your pouty one. he smirks, "i don't think there's any wrong or right moment for me to pick you up in my arms, darling."

your twitching lips betray you. it opposes your expressions and matches your feelings, you couldn't help but smile down at your boyfriend who's already having heart eyes for you, and you feel blood rushing up to the tip of your ears.

"ok but do it properly this time hoon", you giggle. sunghoon lets you down to your feet, watching you run over to your phone again, resetting the tiktok recording.

this time you had to do it right, after all this can't go on till the sun peeks over the horizon and decides to wish you a good morning.

but as they say, third times the charm. this time the tiktok came out perfectly, just as you wanted to; with you looking over to the side before getting snatched away by your boyfriend in a lightening speed, and off the camera sunghoon presses soft kisses on your cheeks, soft hushed giggles filling the otherwise serene room. little affectionate moments meant only for you <3

and now the clock's almost hitting 1 am, hanged above your heads, under which the both of you scrolled past all the numerous, silly tiktoks you filmed. some with choreographies and planned lip syncs, and others just crack videos of you two, which the tiktok community will probably not see.

the night grows deeper and so does your love, but alongside the bag under your eyes </3

sunoo (김선우) 、 the pink clay mask feels cold on your skin, as you srunch up your face while sunoo applies it on you.

"don't do that, it can leave wrinkles!",sunoo exclaims although he moves his whole face a little too much with the half dry clay mask sitting cold on his own skin.

"oh, so i see how it is," you sigh, making a face full of faux melancholy, "you will not love me anymore once im all wrinkly and old."

"you know that's not true", with a clink sunoo keeps down the applicator on the washroom marble top, he swears he would pull you in the most endearing kiss if you two didn't have this pink moist layer on your faces, "and to answer your question, yes. i would still love you if you were a worm."

"but i didn't ask that question?!" "i know you would eventually."

you smile ear to ear, small wrinkles forming on the corners of your eyes as they squint and curve. sunoo's previous suggestion is completely ignored by you, and he himself doesn't abide by it, striking you a bright grin.

this little skincare session could've waited till the sunrise but what to say, your boredom took over and the next thing you know is doing each other's skincare routine.

"i love this face mask. it's pink and lavender scented", you mumbled to yourself, picking up the container sunoo just put down.

"but i don't smell lavender?", a frown forms on sunoo's face quickly as he scrunched up his nose, smelling the container lid again. and when he snatches the container from you and reads all over it, his eyes circle into horror.

"wait", he whispers, his face falling, "....is this expired?!"

jungwon (장정원) 、 "I can't sleep", you whisper while rolling over and practically letting all your body weight on your boyfriend laying next to you.

"me too", he sighs, tackling your body to his side of the bed and holding you close.

but the next thing you know is that you have your boyfriends blue and white hoodie on, standing in the middle of a random aisle in the 24/7 supermarket. you watch jungwon surf through the different snacks showcased in the aisle, and no matter how much he would compliment a different snack he would still buy the same chocolate strawberries.

"so what are we here for again?", sighing, you stand next to jungwon as he carefully reads the ingredients on the back of a cookie box, which you don't think will eventually make it's way to the empty shopping basket.

"weren't we bored? plus we can't sleep", jungwon mumbles and surprises you as he tosses the vanilla cookie box into the shopping basket.

"woah", your mouth forms an 'o' shape along with your eyebrows moving up, "what happed to the regular chocolate strawberries?"

"well i guess it's time for a change!", jungwon puts on a smug smile, knowing you despise vanilla cookies. but you are no better. you nod your head and your hands find their way to the mint chocolate ice cream box soon enough, "if you want vanilla cookies then i want mint choco."

"oh that's not happening", jungwon rolls his eyes, chasing after you down the aisle. "if you don't want it to happen then put down the cookies!", you give back an even meaner eye roll.

the supermarket total had six people inside it, including half asleep cashier and a punk teenager trio. they watched you enter and now they stood watching you both bickering, with jungwon insisting on the getting the cookies and you not letting go of the mint chocolate tub.

but at the end the basket is indeed carrying the chocolate strawberries to the counter, with your scowls turned into happy, content faces and bodies clinging to each other in the cold night.

riki (니시무라니키) 、 you have been urging riki for as long as forever, to go on a painting date in one of those aesthetic eat and draw cafés.

but our guy riki is efficient. he agrees yes, but on a random thursday. at quater to 1 am. in your house. on the already messy floor. instead of preparing for your final terms next weeks, you are busy painting each other in the most hilarious way possible.

"this is gonna be the bestest portrait of you, ever", riki chortles as he gathers his knees upto his chest, hiding his canvas behind them.

"uhh nobody has ever drawn a portrait of me?"

"that's why i'm the best boyfriend", he says proudly.

you already know what's going on on his canvas. last time he drew you, you could hardly recognize yourself except your outfit. you expect quite the same outcome for this time as well.

"ta-daaa~", riki finally reveals his long awaited portrait of you. you giggle at it and crawl your way to sit beside him. this one melts your heart, on the canvas riki doodled you and all your favourite stuff— from sanrio characters to ramen bowls, cats, skirts, coffee cups to even a small nishimura riki at the corner. he chirps, "how is it?"

you reply to him by pressing a kiss to his cheeks, watching them turn redder by the second. "cutest thing ever", you mumble, resting your head on his shoulders.

riki ruffles your hair and presses his cheek on top of your head.

but of course, this beautiful moment had to be ruined because you can't catch a breathe. your phone rings with a notification beside you and when you take a look at it, your back is straightened and a scowl takes upon your face.

"really now?! they preponded the exam!"

"o-oh no baby when is it?", a worried riki asks.

"tomorrow is my calculus paper!"

(📌) :: TAGLIST IS OPEN! @euncsace @aueyi @leaderwon @dimplewonie @yrhome @heartswonn @jwonistic @aaasia111

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neet-elite · 8 months

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Party For Two — (SDV) Sebastian

Pairing: Sebastian/ Reader Genre: Smut 18+ WC: 6,077 Warnings: Love confession, mutual masturbation, premature ejaculation, creampie, fingering Synopsis: Sam promised to watch the episode himself, all bundled up under blankets in his own living room— Sebastian knows his best friend is probably practicing guitar instead, and Abigail will be too stubborn to give up gaming for a show she can catch up on when you ramble about it in the group chat later. Still, there’s comfort in the space they’ve provided him, his chest warm and gaze half-lidded as you press play, the shows intro sequence filling the remaining small space left between two bodies.

He’d like to fill that space with himself, eventually.

A/N: Crossposting this from my AO3. I wont be reposting every fic, but the most "recent" that seem to be popular. For my full catalogue then find my AO3 account in my pinned.

It’s the usual hang out night, held at your farmhouse this time round because you insisted on doing your fair share of hosting, only, Sebastian can’t help but feel that it’s anything but usual. What was meant to be a four person TV series watch has now turned into a party for two. Sam, currently sick with allergies and Abigail, busy trying (and most likely failing) to beat ‘Journey Of The Prairie King’— something that Sebastian is sure will take more than one night of attempts, she’s already been stuck on it for a week... And well, he can’t really fault Sam for not wanting to make anyone else sick. If anything, he’s thankful to be the only one to show up besides you. It’s not really that bad of a turn out, not when he’s been secretly wanting to spend more alone time with just you and him anyway. Because see, he’s always been interested in you ever since you first came to the valley, and it’s as time’s went on and you slowly assimilated into his little trio friend group that he found himself thinking: yeah, four is a better number anyway. A small crush, he tells himself. Nothing serious, he jokes with Sam. No I wasn’t staring, he whispers to Abi. But deep down, he knows exactly what he feels, and as you finally come back into your living room with excitement in your eyes he knows it to be true— he wants to see that face every day going forward.

“Sorry for the wait!” You smile, his eyes drawn to your blushed cheeks when your attention is immediately focused on the TV in front of you. Tonight seems like a good time to confess, because while he certainly wants to do other things with you, it’d be rude not to make his intentions clear in the first place. To be a gentleman, and at the very least provide courtesy before anything else, smiling warmly back at you while you busy yourself with getting comfortable next to him. He likes you, and he’d be a fool not to take advantage of the opportunity right in front of him. Alone, with you. There really isn’t a better scenario to confess in, is there?

“S’all right,” He half-grunts as he repositions himself to be more facing sideways so that he can keep looking at your pretty face, as he always does. “You ready for the next episode?”

“Yes!” You beam back at him, remote control in your hand as you glance at him for what he thinks is a final time tonight before starting the weekly show, so he does his best to respond in kind. It’s one that the group had decided to watch together, and though Sebastian wasn’t that interested in the premise, he did enjoy the thought of spending more time with you, which is why he mostly agreed to join in the first place. He’s grown to like the show more anyway, though he’s unsure if that’s down to the (honestly, pretty mediocre) cinematography or because he gets to stare at you for an extended period of time each week. Lovingly, of course, he’d hate to come off as a creep. Always cautious about his looking, but feeling unable to control his desires for too long before he’s eyeing you up and down again. He always waits to dive deeper into his thoughts of you until he’s home at least, mostly because he can’t stand the thought of popping a boner in front of so many people and to be left unable to live it down for the rest of his life, but also because he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable at all. Would rather the boner scenario to making you feel any negativity in any capacity. “I’m so glad Sam and Abi said it was cool to continue, I’ve been waiting all week to see what happens next!”

Ah, yeah, the romantic plot line or… Something. It’s difficult to pay attention to the current story when his vision is so full of you each week, but he’s heard you chat about it enough to get a good idea of what to expect next. The protagonist and her love interest, finally, seemingly getting together. It’s cute to see you so invested in something, and he too finds himself thankful that his friends have allowed the continuation of the series in the privacy of a company of two. “Yeah, real nice of them, huh?” He continues out of pleasantries, knowing just how much you wanna get started. Sam promised to watch the episode himself, all bundled up under blankets in his own living room— Sebastian knows his best friend is probably practicing guitar instead, and Abigail will be too stubborn to give up gaming for a show she can catch up on when you ramble about it in the group chat later. Still, there’s comfort in the space they’ve provided him, his chest warm and gaze half-lidded as you press play, the shows intro sequence filling the remaining small space left between two bodies.

He’d like to fill that space with himself, eventually.

Even during the admittedly drawn out intro you’re cutely engrossed, the glow from the TV shining in your eyes so prettily, like there were stars or something, and he cringes at his sappy internal monologue. You’re still far more interesting to watch than whatever the screen is currently showing, and he takes his time when committing every detail of you to memory tonight. The innocent way your eyes are glued to the screen, the unknowing smile on your face as your favorite character shows on screen, the way you edge just slightly off your seat as if to get closer, closer to the screen instead of his arms. He huffs impatiently, low and quiet to himself at the thought. What he wouldn’t give to have you in his lap instead, he’d even still let you watch your favorite show, so long as he could hold you. Softly touching you, kissing the top of your head as a reminder that you are wanted. So deep in his thoughts of you that he doesn’t even realize how much time has passed— it can’t be that much— but he distinctly hears a moan that drags him back to reality. A soft but sinful one, his head snapping to the source of the sound as his cheeks instinctively flush. It’s coming from the TV, an intimate sex scene including those two characters you like so much. Already? He thinks to himself, so much for tension, before he finds his eyes once again falling on you, and he gasps a little at the sight that greets him.

Too many times he’s spent lonely late nights imagining exactly how you look right now, curled up in on yourself as you avert your gaze from the screen with an almost shy look on your face. Honestly, he never thought you’d ever optionally look away when this show was on, but he thinks you’re embarrassed. A sneaky smirk plastered on his face at the realization. It is a little awkward to be watching a sex scene with your friends, he can admit that. But he finds it difficult to feel uneasy himself, too amused at the way you clear your throat as the moans continue to fill the otherwise silence of your living room, keeping his vision locked on you to see exactly how you react to the explicit scene playing out with curiosity. Something he can use again you in the future.

“We can skip past it, if you want.” He offers before really thinking, his heart pace quickening as he tries his best to resolve your discomfort. Sure, it’s fun to watch you struggle, but all he wants is for you to be happy. “Really, I don’t mind—”

“No, it’s— I mean, it’s okay, really.” You stumble over your words, flashing him an appreciative smile before lowering your head once more to the ground.

Well, okay, he thinks. You’re clearly struggling to get through the scene, and though he’d rather you welcomed his help with open arms, he doesn’t mind watching you grow increasingly riled up by the exaggerated gasps and sighs from the show. In his more perverted mind, it’s easy to imagine that he’s watching porn with you right now, a quick look back at the TV screen shows naked bodies rolling around together, sharp inhales and teasing giggles. He wonders if you’d react the same way to him, then just as promptly he corrects himself and knows he’d have you moaning louder than that. And deep down in the pit of his stomach, or a bit lower than that, he feels as though this is his chance to show you that fact too, sighing to himself as he tries to resolve his inner conflict— and obviously fails. Because it’s about you, and he hasn’t a hope in Hell when it comes to you.

“You sure?” His voice is soft, spoken lightly and carried with faux reassurance while his hand stretches out to meet your trembling thigh, sucking air in through his teeth at the way you jump from his touch. “I don’t mind, cause it seems to be… Getting to you, y’know?” He smirks through his words, knowingly teasing you despite his heart wanting nothing more than to soothe. Can’t help it, you’re too cute like this, all blushy and pouty thanks to his words. And given the chance, he’ll do more than just soothe things for you anyway, so he doesn’t feel too bad in his taunts. He notices your thighs squeeze together in response to his words, or maybe it’s because of his feather light touch, he doesn’t mind either way. Regardless, his cock stirs in his tight pants at just how easy you seem to be, how innocent and sensitive you’re acting, shying away from his view at just how quickly he’s picked up on the state of you. You like this scene, maybe a little too much, huh? Not that he’s complaining, his own heart racing at just the light drag of his knuckles up and down your leg, catching the way you shiver into him, the small bite of your lip that causes his cock to jerk against his leg. Ah, maybe confessing can wait a little bit longer.

It takes him a moment to find his voice again when you refuse to answer, and he’s surprised to hear the breathy tone he carries with his words— “You can… Y’know, deal with it, if ya want.” He pauses, gauging your reaction to his invitation to touch yourself. Internally, he’s debating on his next words with extreme caution. Sure, it’s normal to masturbate, everyone does it, everyone knows everyone does it. But, is it too weird to talk about it with your friends? Maybe only if they’re the opposite gender, right? Because he’s had countless conversations about the topic with Sam, but never with Abigail. And he realizes then that it’s because he’s got a crush on you, and rather than it being an invitation, it’s an attempt at begging. “Really, I don’t mind.” He simply settles on, smiling reassuringly at you when your eyes finally meet his. And it’s true, he doesn’t mind, would relish the opportunity to relieve himself in private too if he’s honest— the look you’re giving him going straight to his cock as he imagines fucking his friend right on the very couch you sit on.

And then quietly, almost inaudible, he hears you squeak: “Really? You’re okay with that?” and he all too eagerly nods.

“Absolutely. Who am I to judge what you get off to, right?” He half laughs, attempting to make the otherwise awkward situation just a bit less embarrassing for you, shifting in his seat to hopefully make his hard cock less noticeable. “Take your time, I’ll be right here—”

Oh, wait, you’re undressing right in front of him? Instinctively, he looks at your face for answers, a quick flit up only to be met with a playful grin. Seductive, maybe? He knows better than to assume, though more than that, he knows better than to speak up when your crush is taking the first step towards assumed intimacy. Well, there’s no hiding his hard on now, is there? Your bold actions causing his pants to feel even tighter, his hands frozen in his lap while he carefully watches you peel off each individual layer of clothing slowly. So slowly that he’s convinced you’re teasing him, the continued gasps and groans emanating from the TV fading into the distant background as he instead favors listening to the soft shuffles of your clothes, the muffled thud as they’re dropped carelessly to your floor. Fuck, he already thought you were pretty before, but seeing you take action like this almost makes him dizzy with how attractive he finds you, and his inability to take the initiative back from you due to how in awe he is of your body only further turns him on. He knows you know well enough that he hadn’t meant to take care of “business” right here and now, in front of him on your well worn couch, but he can hardly complain at how you chose to mischaracterize his words when he’s no better than you are right now. “I—” he tries to speak. “I mean— fuck, okay—” He’s laughing, though not at you, and your cheeky side smirk back at him lets him know you understand.

“Is this okay?” You whisper at him.

“Shit, yeah, no, it’s cool. I— I don’t mind, go ahead.” He struggles to get the words out fast enough, but he smiles back at you when hearing your nervous giggle.

Without realizing, he anxiously runs his hand through his hair, thumbing stray strands out his face so he has a better view of your revealing body. The last item of clothing drops and he exhales harshly, unaware of the breath he was holding up until that point. You’re naked bar your underwear, and he curses low under his breath at the mere sight. This is confirmation, isn’t it? That his feelings aren’t just one sided, that he was taking too long to confess and so your hand was metaphorically forced, swallowing hard at the sight of your hand actually dropping to pet lightly at your clothed cunt. “Fuck y’can’t just— I mean I want you to it’s just—” He’s already gasping, replaying scenarios he’s fucked his fist to at night but coming up empty. Nothing compares to you right now, the cute blush on your cheeks, the way your lips part with heavy breathing. Shit, okay, he needs to tell you exactly how he feels. Wide palmed stroking at his painfully hard cock, no shame left in his system when you’ve just given him a wordless go ahead, he’s ready to cum just from your show of want— but he instead just teases himself. Wants to really show his appreciation of you soon enough, but first he needs to take control back. You’ve had your fun, now let him.

He clears his suddenly dry throat while you angle yourself towards him, biting your lip to presumably stifle moans. No, don’t do that, he thinks, cocky confidence taking over his mind with the understanding that you’re waiting, seeking his command like a good girl— and he’s all too happy to give in to you. Watching you drag a single finger up and down your clothed slit idly, eyeing at the growing wet patch near the bottom, fuck he wants a taste— “You can take em off.” He quickly glances up at you, but as if physically pulled back down, he’s drawn to look at your cunt again, his palm circling against the clothed wet tip of his cock as he leaks precum all over the inside of his pants for you.

And though he’s controlled mostly by his cock right now, he’s still a little surprised to see you listen to his words, his voice coming out in a shocked rasp of “Fuck, you’re really doing it…” which is less of a question and more of an admiration. Because yes, while this is the single hottest thing to ever happen to him, he also genuinely likes you. Wants to be with you for more than just this, but a little indulgence never hurt anyone, right? Seems you agree from how eagerly you get moving, his eyes glued to the spot between your legs as you hike them up a little, knees pressed to your chest to give him such a good fucking view, oh my God, of your pretty little cunt before your panties peel and drop to the pile of your other clothing on the floor. His cock hard and wet, drooling over his legs enough to prompt him into at least unbuttoning his pants to offer just a little relief— only a little. Because he’s more focused on you right now, and how pretty your thighs look when pressed together like that, and how tasty your wet little cunt looks as he finds it difficult to keep himself sat in place at the other end of the couch from you, wanting only to dive head first between your legs to eat you dry— he’s never been hornier than he is right now, and it’s all your fault. He’s got front row seats to the best show in the house— you, and he’s filled with need to show you that you’re a lot hotter than whatever they were showing on TV.

“Touch yourself, please— God,” He ends up begging, too turned on to really care for the embarrassment of sounding so needy, and it seems you’re much the same. A small whine escaping your lips that, he swears, almost makes him cum on the spot. So completely fraught with need for you right now that his body automatically turns to face you, one leg bent and pressed against the back of the couch while the other hangs off the edge, his rock hard cock front and center for you to masturbate to— no regret present on his features as he looks to your moving fingers with glazed over eyes, his mouth remaining slightly agape while he breathes shallowly. This is so much better than anything his mind could create, his chest tight with want for you and his balls full of seed, the palm resting on his cock now digging harder, circling his cock faster in a plead to have you match his pace. You must know what you do to him, otherwise you wouldn’t be taking your time so slowly, bitting on the inside of his cheek with impatience until your finger finally meets your slit and your legs magically open. And fuck, what a sight that is. His hips jut up on their own accord once you’re in position, head tilted back slightly as if to try and calm himself down before snapping back to watch you part your lips and drag a finger from bottom to top on your slit.

No amount of porn could have prepared him for this, the intimacy present in each glide of your finger up and down your cunt, collecting the slick drooling from your hole to drag it back up to your clit. He can hear just how wet you are, heart caught in his throat as he swallows thickly in concentration. “You’re not watching the show…” You mewl, and he has half a mind to pin you under him right there and then.

“Don’t care, this is better.” He’s quick to moan. “Can you— Can you go a little faster?”

You nod, and he has to fight with himself to keep his eyes from rolling back into his skull at the sweet sounds you let out at the increased pace. His fist wraps tight around the bit of cock he can reach before he grows immediately frustrated and instead digs his hands under his pants to free his cock some more, sighing into the relaxed feeling of freedom until he once again starts to palm at himself— then he’s tight lipped groaning. He feels like a dirty pervert, touching himself to you touching yourself, and he wonders if you feel the same. He thinks you should feel like royalty, the full effect you have on him in clear display as he touches himself to you, struggles to keep his hands to himself when you sound so pretty for him. And you’re such a good listener too, his cock jerking to the understanding that you want to please him too, fucking your little cunt faster as per his words, your palm sticky with slick that he wants to lick all clean for you.

He can’t hold back much longer.

“Do you mind if I—?” He asks, alluding to his cock as he nods down to it— still clothed, still rock hard and needy, still leaking precum, still wanting to be balls deep in you.

A quick nod of your head and he’s pulling his pants off faster than he’s ever done in his life, boxers coming with them as he clumsily tugs them off enough to kick them the rest of the way, throwing them into his own pile of clothing on the floor to half match your state of nakedness. He hisses into the cold air that kisses his tip once free, almost moaning as it slaps against his tummy with how rigid he is. “So fuckin’ hard—” He hums, mostly to himself, but he’s happy you’ve heard him too given the soft moan you let out too. “Look at what you did to me, fuck, what you do to me—” He praises you, leaning back against the armrest of your couch to fuck his hips forward, just a little, as if to really show off just how much he wants you, his fist quickly connecting to the base of his cock before he’s dragging it upwards to collect the copious amounts of precum you’ve pulled out of him and pulling back down, coating his whole length wet to tug at. And he’s not shy about it either, too far gone with the lust pooling in his tummy to care much for anything other than the need to get off, to get off with you. As he always does, really, even if most nights he’s alone in doing so, but now’s his opportunity to show you how much he likes you— cock hard and ready just for you, because of you.

He doesn’t mind an audience as he jacks off, so long as that audience consists of you. Hurriedly fucking his fist to a desperate tempo to try and quell the butterflies that fill his chest every time you make a sound, pulling the hem of his hoodie up to reveal some of his toned tummy for you to gawk at, to somewhat return the favor. God, you sound better than he thought you would, his own moans caught and quiet as he does his best to instead make room for you, to listen intently, ignoring the loud schlick of his fist pumping up and down on his dribbling cock and rather focusing on the wet squelch of your little cunt. How fast your fingers fuck into yourself, how he hopes to God you’re thinking of him, wanting to replace your fingers for his cock as he so urgently needs to. No words are said, not that he can think of any anyway— head empty and replaced with primal need, wanting moans shared among friends as he gets off with you. How he wishes he could speak though, to tell you how hot you are, how he’s dreamed of this for so long, how he’s so close to cumming just from watching you— doesn’t even have to be touched by you, just being in your presence is enough to get him off. And he’s focusing so hard on the way you flick at your clit, how fastly you circle against it, learning exactly what you like so he can hopefully mimic it at a later date all while he’s thrusting into his tightly closed fist and mumbling your name like some sort of prayer.

He’s getting dangerously close, and he hasn’t even been able to appreciate you like you deserve, show you exactly how he feels about you. And so—

“You wanna— wanna ride me?” He ends up choking out, acting out of pure instinct and talking before fully realizing his words, eyes rolling to the back of his head despite his best efforts when instead of verbally responding, you start climbing towards him. All of it happens so fast, his knees buckling and straightening out on the couch, sliding further down the length of it so that only his head remains on the armrest and you have plenty room to sit on top. His hands work on autopilot, finding home on your hips to help steady you above his lap as your nails rake up his tummy, digging under his hoodie to drag it further up his chest, causing him to moan into the hunger of your actions. Urgency is what he feels, desperate for the feeling of you wrapped around him as you immediately take hold of the base of his cock as soon as you can, his hips bucking into your touch to seek the tightness of your hole, unable to stop the tense moans tumbling from his open mouth. “Fuck, that’s it, guide it in— Sit on it, yeah?” he hopelessly babbles, fingers digging into the fat of your waist to try and pull you down his cock as you catch the tip to your hole— and then he’s done for. Completely at your mercy as you slow the tempo down, gradually fucking more of his length into your little cunt with subtle bounces until he’s all the way inside and he can finally breathe again. It’s difficult keeping himself held back enough not to hurt you when you feel better than anything he’s experienced before, his jaw strained and appreciative moans high-strung as he wills his hips to still for a second or two, let you grow accustomed to his fat length.

It takes him a second to actually collect his breath though, mind clouded by how tight and warm you are wrapped around his stupidly hard cock— so much so that it’s impossible to form any coherent thought as you sit flush on his lap. “No idea.” He manages to mumble, groaning at the seductive way your breathe huh? in response. Causes his hips to fuck upwards into you regardless of his best efforts, trying to thrust deeper into your tiny hole until there’s nothing left for you to take and grinding his hips against you. “You’ve got no idea how much I’ve wanted this, fuck.” His hands dragging your waist down to circle you on his cock for you, doing all of the heavy lifting simply because he can’t stop. “Can’t believe I’m fuckin’ inside of you, shit, y’feel so good—” he continues to gasp, his ass lifted off the couch under him to really drive his cock further into you. The action causing you to whine his name so perfectly, so sweetly as he circles his cock in you that he’s forced into more movement. Like something inside of him snaps, the last remaining resolve he has to treat you right falling the moment he hears his name sounding like that. And then he’s going, his beg for you to ride him thrown out the window as soon as he thrusts once into you, instead forcing you to fall back down on his cock with every precise hump of his cock into you, bouncing you up and down at his own pace due to how powerful and needy his thrusts are. You’re not riding him so much as he’s fucking you from below, keeping you pinned close to his cock so that he’s barely exiting your perfect cunt despite humping you into the air. He holds on to you like his life depends on it, a droning whine escaping his lips at the increased friction he fucks into you with, spilling loads of precum against your insides that inevitably end up running back down his cock with each speedy thrust. And your tits, God your fuckin’ tits, hypnotized by they way they bounce with his fucks— so badly does he want to reach out and grab one of em, drag it into his mouth for him to feed on while he fucks you raw— fuck he’s fucking you raw. A rough growl clawing up his throat at the thought, feels too fucking good to warn you of his predicament, can’t stop fucking into you like he was under a spell.

A shuddered “Tight little cunt, yeah? Feel s’fuckin’ good, shit— Look so hot riding me like this—” cut off only by a gasp at the sound of you so needy for more, his cock throbbing inside of you with want to preform but he’s so close it almost pains him to hold back. He was right, you are louder than the show girl, self assurance running through him and going right to his tip with the confidence that he’s fucking you better, the loud skin on skin slap resonating in the room to drown out whatever is left of the TV. He’s never felt so good before in his life, unable to even imagine going back to a life of just his hand now that he’s had a taste of your cunt, the feeling of your legs squeezing around him as you attempt to match his speed only to inevitably fail from how frantically he thrusts into you from below is too fucking cute, his balls tight and taut as he nears his end before he’s even truly started: something that would be embarrassing if not for the fact that he hopes you understand it’s because you really do feel that fucking good and he’s genuinely that in love with you that he can’t— he can’t hold back any longer. Fucking his dream girl while she displays herself so completely on top? The sight of your tits, your cute scrunched up face, the feeling of your cute little cunt sucking his cock so well? Yeah, there’s no way he was gonna last very long.

“Sorry— M’sorry, babe—” he whines, a high pitched sound to match his eager humps as he’s unable to stop the predictable from happening, looking directly into your eyes in hopes of communicating just how badly he wants to make it up to you immediately following as he thrusts into you a couple more times, fast and hard, burying himself completely into you before shooting a fat load deep inside your tiny cunt. A soft sob of your name followed by loud, gasped moans, like he’s forgot how to breathe again, his hips still obsessively humping into you to prolong his orgasm— the best of his life, might he add— and to fuck his cum deeper into you in some sort of innate need to claim you, insides and all. He said he was sorry, but he isn’t really. Not even when you let out a pathetic whine from the loss of stimulation, promising you: “Jus’ a minute, gimmie a sec.” With harsh pants as he allows himself to come down just enough to move back into action. He wants to act fast, to build upon what he’s just promised you.

“C’mere,” he breathlessly pleads with you, signaling for you to hop off his cock for a moment, forgetting all about the mess his cum will surely stain into your couch. “Jus’ sit right there, trust me.”

And because you’re a good girl, you listen, and he tuts affectionately down at you to soothe the pout you’re sporting. “Lean back a bit for me, yeah? Let me apologize.” He whispers, soft and flirtatiously, helping to guide you into position on your back, similar to how he was just moments ago while he hovers over you. The confused stare you look back at him with is so cute, and he can feel his mushy affection for you edge back in as his cock controlled brain starts to calm down, now focused solely on making sure you’re seen to as his dominant hand dips and disappears between your legs. Not a second later and he’s collecting the dripping cum he’s just fucked into you from your hole, using it as lube to rub gently at your clit as you look at him with shock. “Told ya.” He smiles, rubbing soothingly at your inner thigh with his free hand while he strokes your puffy clit. “Sensitive girl, made me feel so good, fuck— Y’look so pretty like this,” he dotes on you, hoping his words will help you get off where his cock failed— though he doesn’t think you mind too much. Not with how your grasping so insistently to his loose hoodie for stability, or from the way your legs wriggle and draw him closer, the room filled with your enticing moans each time he completes a circle on your clit. Now, with a clearer head and with you quite literally in the palm of his hand, he coos down at you with intent. “Think I love you. Really.” And he can’t stop the loving smile that tugs on his lips, nor the surprised sigh that sneaks up on him as he feels your locked thighs tremble around his back.

Next time, he’ll have you cumming on his cock. He has to, the sight of your back arching into him, the lewd expression you wear so well with the voiceless moan, fuck, he can feel his cock harden again just from pleasing you. His heart full at the thought that hearing his confession is what finally made you cum, humming quietly down to you while he finger fucks you through your high, thumb still rubbing lightly against your used clit while you gush for him— “So pretty, good girl.” He compliments you, praising you for a job well done in getting him off and satisfying his need to see you finish, too. It’s all he wants, really. To make you happy by any means necessary, and he’s happy to fill the role you had him play tonight any day, gently helping you come down from your high with slowly decreased movements until you lazily smile back at his adoring expression.

“Feelin’ good?” He asks calmly, because he obviously knows the answer already, but he wants to check in with you regardless.

You nod sleepily, followed by a soft “Mhm, thank you.” Before reaching you arms out for him to lean into, and he enthusiastically gives you what you’re seeking, his half hard cock resting against your sticky cunt as he wraps his arms around you too, pulling you in for a tight hunched over hug on your (now) stained couch.

Better than any show ever, he’s sure.

“I meant it, y’know.” He whispers against your neck after a silent moment, nosing further into it until he’s able to place a few light kisses against your heated skin with a smile.

“I know.” You reply, and he can’t help but remain hopeful when you squeeze his body tighter, wrapping your legs around him further to ask for more closeness. “But you made me miss my favorite show, so…”

He laughs a genuine, deep, bark of laughter against your shoulder before he huffs defiantly, pulling himself off your exhausted body with the intent on chastising you for alluding to the fact that your show is better than his sex, but he can’t find any strength left in him to tell you off after catching sight of how pretty you are when all fucked out. So instead, “I know, I’m sorry.” He relents, sitting back into his original side of the couch to stretch out a bit. “We can try watching again after a shower, if you want?”

“Yeah.” You yawn, and his heart hurts with just how much he loves you. The simplistic domesticity of the moment getting to his head as you extend a hand for him to hold, to help you get to your feet. “I’d like that.”

He’ll just have to get your return confession out of you… After your show.

#sdv smut #stardew valley smut #sdv sebastian smut #- writing

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nouearth · 10 months

Text

for the greater good.

clark kent x male reader.

summary: clark is hurt, and his only remedy is you.

wc: 1.1k. genre: angst (kinda), comfort!fic. warnings: injured!clark, blood, newbie!superman, a monstrous villain has attacked metropolis!

notes: for some reason, i actually had a lot of trouble with this considering clark heals so fast, so i apologize for writing it so short! nonetheless, i hope you like it!

request by: anonymous.

“guess you aren’t exactly super, after all…” a small joke weathered on your tongue. usually, it tasted sweet. like a watermelon-flavored gummy, you’d reckon. but as you catalogued clark, stone-faced because you never liked to worry him, it came out bitter as if you chewed on tea leaves.

“(m/n), please…” clark always laughed at every one of your jokes. artificially at some, but nonetheless genuine because he liked seeing you satisfied with yourself.

today would be an exception.

“sorry,” you watched him writhe in pain, sweat collecting near your forehead because you were scared. it was stomach-churning to watch the way clark held onto nothing but himself, enduring whatever had weakened him so bad during the fight that had torn the city apart. enduring pain he had never felt before because somehow, his invisible shield had shattered. a million of broken pieces scattered in the city and clark has never felt so… defeated. “i’ll- fuck, here.”

any attempts of quelling the unknown pain in his body have gone futile because clark wasn’t a human. or was he? honestly, you were still confused about his origins. rightfully so, because he completely dropped a bomb of information only a few weeks ago. you were still registering that clark kent was… superman. the man of steel, they’d occasionally call him.

but as you pressed cotton pads to clark’s raw wound, he was neither of those names—simply clark.

“i thought you said you don’t bleed?” you kneeled beside him as clark sat against the wall, chest rising as he drew in every breath—every tremor.

“i... don’t. at least, i thought i didn’t.” he calmed under your touch, seemingly allowing his muscles to soften with every tender stroke of your fingers. he watched you, hissing when the alcohol hit his wound—multiple wounds. “usually, i would be healed by now. if i bled, i wouldn’t have noticed, so this is all… new to me.”

“hm…” you were bewildered just as he was. his suit was torn at the chest, skin scuffed and wounded just like the other injuries, but nothing was out of the ordinary. your eyes examined every corner, every bruise, every cut, for god knows what. a venomous bite drawn by a vampire? a beheaded tech-zombie from outer space?

nothing of that sort.

it was only clark.

“how close was that thing to you?” you never witnessed it. clark hid you to safety, flew you somewhere far despite your protest. you could help, determined to help. you weren’t exactly sure how, but all you knew that it was unfair that you inhabited this space when it should’ve been a dedicated spot for civilians, for refugees.

“I… it was all a blur. i remember flying towards him—it. it charged right at me and next thing i know- ow-“ clark twitched and you kissed a sorry to his lips, rubbing his chest to alleviate the pattern of tremors that sent him into guttural groans. “i-i was on the ground, pummeled. couldn’t breathe because its fist… claws kept digging into me—at me—deeper, and harder, and…”

clark was new to this, all of this. saving people was part of his daily routine, but he never expected it to be like this. to have his city completely demolished. to have the beauty of civilian life destroyed, all within a few hours. the pain in him throbbed, his head stung, but determination powered him through. “i have to get back and-“

“hey, hey,” you were never stronger than him, would never be stronger, but somehow you managed to keep him down, pushing him back as you pressed kisses and more kisses to his lips, then cheek. “you do. you have to get back out there. but not like this. rest for a bit, think about what we can do to… heal you back up—i’ll do the same—and we can go-“

“no, you’re staying here.” his hold on your wrist tightened as if you were about to leave in this very moment. he was still strong, you can feel it.

“clark.” your voice was stern, an unusual counter that surprised clark, and his grip loosened. “i have to do something. people are dying, and i just can’t sit here. plus, it’s fucking cold here.”

“you’re too vulnerable. you can’t—it’s too dangerous for you. what happens if that thing finds you? then what?”

“then my three years of taekwondo will finally pay off because i’m going to kick some ass and—“

“(m/n).” it was like deja-vu, and you smiled, kissing him again. he returned it softly, sighing. “you can’t.”

“i have to. what would you have done if you didn’t have superpowers and this was all happening?”

“i—“ clark stammered.

“all those people running to safety, hope that they’re running to it. there would be kids, mothers, fathers, toddle—“ you explained, and clark looked down solemnly.

“i would’ve… done my best to help them….” the symbol on his suit was shredded to pieces, baring his chest to the bite of cold.

“and why would you? even if you were defenseless as i am right now?”

“because i want to.” clark said quietly, then louder, “because i can.”

“humans—good humans at least—do the right thing.” your voice has gone soft now, almost a whisper as you looked out to the field of night sky. you weren’t sure if you were imagining it, but you can see smoke billowing from afar. “even if we make mistakes during the process. or if we happened to sacrifice our life to spare death for a few others…”

“we do it because we can,” clark’s hand squeezed into yours, watching you in awe because your features shined even more in the moonlight. “that’s our superpower, i guess. our only one, and it’s worrying that not many people seem to recognize it—utilize it.”

you turned to face him again, and even though it hurt clark to sit up and lean closer, you’ve become the source of his power. a strong will to motivate him to do better.

to be better—he finalized when he kissed you, sweet and gentle. he could feel warmth be brought back to his lifeblood when the light illuminated your silhouettes, sparkling. tremors became gentle waves, then static noise, and he hummed contently before pulling away.

“no taekwondo.” he cupped your cheeks as if that would make your hearing clearer.

“but-“ your lips pursed out from the applied pressure, like a goldfish.

“and all you’re going to do is lead people. i’ll find something—somewhere—we can harbor them to.”

“i—okay, fair.”

“and you’re going to wear a suit. i have some old tights-“

“gross-“

“and,”

“jesus, clark—“

“i love you.” clark caressed your skin, honey practically seeping from his eyes as he gazed into you.

you leaned into the warmth of his palm, one side to the next, and sighed to the beat of his heart drumming with yours, a symphony. “i love you.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

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gaymer-hag-stan · 7 months

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Happy 27th Anniversary to Dead or Alive!

On the 26th of November, twenty seven years ago, the original Dead or Alive game was released in Japanese arcades.

The world was introduced to the fast-paced action of DOA, and with DOA2 and 3 heralded as two of the best fighting games in the genre, it established itself as a landmark title in the fighting game genre as well as gaming in general.

The plot centers on the fight between the Mugen Tenshin Ninja Clan and the giant conglomerate DOATEC, host of the Dead or Alive World Combat Championship tournaments. Featuring a cast of colourful and cool characters, all fighting in the tournaments in hopes of fulfilling their own personal goals.

The impressive counter-based combat system, beautiful graphics and crazy stage interactions, from exploding fuel tanks to jumping off cliffs and tumbling down staircases, are the three core pillars of DOA that set it apart from its competition. Of course, the female cast, for better or worse, is also central to DOA, gaining popularity with its fans as well as notoriety with the general public, who often thinks there is no actual substance under the massive catalogue of swimsuit DLCs and breast physics. Oversexualislzation of female characters in games, and fighting games specifically, is nothing new, but where DOA differentiated from other mainstream fighting games, is by launching a spin-off series, the notorious Dead or Alive Xtreme Beach Volleyball sub-series, where the female cast and their sex appeal is put front and center, a factor that continued to spill over more and more to the main series in DOA4 and 5, with the team attempting to set the fighting game line of the series apart with DOA6, to mixed results.

As of 2016, the franchise has sold over 9.7 million units worldwide.

The future of the main fighting game series is currently unknown. Xtreme Beach Volleyball is still going strong, but after DOA6 failed to impress both the wider casual audience and the competitive FGC scene, while also pissing off longtime fans with predatory DLC practices on top of that, a DOA7 does not currently seem possible in the horizon, with Team Ninja currently enjoying the aftermath of Nioh's success.

I grew up with DOA and will be eagerly awaiting news of its eventual return, because a series with so much wackiness and genuinely fun gameplay will eventually crawl itself back from the dead, I'm sure of it!

#Dead or Alive #DOA #DOA2: Hardcore #DOA2 #Dead or Alive 2 #Dead or Alive 6 #DOA6 #Dead or Alive 3 #DOA3 #Dead or Alive Xtreme Beach Volleyball #Dead or Alive Xtreme #DOAX #Video Games #Gaming #Kasumi #Fighting Games

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pwlanier · 1 year

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Balthus (1908-2001), Thérèse sur une banquette, signed and dated 'Balthus 1939' (lower left),

oil on board

Note: In late 1935 Balthus met Thérèse Blanchard, who lived several blocks from Balthus’s studio at 3, cour de Rohan. Thérèse’s appearance was unconventional, but she “had the grave and moody look that appealed to [Balthus],” writes Sabine Rewald, who selected the present work for the cover of the catalogue of the 2013 “Cats and Girls” exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. In his first portrait of Thérèse, painted in 1936 (Monnier and Clair, no. P 95), Balthus concentrated on her “serious mien” (exh. cat., op. cit., 2013, pp. 8 and 68). He similarly depicted her two years later (P 118; illustrated here). Thérèse sur une banquette, which dates from 1939, is the culminant image in what would be regarded as the most brilliant series of Balthus’s career, considered by Rewald to be “among his finest works” (ibid., pp. 7-8). “The paintings of Thérèse show Balthus at the apogee of his strength,” Nicholas Fox Weber has stated (Balthus, New York, 1999, pp. 388-389). Of Balthus’s ten portraits of Thérèse, five are acknowledged masterpieces, four of which are in museums. Thérèse sur une banquette is the fifth.

A sibling or school-mate posed with Thérèse for Frère et soeur in 1936 (Monnier and Clair, no. P 94). Her brother Hubert, two years older, appears with her in Les enfants Blanchard, 1937 (no. P 100); both their names are recorded on the reverse of the canvas. Picasso, by then the world’s most famous living artist, purchased the latter painting from the dealer Pierre Colle in 1941. “You’re the only painter of your generation who interests me,” Balthus recalls Picasso having told him. “The others try to make Picassos. You never do” (quoted in Vanished Spendors: A Memoir, New York, 2001, pp. 9-10).

Balthus last portrayed Thérèse in the present painting, seated on the banquette in which she appears in two earlier full-figure portraits (Monnier and Clair, nos. P 101 and P 112). At one time he envisioned a larger composition—perhaps on the scale of Les enfants Blanchard or even larger—the conception of which is known only from a loosely brushed study on a medium-sized board, painted earlier in 1939, Trois personnages dans un intérieur (no. P 122; sold, Sotheby’s London, 25 June 2009, lot 240). The three figures in the high-ceilinged interior—likely set in Balthus’s cour de Rohan studio—are Thérèse leaning back on the bench seat (as seen in the present painting), Hubert standing, his knee propped on a chair, gazing out the window, and their mother, Madame Blanchard, viewed from the side, resting in an armchair placed before a table. Three of four known preparatory drawings for this interior scene focus on Hubert.

Partly reclining on the banquette and turned to her left, Thérèsein the present painting dangles a string from her raised hand. In the smaller, three-figure essay, this string is attached to a ball. A kitten—not shown here—rears up and attempts to grasp the ball. In dispensing with the ball and cat in this picture, Balthus avoided the anecdotal distraction of the creature captured in stop-motion, as one might enjoy in a sentimental genre scene. The figure of the girl alone instead evokes a deeper sense of myth. Thérèse becomes an exemplar of l’éternel féminin, one of the ancient fates, said to measure and determine man’s thread of life.

In Thérèse sur une banquette, Balthus attended to the primarily professional, compositional concerns he had in mind—he aimed to depict the figure of his model in a novel, unique posture, one with neither a familiar nor apparent precedent. He moreover sought to evoke the inner world of her reality with a sense of presence that was outwardly and convincingly grounded in the mechanics of movement, while exalting the architecture of the figure. “The portrait of Thérèse on a Bench is caught in the sort of delicate balance that cannot last for more than a moment,” Jean Clair has written (V. Monnier and J. Clair, op. cit., 1999, p. 38).

Indeed, Thérèse displays the acrobatic ease and grace of the young girl saltimbanque in Picasso’s Rose period Acrobate à la boule, 1905 (Zervos, vol. 1, no. 290; Pushkin State Museum of Fine Art, Moscow). Balthus’s treatment of Thérèse recalls the gentle poetry of Picasso’s Rose period, even if rendered in a technique more like that of the 19th-century masters Courbet and Corot. A token of the rose tonality is here in evidence; “no reproduction can convey the unusual color of Thérèse’s sweater,” Rewald has commented, “which mingles red with shades of pumpkin and orange” (exh. cat., op. cit., 2013, p. 88).

Picasso surely appreciated Balthus’s mastery of the unusual pose, which lends Les enfants Blanchard, the painting he chose for his own collection, its visual novelty and charm, qualities that Thérèse sur une banquette shares with the earlier picture. Her poses in both pictures comprise a trapezoidal shape, which forms the base for a classic, Renaissance conception of a pyramidal composition. The pinnacle of this pyramid in the present painting is Thérèse’s upraised hand; in the room with her brother, his head in profile at the top center edge of the canvas. The artist also incorporates as a constructive means the diagonal emphasis characteristic of Baroque painting. Balthus invested the figures in both compositions with carefully plotted contrapposto, while also employing contrasts of bodily form with the geometry of furniture, and reiterations of formal elements, such as the arching of elbows and knees. From such imbalance and asymmetry Balthus created a configuration of parts that is sprawling and dynamic—yet stable, harmonized and whole.

Courtesy Alain Truong

#balthus

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ranchthoughts · 10 months

Text

Inspired by a few people who have done this hi @wen-kexing-apologist and @justafriend-ql (and because I love organization):

Ranch's Thoughts

(aka, a meta roundup)

Meta 2023 Wrapped

GMMTV Multiverse

In which I attempt to untangle all the various universes in which GMMTV shows are set. An ongoing battle, so stay tuned for updates. My GMMTV multiverse posts can be found here, and my kissing chart posts can be found here.

Old Masterpost

Latest: The Multiverse so far, reorganized

Original GMMTV Multiverse Map post

Latest GMMTV Multiverse map

Kissing Multiverse: version 1, version 2, version 3

Latest Kissing Multiverse

ATOTS X Bad Buddy Our Skyy 2

Thinking about Snow White being the engineering play: parts 1, 2, and 3

Bad Buddy

Thinking about Bad Buddy and the (un)intentionality of seme/uke dynamics

Thoughts on genre, tropes, Bad Buddy, and My School President (aka, my Bad Buddy and MSP trope subversion thesis)

Wai as a faen fatale: a defense (in conversation with @chickenstrangers)

An analysis of the Baseball Mom shirt, Bad Buddy episode 5

Thinking of Pat and Pran, and genre awareness

Thinking about Bad Buddy, and prequels, and tragedies

An impassioned defense of the episode 5 rooftop kiss, aka the Rooftop Kiss and Dichotomies

Thinking about Pran's "Pat, you've got to stop doing this to me" (in conversation with @dudeyuri)

Pat, Pran, and pursuit (in conversation with @dudeyuri)

Thinking about Pat, Pran, and competition (in conversation with @dimplesandfierceeyes)

My School President

Thoughts on Tinn, his mother, and coming out

More thoughts on Tinn, his mother, and coming out

Thoughts on Tinn, music, Gun, and his mother

The Good Place and MSP: Pacing and Narrative Structure

Thinking about MSP and how it shows us that imagination and theory are not the same as real life

MSP and the relief of a sweet show

Thoughts on genre, tropes, Bad Buddy, and My School President (aka, my Bad Buddy and MSP trope subversion thesis)

Thoughts on the MSP ep.11 Chinzhilla fight scene

The Eighth Sense

The Eighth Sense and hazy cinematography

The Eighth Sense and missing pieces

The Eclipse

The Eclipse, repression, and self-knowledge

He's Coming to Me

"If you know how it's going to end, why start anything" as explored in HCTM and Bad Buddy (in conversation with @waitmyturtles)

Kieta Hatsukoi

Thinking about Aoki and Ida and how differently they think (in conversation with @chickenstrangers)

I Told Sunset About You

Conversations in ITSAY that are about more than they seem: Teh and Oh-aew floating

ITSAY is about: noses, backs, knees, and chests

Only Friends

Going to collect some of the OF ephemerality/voyeurism/control/trust, etc. posts I have written here for my own easier reference

Thoughts on ephemerality, permanence, YOLO, and photography post Ep. 2 (additions on photography by @chickenstrangers and @lurkingshan)

Where we are headed post Ep. 3 (with surveillance and voyeurism additions by @lurkingshan, @waitmyturtles and @slayerkitty)

Photography and audio/video in the series, as of Ep. 3

Boston's Manipulations - a study of two scenes in Ep. 3

Manipulate, Mansplain, Manwhore, Manslaughter: Ray confronting Boston, ep. 6

The Mundanity of Meanness

My series cataloguing moments of ephemerality/permanence/YOLO/photography/voyeurism/control/hypocrisy/accountability etc. in Only Friends: ep. 3, ep. 4, ep. 5, ep. 6, ep. 7, ep. 8, ep. 9, ep. 10, ep. 11, ep. 12

and then of course the collection of everyone's thoughts, which got updated weekly.

3 Will Be Free

Opposing Triads

Between Us

Thoughts on Win's rock shirt

Miscellaneous

Signs, symbols, icons, indexes, genre, and BL

#ranch thoughts #my meta! collected! organized!#meta masterpost

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reimenaashelyee · 1 year

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ok, I've read your article on your website about creating a gn pitch. did you have to pitch Alexander to hiveworks to get it printed? also, was seance published thru hiveworks or another publisher?? how difficult is it to get a publisher to actually pick up your book and have it printed + distributed? sorry for so many questions lol. I have a lot more but I'll refrain for now

Feel free to send your questions but please do separate asks if they are somewhat different subtopics

Alexander

Alexander is a special circumstance because Hiveworks is actually where I work as a dayjob. Staff members and creators already part of Hiveworks can get their webcomics hosted/printed with no barrier should they choose to be picked up by the studio - though they still need to make a pitch document to check whether the content matches the editorial catalogue.

Before this though, I had shopped Alexander out to other traditional graphic novel publishers. Which didn't work out because 1) there is still no viable market for adult graphic novels that isn't political, educational or memoir, 2) Alexander is a risky book, cost-wise and content-wise, 3) I wanted it to be webcomic too, 4) pandemic

Seance Tea Party

Seance Tea Party (and My Aunt is a Monster) is through Random House Graphic, a kids/young adult graphic novel imprint of Penguin Random House - the largest traditional publisher globally. I am only stating this to situate the difference between Alexander and Seance's homes. Hiveworks is absurdly tiny, hyper-independent and almost entirely digital. Random House Graphic is part of a big ecosystem that almost all your favourite authors past and present are part of: bookstores, libraries Hollywood, TV adaptations, ads on the bus or magazines or radio, Oprah's book club, worldwide distribution...

About the difficulty, it really depends on your specific situation.

For starters, you really need to have some kind of record of being able to finish something (mini-comics, a decently sized (100 paged) webcomic)... or in the case of long, ongoing webcomics, the ability to maintain it.

This should be enough to get you to make an attempt for Hiveworks (or Webtoons/Tapas...). But then you also have to consider the genre, subject matter, "representation", length, style of the work you're pitching... all the things I talked about in my GN Pitch article. As I have hinted at Alexander failing at being picked up by traditional publishers, some comics are just not able to break in to certain markets due to a variety of factors. Adult graphic novels are still seen as risky by traditional large imprints, so you tend to see them more in indie publications - like Fantagraphics, D&Q, Selfmade Hero, First Second, Silver Sprocket... or webcomics. However, if you're pitching a kids or young adult book - especially in the memoir, queer contemporary romance, POC (tailored to Western lens, RIP) fantasy, educational genres - then you'll have a way better time.

You still have to look at the publishers and see if your vibes match theirs. Then if you're interested in opening up the option to pitch to traditional imprints (and add more credibility to your submission), you really really really NEED an agent. Some GN imprints like Ballantine or Alfred A Knopf do not accept submissions at all except through agents and known contacts. Pitching to an agent is a whole other barrier... though once you get that agent, you can almost entirely hand over the grueling work of shopping pitches to them.

I think, on average, breaking into publishing is moderately hard. But I cannot guarantee it. I know for myself and a friend of mine, we broke into it easy: we got our agents quickly and secured our first book deals through major traditional publishers - though we had almost a decade of webcomics experience and community presence to back that up. Then for most of my peers/friends, it's months and months of rejection, no answers, editors/agents telling them their work is not for the market etc. Some of them overcome those troubles. Some of them become sick of it and go full independent self-published. Speaking of, there are still options outside of the mainstream. You can engage specialised, single-purpose services like White Squirrel to distribute, or Mixam to print your comics. You can host your work online and gain your own readership through updates, festival appearances, etc.

Again, it really depends on what you want to do, what your work is about, and the fallbacks you have. Please do your research, and prepare your strategies, and approach pitching with a realistic, pragmatic lens. Hope for the best, expect the worst. Everything above your must-have is a bonus.

#publishing #pitching #comics

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lattenha · 2 years

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hell shell — Y. KEEHO

your best friend is tiktok famous and convinces you to do a video with him. ft. tiktoker!keeho (p1harmony) x fem!reader genre! fluff, implied feelings between friends w/c! 2841

it’s no surprise to you that your best friend managed to blow up on tiktok overnight and has since then created a platform for himself on the silly app. with a whooping 564k followers and an abundant of consistent views that go for 600k to 1 million, you almost envy the public attention and popularity he so easily gained from posting one lip syncing video that wasn’t meant to be taken seriously in the first place.

at first it was a lame take at a joke, something to poke and prod at all the cis heterosexual corny males that do that lazy arm swing with their phones high above them to get the illusion of a facebook mom angle, while they flash their corniest smiles and barely move their lips to match the lyrics of the audio.

using what he’s learned from the algorithm on his ‘for you page,’ and doing enough retakes that the seven second song eventually engraved itself in your brain, you watched from your best friend’s bed with a judgmental look; cringing due to the second hand embarrassment of each redo.

keeho would laugh hysterically at every attempt, discard what he recorded, and do everything all over again. this repeated for about the twentieth time into the night until you decided to step in and snap at him to “just post what you fucking have already you dork!”

this would definitely be the last time you ever want to hear ball w/o you by 21 savage.

since then you’ve followed keeho throughout every tiktok video of him from behind the scenes with a front row seat either on his bed or out of view within proximity whenever he had his phone out to record. you would scoff, shaking your head and resuming your own leisurely activity of scrolling through instagram.

whenever his videos would pop up on your ‘for you’ page you never missed the opportunity to expose him in the comments to purposefully embarrass or call him out, cackling to yourself at the attention from his followers who usually replied to your comment with an “LMAO,” “HAHAHAH,” a keyboard smash of some sort, or the skeleton emoji.

“can you not expose me like that.” keeho whined, the dimly lit screen of his phone illuminating his face.

the two of you were watching a movie in his living room with a half eaten bowl of popcorn nestled in your lap. keeho’s attention toward the tv was long gone but you were adamant about actually wanting to watch the film. some cheesy romcom you picked since nothing else from netflix’s catalogue piqued your interest.

the movie followed the stereotypical best friends to lovers trope between the main characters. as per usual, both the guy and girl were in denial of their feelings for each other, scared to risk several years of being close friends that they’ve known each other only to possibly ruin it because they fell in love for the other person in their friendship.

it’s so cliche and corny that it makes you want to barf up the popcorn sitting in your stomach, along with the homemade wonton soup you made for dinner with keeho, and the melona bar you inhaled right after for dessert.

deep down you wish you could experience what the two leads in the movie have and are only shitting on the thought of best friends becoming lovers because you want something (cute and corny) like that to happen to you.

think about it. why spend another lifetime trying to get to know someone else and waste money on failed dates with a person you’re not even compatible with, when you literally have a friend sitting right next to you who knows all your embarrassing secrets; seen your childhood photos and family album; comforted you when you were at your lowest; took you to prom as their “date” even when there were a ton of other girls dying to go with him; and caught you standing in his room with just your bra and underwear on because he didn’t think to knock first before entering.

you sighed defeatedly. if only.

you came over because he invited you in the first place claiming that he was bored and alone by himself. he explained on the phone that his older sister, anna, was out with friends at some “fancy event or whatever” (keeho’s words not yours) and his younger brother was upstairs hiding in the room playing video games “or something.” with keeho’s parents constantly out of town due to work he hardly saw them as much as he’d like to.

lately it’s been like that. keeho beckoning you to his place and each time you would comply. it’s not like you had anything better to do anyways, and when it comes to your best friend, you’re down for anything. whether it’s a midday facetime call or a 10 P.M text at night, you somehow always find yourself with your two feet standing at his front door accepting his invitation to hang out.

even if that means he abandons his original plans to watch tiktoks (more like rewatch his own tiktoks and gawk at how “hot” he is).

the movie eventually came to an end with the long run of extended credits on screen. you let out an obnoxious yawn and stretched your arms above your head. you turned to observe keeho who was still entranced with his phone, no longer on tiktok and instead skipping through people’s stories on instagram with the quick tapping of his thumb.

“so, are we actually gonna do anything or am i just here for my health.” you nudged keeho’s thigh with your foot and he was quick to react by whacking your shin. “ow!” you kicked him harder this time and he shrieked at the pain, rubbing the sore area with scrunched eyebrows.

“what the heeeck, y/n. that shit hurt,” keeho whined once more. you simply scoffed at his behavior in the past two hours, arms folding over themselves as they rest against your chest in disappointment. “i know something we can do. there’s a tiktok—”

“no! absolutely no tiktoks i don’t wanna be in any of your thirst trap videos you do for clout.”

keeho’s bottom lip jutted out and you quirked an eyebrow at how (soft and cute) ridiculously stupid he looked pouting at you. “it’s not another one of my ‘thirst traps.’” his fingers doing air quotes when he said the word ‘thirst traps.’ such bullshit. he knew what he was doing each time he posted. he’s just too shameful to admit the truth because his ego is bigger than his pea sized brain.

you huffed, willing to hear him out when you let out a tiresome: “what is it?”

the silver headed boy pulled up a tiktok trend that was hot amongst couples a year ago, doing the little hip bouncing movement on beat to a sped up version of hell shell by young nudy. you knew of this, of course, because you remember cursing every happy couple in your head that would appear on ‘for you’ page. no matter how many of them you blocked, no matter how many times you pressed “i’m not interested,” tiktok would not get the hint that you despised seeing people in their own lovey dovey relationships.

the audio circulated on tiktok recently when people decided to bring it back expressing how distraught they felt that they have yet to do the dance with “someone’s son” or “daughter.”

“are you serious right now?” you craned your neck to look at keeho, breath hitching in the back of your throat unaware that his face was so close to yours. you quickly shot your eyes back to his phone and watched the tiktok replay for the ninth time as a nervous sweat ran through your body.

“c’mon it’ll be fun!” your best friend padded across the living room and propped his phone on a flat surface high enough to get a full body shot of you two in frame together.

you stood next to him awkwardly, your shoulders hunched forward just a little given your poor posture. staring at the reflection of yourself on screen you internally cringed at your appearance. you didn’t look as effortlessly great as the other pretty girls on tiktok do when they perform the bare minimum. it’s a wonder how blessed they were with the perfect genetics.

your eyes dawned on the sweatpants sitting at your waist and the random halter top you grabbed from your closet before leaving the house in a rush. your hair was tied in a high ponytail with loose strands that fell to the sides of your temples in a messy “i just woke up” type of way and not in a “i naturally look this cute” type of way.

off to your side standing merely five inches apart from you was your best friend. his fingers combed through his bleached locks, pushing back the strands of hair that fell in front of his eyes. you couldn’t help but to notice that silver on him enhanced his features and drew attention to his chiseled facial structure. high cheekbones, prominent jawline, sharp eyes, handsome nose, and the prettiest pair of plumped lips that put women who use fillers to shame. he worse the most basic outfit: an oversized hoodie and shorts that sit below mid thigh.

you stared [in awe] slightly fixated. never in a million years or in another universe would you think to find yourself checking out keeho, someone you’ve known since middle school and shared half of your life with so far.

who knew that the little boy that was once a troublemaker would grow up into a handsome young male. his only downside and biggest red flag being that he makes tiktoks for his 600k fanbase of followers. aside from that, you can’t help but to admit that keeho is actually a great person both above and beyond the surface.

he’s humble, kind, generous, a little snarky and sarcastic from time to time but you’re just the same, if not, worse than he is. it’s how you guys get along in the first place because no one else is capable of tolerating his sassiness and blunt attitude.

he was your shoulder to cry on whenever a guy would ghost you for no good reason or friend zone you without giving you the chance to prove your worth as a potential romantic candidate. he was there to soothe your tears when you had a nasty breakup with your ex almost a year ago. crying bloody murder on the phone when you instinctively called him right after the whole shit show went down. it was terrible, to say the least, a distant dark memory you wish never to bring out of its file cabinet you buried in the deepest pit of your mind. keeho understood the assignment and whenever a friend of yours or someone outside of your social circle tried to pry the details out of you, he would shoot daggers and shake his head disapprovingly of their nosey antics, to which they would back off and quickly shut up.

he was there to mourn the death of your family pet, haku, when he passed away after 16 years of a beautiful life with the best owners and loving household that gave him everything. as a little something to remember your memories of the yappy shih tzu he edited a one minute compilation of videos and photos you had with haku. that day you cried harder than you ever did over a boy (and missed the sight of keeho’s wavering lips when he held you in his arms while you sobbed into his shirt).

you’re grateful for keeho, an understatement that speaks volume for itself. although you don’t explicitly vocalize your appreciation for him you hope that seven years of friendship is sufficient enough to do all the talking.

“okay, ready? you spin around so your back is facing the camera and then we start doing the dance.”

you nod, heat rising to your cheeks when keeho starts the timer as you watch it count down from three to one. camera-shy eating at your confidence once you hear the music playing. you’re incredibly stiff and, not to mention, really fucking awkward trying to sway your hips to stay align with the beat.

when the song ends after what feels like a century over the span of six seconds, keeho belts out a screechy laugh at your guys’ first attempt of filming the dance. he scolds you for looking robotic and gets you to practice a couple of rounds to the music playing on repeat before he records.

“here,” he approaches you from behind while his hands naturally latch onto either side of your waist. you gasp under your breath and stare doe-eyed at the phone in front of you. “like this.” keeho breathes, guiding your hips and counting aloud the beat to help you match the rhythm of the tempo.

“i-i think i got it now, t-thanks…”

keeho’s grasp burns your skin through the material of your sweatpants. when his eyes trail your figure to the location of where his hands are he promptly retreats to his original position on your right side, not without clearing his throat as a beat of silence dawns on you both. his touch lingers and it sends goosebumps throughout your arms. you rub at your skin hoping to rid of the biological reaction your body has in response to what just happened five seconds ago.

“you cold?” keeho asks. his cheeks are dusted with the faintest shade of crimson red.

“oh— i’m fine! just felt a little chilly for a second.”

you tug at the hem of your top, secretly wishing you had worn something more comfortable with full coverage like a hoodie or a sweater. but no, you just had to pick what you thought might capture keeho’s gaze. what the fuck were you thinking—

“okay i’m gonna hit record.” your best friend announces, cutting you off of your internal mini meltdown.

once more the timer counts down.

3, 2, 1.

you throw up a peace sign at the camera scrunching your nose and adjusting your loose ponytail that’s slowly falling down from the height on your head. keeho nods approvingly at your drastic improvement, giving you a boost of confidence and encouragement you were missing in the first take. he grabs your hand, holding it in the air, when you spin on your heel to turn your back toward the phone just as he instructed you. with your fingers intwined, he gives you a reassuring squeeze gesturing that you’re doing way better than before.

you chant keeho’s counts in your head like a mantra singed into your memory. one-two, one-two, one-two, left, right, left-right.

it takes you a couple of seconds to register that it’s finally over when keeho gently drops your hold from his and grabs his phone to watch the replay. you peer over his arm and giggle at how ridiculous you look versus keeho who’s a natural at this sort of stuff.

“that’s the best you’ll get out of me so you might as well just post that.” you plop onto the couch and sigh heavily with a sheepish smile. maybe seven seconds of fame for being in a tiktok with keeho will give you the opportunity of a piggy back ride for free clout.

keeho jumps onto the empty space next to you on the cushions and leans his 5’10 figure on you, barely being able to support his weight given the four inches he’s holding above your head.

“posted it! that went better than i thought it would, to be honest. especially you, little miss stiff-and-awkward.” he poked at your leg teasingly and dodged the pillow you sent flying at his face.

“yeah, yeah. let’s hope none of your followers start roasting me or something.”

subconsciously your fingers tangle themselves in keeho’s hair as you comb from the roots to the tips. humming softly in content to himself, keeho switches apps to the camera and quickly takes a blurry selfie with your face cropped out, willing to risk the high dive off the edge of a cliff when he posts an eyeful of a lengthy rant on his private account about how much he (loves) is thankful for his best friend and other half.

the following morning you woke up to a spam of text messages from none other than keeho himself. it was 11:23 A.M and he sent those texts two hours ago when you were still asleep. it’s the weekend for fucks sake, why is he awake so early.

you rolled over in bed to lay on your stomach, rubbing your hand against your face, and blinking away at the sleep still evident in your eyes. you read through each keyboard smash until he was able to coherently put together a proper sentence in english.

[yoon steph (curry)] Y/N!!!

[yoon steph (curry)] OUR TIKTOK BLEW UP LMAOOAAOAO

[yoon steph (curry)] LOOK (Attachment: 1 image)

[yoon steph (curry)] everyone loves you bruh

[yoon steph (curry)] i’m gonna start forcing you to do more tiktoks with me 😈😈

you sighed. what the hell did you get yourself into.

#yoon keeho #keeho x reader #keeho imagines #keeho scenarios #p1harmony imagines #keeho fluff #keeho #p1harmony #p1harmony scenarios #keeho fanfic #cgi-aenergy

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awkwardplant · 6 months

Text

2023 Reads

This year I've read 24 books - I had only planned to read one book per month, given that I've barely read since leaving highschool. But my old bookworm self is re-emerging! As I write this, I'm on my 25th lol.

I decided at the start of the year that I wanted to try an read a wide variety of genres, which I did. Didn't love everything I read, but such is life. Below are all the titles and my terrible attempts to summarise the plots. The ones with a heart were my favourites and ones I highly reccommend.

My full list in order:

No Destination by Satish Kumar

Autobiography of the life of a pilgrim who left his family at 9 years old to become a Jain monk, then left that to become an activist and walk across continents.

Not the kind of life story you hear everyday, that's for sure.

How to Invent Everything by Ryan North

(Nonfiction) An in depth guide for the stranded time traveller that needs to recreate modern technology from scratch.

Funny, easy to understand, and bitesized sections that can be read when you've got a spare 5 mins.

Moral Compass by Danielle Steel

A girl who experiences sexual assault while at a private school that newly became co-ed, and the resulting court case/investigation into what happened.

Personally I felt this read like a case-study more than a story, and the message was very heavyhanded.

Meddling Kids by Edgar Cantero ❤

A horror comedy about a group of adults that used to be sleuths in their teens reunite to solve a case that everyone thinks has been wrapped up.

This was recommended to me by a librarian that said it was like "if the scooby doo gang all had trauma and fought eldritch beings" which perfectly summed it up. Also, if you shipped Velma and Daphne... you'll enjoy this book 👀 The writer randomly switches to a script-like format at times, some people hate that but I personally like when an author does whatever the fuck, just because he can. Delicious dark humour.

The Rain Heron by Robbie Arnott ❤

About a woman who lives alone in the mountains in a country devastated by a coup, and is sought out by a soldier in order to find the mythical Rain Heron.

Nice prose and descriptions, and the other character's pov chapters have some great suspense.

The Mark and The Void by Paul Murray

An office worker meets a novellist who wants to write about his life.

I was really into the first half of the story, but the second half became boring as the plot stagnated

Resistance by Samit Basu

People have superpowers corresponding to their innermost desires, and we follow the life of a billionaire who is the leader of a mecha group and the lives of their enemies.

I accidentally picked this up at the library, not realizing it was a sequal to Turbulence, but it read okay on it's own. You'd like this if you're into My Hero Academia or other shounen anime.

Notes from the Burning Age by Claire North ❤

Set in the distant future after an apocalypse, an archivist is forced to translate documents from the "burning age" for the Brotherhood

I still think about this story daily. The writing has an interesting style and rhythm and the plot is packed with intriguing developments

The Library at Mount Char by Scott Hawkins ❤

There's a library with the secrets to the universe, and several people, called Pelapi, grew up learning a unique catalogue of skills using its books, taught by Father, who might be God? But he's gone missing lately.

If you like The Umbrella Academy you'd like this. Like Meddling Kids, it's also dark and funny.

The People we Meet on Vacation by Emily Henry

A journalist and her old friend go on holiday in a last attempt to rekindle their friendship.

I found this book on a train, then left it on another. Hopefully it got a new home! The story was sweet, especially the ending where the journalist spent some time on herself.

It's Kind of a Funny story by Ned Vizzini

A teenage boy suffers a mental breakdown and spends a week in a psychiatric ward.

Given to me by a family member, I am now a bit concerned for her. It has a happy ending, at least. There was a transphobic depiction of a character that was mentioned in the blurb, but she doesn't even stay for the whole story.

The Darkness Knows by Arnaldur Indridason

A body is found on a mountain in Iceland, reopening a cold case from 30 years ago, bringing the detective in charge of it out of retirement.

The prose isn't great in this due to a poor translation. The plot/characters are a bit cliche but not too bad overall. The ending was unexpected yet also expected in the best way?

Legends and Lattes by Travis Baldree ❤

Cosy fantasy about an orc who retires from adventuring to open a coffee shop/cafe.

Bought this after seeing it recommended for people that like Stardew Valley. I liked the amount of detail that went into just building the shop. The prose is simple, but I find that fits the main character, Viv, well, and there were some really good lines/messages in the story. I have adopted Thimble.

Leonard and Hungry Paul by Ronan Hession

Two unremarkable irish men consider their lives and place in the universe.

This would've been one of my favourites had it not focused so much on Paul's sister's wedding. The book should've been called Leonard, Hungry Paul, and Grace. I did enjoy the conversations in this book, and the attention to the mundane.

Summer Sons by Lee Mandelo

Southern Gothic queer supernatural story about a college student trying to solve the case of his best friend's death, while being haunted by Revenants.

This took me ages to read because it was so emotionally heavy and the plot moved slowly. Like it had some incredibly good prose and relationship dynamics, but I couldn't force myself to read it again.

Psalm for the Wild Built by Becky Chambers

Solar punk story about a (nonbinary!) person who suddenly switches jobs to become a tea monk, then leaves that to visit a hermitage and meets a robot along the way.

This is a short book because the sequel is the second half of the story. £13-17.99 seems too expensive for half a book. It was recommended as a cosy fantasy but the MC is existentially unhappy with their life for most of it, so the story doesn't quite fit in that category.

A Cosmology of Monsters by Shaun Hamill ❤

Noah, the youngest child of his family, narrates the life of his parents: a bookish mother and a Lovecraft-horror lover father, and the monsters they all encounter

Phenomenal prose, characters, themes, and plot. Lots of psychological trauma and inner demons.

Those People Next Door by Kia Abdullah ❤

A family moves into a suburb and a war begins between them and the neighbours after he knocks down their "black lives matter" banner.

Oh boy, it sure escalates to become way out of hand. It has a mystery element to it which I enjoyed trying to figure out. Lots of tension between plot points. The last line! Agh!!

The Fall by Louise Jensen

A girl falls off a bridge and the family/police try to uncover who pushed her, but instead uncover secrets about the family.

There were some parts that didn't make sense to me, and there was a lot of characters to keep track of. Not a bad book but it just didn't have that extra spark.

Bookshops and Bonedust by Travis Baldree

Prequel to Legends and Lattes (but can be read on its own) where Viv has recently started adventuring but has to recover from an injury before she can return to her group. She helps out at a bookshop and gets caught up with a necromancer.

Preferred the first book as it felt cosier, but the action in this book is fun too.

Days at the Morisaki Bookshop by Satoshi Yagisawa

A woman leaves her office job after a breakup to live above her uncle's bookshop and helps out, but she hates books.

Too short for my liking, and the main character was difficult to connect to and the relationships/conversations seemed shallow. the second half of the story centres on the uncle's wife and while it had a valuable lesson it just wasn't as good to read.

Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin

Childhood friends meet again in college and design a game together, which changes their lives/careers.

This was not a terrible book, but it did have some strange descriptions, and the author doesn't understand how the game industry works.

The Hike by Lucy Clarke

4 women who have been friends since highschool go to Norway to climb Mount Blajfell, but they are not prepared for the trek

I felt this had some cliches, but a pretty decent suspense novel

And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie

10 people are invited to Soldier Island for various reasons, only to find they all have one thing in common... murder.

I was theorizing like crazy during this, trying to guess whodunnit. I felt like the reveal was a bit disappointing because how on earth was anyone meant to guess that??

Library books: 9

Given to me: 5

Favourites: 7

If you have any recs for me I'd love to know, just message me!

#book review #bookblr #reading #books #novels #book recommendations #book reccs #lbrary #book list #literature #fiction

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i-swear-this-is-for-homework · 2 years

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So much of the horror genre is a record left behind. A desperate attempt to be remembered. A please believe me, dear god please believe me, an I was here and I mattered and here’s where I went. An I know it’s unbelievable but I am asking you to believe it.

And seven years later, Jonathon looks at the record they’ve left behind and writes “we ask none to believe us!” He says we know it’s unbelievable and we don’t care whether you, the reader, know or not. And it’s such a change!! Such a change from standard horror conventions, yea, but also a change from the conventions that this narrative has built up! These letters and articles and diary entries have been EVERYTHING to these characters. Proof of communication. Proof of sanity. Hope. When Dracula gains entry to the asylum, he doesn’t just strike at Mina. He burns the papers in the study, he strikes at the narrative that these people have been building together, constructed out of love and desire to protect and a desperate need to understand what is happening to them. During the darkest days of Dracula, the long month of travel after Mina begins to turn, the continuation of the narrative is what keeps these characters going. What convinces them that they may have some semblance of proof, some ability to return to a normal life, even after facing a monster.

And then - they do face a monster. And the narrative that’s been so important to continue since MARCH, the carefully-constructed and meticulously ordered catalogue of events goes quiet for seven years. And Jonathon - the first person we heard from, the character who (arguably) has suffered the most, and who certainly has been forced to live in the most doubt of his own narrative of events, writes “we want no proofs; we ask none to believe us!”

They have each other. They know their story, and they’ll treasure the memories, and they’ll pass the love and the knowledge on to their son. But they need nothing else. They are freed from record-keeping, freed from the burden of their terrible secrets, freed from piecing together bloody scraps of newspaper and horrific half-remembered dreams. Now they get to live.

#dracula daily #I get emotional about this story every reread but this one hit different #I’ll miss my daily updates!!

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perfectdevilcc · 2 years

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Horror Movie Franchise Posters [ Part 01 ]

"What scares me is what scares you. We’re all afraid of the same things. That’s why horror is such a powerful genre. All you have to do is ask yourself what frightens you and you’ll know what frightens me." - John Carpenter

I’ve been meaning to make these since before I even started this blog, and kept putting it off because my first attempt has messed-up swatches. All of these posters are taken from my Plex library, Google, or TPDb. More parts coming soon!

Base game compatible (since they’re a standalone base game recolor)

Custom swatches and catalogue previews for each set

Thumbtacks match a color featured in the poster

§10 each, under the Decoration > Wall category

Offer +1 to Environment

32 total films

All film titles and download link under the cut:

Download here [ SimFileShare ]

If you use these, it’d be great if you could tag me, but I won’t force you to do it. Just credit me somewhere.

Do not reupload these – especially if you’re gonna charge for them.

BLACK CHRISTMAS

Black Christmas (1974)

Black Christmas (2006)

Black Christmas (2019)

CANDYMAN

Candyman (1992)

Candyman: Farewell to the Flesh (1995)

Candyman: Day of the Dead (1999)

Candyman (2021)

CHILD'S PLAY

Child's Play (1988)

Child's Play 2 (1990)

Child's Play 3 (1991)

Bride of Chucky (1998)

Seed of Chucky (2004)

Curse of Chucky (2013)

Cult of Chucky (2017)

Child's Play (2019)

FINAL DESTINATION

Final Destination (2000)

Final Destination 2 (2003)

Final Destination 3 (2006)

The Final Destination (2009)

Final Destination 5 (2011)

FRIDAY THE 13TH

Friday the 13th (1980)

Friday the 13th: Part II (1981)

Friday the 13th: Part III (1982)

Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter (1984)

A New Beginning (1985)

Jason Lives (1986)

The New Blood (1988)

Jason Takes Manhattan (1989)

The Final Friday (1993)

Jason X (2002)

Freddy vs Jason (2003)

Friday the 13th (2009)

#sims4cc #sims 4 custom content #s4cc #sims 4 #ts4cc #;sims4cc #;cc: deco #;cc: perfdev #;cc: horror franchises

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neet-elite · 8 months

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Shower Down — (SDV) Sam

Pairing: Sam / Reader Genre: Smut 18+ WC: 4,089 Warnings: Breeding, creampie, shower sex, established relationship, cervix fucking Synopsis: In hindsight, he probably should have dealt with his… Issue before even thinking about starting his morning routine.

A/N: Crossposting this from my AO3. I wont be reposting every fic, but the most "recent" that seem to be popular. For my full catalogue then find my AO3 account in my pinned.

In hindsight, he probably should have dealt with his… Issue before even thinking about starting his morning routine. It’s a regular occurrence, after all. Daily, even, like the hormonal teenager he is at heart. He should have known better than to simply waltz in to your bathroom without a second thought, but after helping you work the farm pretty much all day yesterday, he still feels too beat to even think properly at such an early hour. He doesn’t even know what time it is, only that the mornings sun is too bright to stay resting. The soft sounds of running water should have at least alerted him to your presence, but instead he merely followed his set in stone routine and allowed his body to shuffle sleepily to the bathroom. Quiet steps, yawning as he opened the door into your bathroom with only the intent of brushing his teeth and showering— as one always should upon waking up, and yet even still he fails to notice your presence. How exactly he isn’t sure, but he’ll find a way to blame you for it regardless. He at least gets half way done before seemingly coming to, mid brush when he realizes just exactly what he’s walked into. Not that he’s one for complaining, and certainly not given the circumstances he finds himself currently in, but it genuinely startles him to see you staring right at him through the mirror reflection.

“Oh, shit!” he stumbles, muffled a little by the brush in his mouth as toothpaste dribbles from his lips. You simply glance back at him, a playful little smile on your lips that only causes his cock to throb harder at how casual you look. Morning wood, of course, made only worse by seeing his pretty girlfriend stand naked behind him. And yet even with the shock that comes from seeing you so naked so early in the morning, so much so that he struggles to find words following his cursing, he can’t bring himself to look away. Wouldn’t even if he could, honestly. What a pretty sight to greet him first thing in the morning, his gaze on you softening the more his brain catches up to reality. The domesticity of sharing such a small space together tragically going right to his already hard cock rather than his heart, but he figures you don’t mind given the remaining knowing smile on your face.

It’s certainly not the first time he’s seen you naked, though if he’s honest, every time sort of feels like the first, still. You’re his pretty baby, so of course he can’t take his eyes off you, even when intruding in your private morning shower time. His perverted tendencies taking advantage of his low willpower and gluing his attention to the way you seem to sway side to side before him, his cock clearly poking in a tent as a reward in return. Though the relationship certainly isn’t in the early stages, it’s still difficult for him to find the self control to act decently around you. Simply put, he wants you. Perhaps far too much given how rock hard his cock is from just the frosted view of your naked body, teeth brushing stopped momentarily to instead look at you with awe. No attempt made to avert his gaze, his dumb stare raking over you from head to toe and then back up again, catching only glimpses of your soaked… naked body. Saliva drooling with toothpaste to stain his chin at the sight of you in the shower, his palm absentmindedly tugging at his equally dribbling tip to satisfy his early hour urges. God, he thinks you’re so gorgeous. Water dripping from your hair as you look back at him with amusement, clearly spotting him far before he took notice of your own presence. Even then, it only makes his cock harder. Knowing that despite his accidental intrusion you chose to keep yourself hidden, waiting behind the safety of your glass shower for him to discover. Fat beads of precum decorating his stretched thin boxer shorts at the sight of your lazy smile, his own lips tugging into a similar one before re-realising that he’s still holding his toothbrush, toying with his cock in front of you with his other hand while he offers you a sleazy look.

“S-Sorry!” He continues brushing, finishing up as fast as possible so that he can bring his full attention back to you, his baby. His pretty, naked, baby. “Fuck,” he spits, running his toothbrush under the tap only to throw it back where it belongs, snapping his head back to you with his cock pointing directly at you. It’s a wonder how his boxers even stay on with how hard he is, his tip leaking precum through the fabric while you slowly spin for him to show off, giggling so cutely that he can’t help but gasp a little. Truly, he’s mesmerized. Feet stubbornly stuck in place by your bathroom sink while his cock twitches and leaks all for you, straining demandingly against his barely there boxers in an effort to highlight his need for you, but whether you notice or not doesn’t matter. Not with the teasing smirk you offer in return, his throat dry despite just brushing while he wipes at his lips. “Didn’t mean to— Promise, I didn’t mean t’walk in on ya.” He sighs, his tummy flipping and cheeks blushed when you give a knowing laugh back in response. “I mean it! I jus’—” his words are cut off as you push your body up against the glass, nipples on clear display for him to salivate at. It takes him a moment to realize whats going on, but when he does, he’s unable to stop the cocky laugh that escapes his chest. Oh, so that’s how you wanna play things? Flirting with him behind the glass pane, do you think you’re safe there? Not a chance. A sneaky smirk plastered on his face as he quickly as humanely possible removes his clothes, cock slapping against his toned tummy to cause him to hiss at the contact in his rush to undress, chest tight with love and balls taut with seed while he stumbles over himself. Because for as much as his trespassing was a genuine mistake, it seems you don’t mind in the slightest, and he’d be a fool to not take advantage of the opportunity you’re presenting him. How could he not when you practically beckon him forward with your squished to the glass tits, the soapy water running off you so prettily that for a moment it seems impossible for him to move— instead stuck staring stupidly at you with an open mouth. Fuck, he’s so lucky. Seeing you first thing in the morning is like a dream come true, and that much seems especially accurate with how flirty you’re acting, lust pooling in his tummy to prove a far bigger issue than just some plain old morning wood.

And so he takes a few steps forward in your small bathroom to reach your even smaller shower, biting down on his lip to control the excitement that threatens to bubble out the closer he gets, a nervous giggle on his tongue at just how easily you slide open the door for him to enter. Like you’ve been waiting for him all morning, watching as your gaze drops to his painfully hard cock bobbing against his tummy and then back to his face, your intent clear to see as you beckon him in. And like a stupid dog he is he follows, tail wagging behind him in sheer infatuation for you and your lewd display, breath caught in his throat from how difficult it is for him to comprehend that you’re his. You, gorgeous, sexy, you. Standing naked right in front of him, prompting him to come under the shower head by leading him in with such gentle touch, making room for him to slide in front of you and yet still he’s pressed right against you, his cock inevitably leaking onto your front for the water to wash away. It’s only when he’s flush against you that he remembers how to speak, mind caught up to the warm smile you send his way while your hands rest softly against his biceps. You do this to him, yknow? Make his mind all fuzzy and blank, just from looking at you. Fuck, he’s so in love with you. He has to show you, by any means possible. It just so happens that this mornings attempt consists of his cock twitching so nicely against your lathered up tummy while he eyes you up and down, tongue poking against the inside of his cheek in a confident display of want for you.

“Sorry,” he starts again, his gaze half lidded and tone cheeky with knowing that you want this too, but it’s fun to play pretend. To act as if everything was normal and that he didn’t want to shove his cock so deep into you that you can’t walk for the rest of the day. “Really, I didn’t mean t’jus’ walk in like that.” And he’s being honest, but the casual way he he talks with you is in stark contrast to how hard his cock throbs and it only riles him up more as you simply listen to his excuses, his hands mirroring your own as he lets them rub lightly against your shoulders, traveling down your arms to the bend of your elbow and then back up again. “But now that I’m here…” He smiles, raising his eyebrows at you in a way that makes you giggle and fuck, even that turns him on some more. How cute you sound when enjoying his dumb theatrics, the slight shake in your body as you laugh rubbing against his cock, the way your back is pressed clean against the tiled wall of the shower and still there isn’t enough room for him— all of it causing him to be overwhelmed completely by you. Your touch, your scent, your voice— it all culminates in one thing and one thing only. “Well… Let’s just say that m’happy t’see ya here, yeah?”

He knows what’s about to happen, and he knows that you know too. The little glint in your eye as you bite your lip in front of him, playing coy and hard to get with your barely there touches and meek little nods— shit, you’re so sexy it’s unfair. He could just— could just breed you right now if he wanted to. It’s something he’s been thinking about for a while now, but seeing as how loving and doting you are of him always, though especially this morning, he decides maybe it’s time he gives in to your late night confessionals. Because honestly, he hasn’t been able to get it off his mind since you mentioned your hidden want to be bred, every fuck after the first admission proving to pull him further to your side on the matter and he can’t help but think this chance encounter was actually planned all along. You, up early and showering before he’s even had a chance to wash up himself. Staying silent as he wanders in, watching him with a curious smile on your lips and even inviting him to join you in the shower. It has to be your intentions, right? God he hopes so, given the fact that he’s so horrendously down bad for you that he can’t stop a small groan escaping at your playful touches. They aren’t even that sexual in nature, and yet he’s harder than he’s ever been with the possibility of wifing you up in the dirtiest way he knows how, his head leaning back a little to rest calmly against the wet glass.

“I am too.” You whisper, so breathlessly that he whines a little simply at the husky nature of your voice. Truthfully, you could do just about anything and he’d be turned on, which is part of the reason why he finds himself agreeing with your breeding kink. He gets it, now that he’s standing face to face and cock to front with you in the much too small shower. Laughing a little at his inability to see it previously— you’re gonna be his little wife, and he wont stop today until he’s sure you’ve taken his seed. That’s what you want, isn’t it?

“Yeah? And why’s that?” He smiles, knowing full well why you’re happy to see him but the fantasy of it all is too good to ignore. Has his cock leaking all over you some more, twitching between both bodies while he makes it wait just a little longer. Will make the eventual act all the more satisfying, he thinks, as he edges himself against you.

Your hands drop lower to his abdomen, trailing your nails over his slight abs in a way that makes him shiver into your touch despite the warm water running down him. He needn’t ask at all, but this teasing game is driving him insane, his smile refusing to leave as he bites his tongue to prevent himself from shoving it down your throat in needy hunger. Driven to rest his hands on your hips by his baby making thoughts, gently pinching and playing with your skin there while ruminating over how perfect your body is for breeding. For his seed, flashes of imagined sights consisting of your full with milk tits and pretty round tummy causing his hips to buck ever so slightly against you. Because what a good mommy you’d be, yeah? He couldn’t imagine a better fit even if he tried, intentionally rubbing his hard cock against you now the closer your hands reach down, gripping your hips tighter for a better fucking surface.

“Mhm… Because…” You trail off, the feeling of your fingers brushing against his cock winding him too much when paired with the seductive tone you adopt, eying you up expectantly as you pause to make him wait to hear what he knows is coming. “Because I need you.”

There it is, and even though he knew it was coming, the verbal confirmation of your want causes his head to grow dizzy. “Yeah?” He stupidly mumbles, because he sure as fuck can’t think of anything else to say with your hand so close to his cock. He understands. He needs you too.

“Mhm. If you’ll have me, I mean.”

And he’s never moved faster in his life before, harshly sucking air in-between his closed teeth before grinding his cock against you with more purpose. “Fuck yeah I want you, shit—” he gasps, the wet glide of his cock against your tummy convincing him to flip you around in a second, pressing your front tight against the shower tiles and growling down at you when you stick your ass out further against him. Heart in his throat and cock immediately slipped between your thighs, his brain automatically turned off to focus solely on making sure you’re properly bred by the end of this morning. “Always, always want ya.” He mumbles against your neck, leaning over you to better hump his cock between your wet thighs, panting with you as his cock glides between your folds and knocks against your puffy clit. There’s a certain acute desperation in his actions and in his words, the choked half whines and greedy thrusts against your cunt, no patience left in him to take his time with your dirty display just moments ago. He’s convinced that you’re the girl of his dreams, knows as much to be true when you softly moan his name each time his tip leaks more pre against you, every thrust of his cock against your slit compelling him further to give in to his instinctual need to impregnate you— just like how he knows you want just as much as him. He has to knock you up.

It’d be a lie to say he fucks his tip right inside your little hole on pure accident alone, but rather his eager humps spreading the copious amounts of precum your moans pull out of him cause his cock to just— slip in. Not that he hears you complaining though, a small shocked gasp and you’re already wiggling your ass back against him begging for more: and he’s all too happy to give. A voiceless sorry dying on his lips at the feeling of your hole wrapping tight around him, his hands automatically locked at your hips to keep you pinned in place for him to shove himself inside. It’s not slow by any means, and even he winces a little at the too fast stretch his needy cock forces you to endure, but he’ll just have to apologize later. He’s got no time to do so right now as his hips naturally rock into you, too fixated on watching his cock disappear into your little cunt to excuse his rough treatment, squeezing reassuringly at your hips to thank you for taking him so well seeing as he’s too breathless to do so otherwise. Blank mind, all he knows is he wants you. And he has you, right within his greedy grip, pulling your ass back as far as he can against him in the small shower to fuck you back against his already fast fucks just as much as he humps you forward with each thrust. A loud slap heard over the hot water trickling down, his balls hitting your clit with how hard he fucks into you, staining your insides sticky with precum while hunching himself over your own cramped body position to completely encase you with him. “Perfect fuckin’ cunt,” He heaves against your ear, spoken through gritted teeth and a tense jaw, his tempo brutal in how hard and fast he fucks into you. A clear show of just how powerless he is to control himself around you, how desperate he is to prove just how much he wants you. Enough to breed your tight little hole and start a family with you, anyway. “Gonna fill it up, kay?” He half laughs, the sound overtaken by a pained moan from how hard your cunt squeezes around him at his words.

“Y’like the sound of that, huh? Oh, sure feels like y’do.” He taunts you, his mouth opening to graze his just brushed teeth against your shoulder, an act of claiming. He hums around it, eyes narrowed as if it’d help him listen to your high pitched whines for more better, cock throbbing inside of your tiny hole at the lewd squelch he fucks out of you each time he fully sheathes inside. “Sounds like y’wanna be a mommy— fuck, I’ll make ya one—” he promises, punctuating his assurance with deeper thrusts to make sure you know just how serious he is. Because beyond just how sexy the thought alone of creaming your pretty pussy is, he also can’t deny how hard his heart beats at the chance of tying the knot with you by way of knocking you up— preferably right here and now. “Feel s’fuckin’ good babe— God.” He moans, voice still laced with gravelly sleep, digging his chest into your back to try and bend you over further in the shower so he can properly mount you, a prime breeding position for his full balls to empty into. And you’re taking him so well, such a good girl for him to breed, moaning prettily and offering your hole up for him with such ease, fuck. He can’t stop himself from fucking you, frankly. Just a dumb dog in heat, breeding his favorite bitch in his favorite position— doggy style. The sight of you bent over and so submissive before him just does things to him. Drives him crazy with need for you when you present yourself like this, allowing him to do whatever he wants to you so long as you get your little hole filled. Loves it so much that he’s already close, pinching your sides with urgency as he feels the way you cunt tries to keep him buried deep inside, sucks him in harder each time he tries to pull his hips back. If he couldn’t hear how clearly you wanted him to cum inside from your gasped whines then he sure as fuck can tell from how receptive your body is to him. And he yearns for it too, driving his cock as fast as he can into you and bullying his tip to your cervix to increase the likelihood of breeding you.

And he doesn’t even have time to think about satisfying you first, too caught up in his selfish desires to watch his cum drip from your cute little cunt to regard you with even an ounce of careful attention. It’s all happened so fast, so intense is his need to breed that he can only lay over you panting, tongue lolling out to help him gulp down more air so that he can continued fucking you like his life depended on it, wet slaps ringing in his ears to match your soft squeaks and drawled moans. He’s so in love. So desperately, infuriatingly, devastatingly in love with you that the only logical conclusion in his current horny with love drunk state is to keep pounding into you. His thrusts growing sloppier the louder and more attention seeking you get, begging for something, but he can’t hear you all too clearly. Not when he’s struggling to keep his breath from the amount of whines your cunt pulls from his own throat, doing his best to listen intently to the smack of his balls against your slit, water running between his body and your own to increase the wet suck you offer his cock— no, he can’t hear your cries. Can only feel how tight your hole gets as he shoves his hips right against you, grinding his length into you in short snap thrusts that make his eyes roll back with just how nice it feels to be completely enveloped by you. “Gonna— Fuck me— Gonna cum inside, kay?” He pouts down at you, adopting a babying tone as if he was mocking you. “’N ya can’t get away— shit, keep ya pinned against me, yeah? Make me a daddy, fuck, please—” his tone increases in pitch the more he babbles, head thrown back the second you let you a small sound of agreement between your incoherent whimpers and he’s done for. Your tight cunt promising to milk him dry as he fucks his cock into you with stuttering half thrusts, fucked himself stupid into your tight little hole that he doesn’t even have the mind to warn you before it happens. He isn’t even embarrassed about how quickly he’s filling up your cunt because if anything, he thinks it serves to show you just how much he loves you. Can’t compose himself enough to hold back for you, continuing short little humps into you to fuck his cum back in as he shoots his load right against your cervix, panting your name over and over again as if it’s the only thing he remembers— and it might as well be from how well you empty him. Balls deep in your cunt and he still can’t stop his hips from moving, circling his cock inside of you until he’s well and truly painted your insides white, a few drops of his seed leaking from your overstuffed cunt and down the drain with the water.

Even if he wanted to talk after such a quick fuck he can’t, left stunned and satisfied (albeit a bit sore from the cramped space of your shower) and it’s still morning. Plenty more day left to fuck you pregnant some more. His grip on your waist growing softer as he slowly pulls out of your used hole, only to immediately plug it with his fingers with a terse smile on his lips. “Don’t want any spillin’ out.” He admits, cooing down at your sensitive sounds from being touched so soon after such a rough session.

“Round two after a shower.” He perks up, playfully slapping your ass and laughing lightheartedly at your pouty whine. He may have acted on a whim this morning, but given just how good it felt cumming inside of you, he’s more resolved than ever to make your wishes come true. Tonight, he’ll make sure your fantasies are fulfilled— whether you like it or not.

#sdv smut #stardew valley smut #sdv sam smut #- writing

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less-than-three-3 · 8 months

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Lies of P might be the best souls game I've played

this is only half a joke tbh

There's so much talk about how yeah it might be one of the best soulslikes out there but it still can't reach the quality of the Fromsoft games and I'm just like... no, Neowiz has really got the baton and delivered a really great evolution of the linear Souls "genre".

There are definitely some rough spots (but so do the Souls games) but what they've presented and improved on is truly magnificent. It's not Bloodborne x Sekiro (PLEASE STOP SAYING THIS OML), but it is very much its own thing and does what it sets out to do very well, in a lot of aspects. Full ramblings below, some spoilers likely.

I want to preface everything I am going to say by reiterating that, though this delivers a lot of Souls elements excellently (and some not), this is very much its own game, and not only stands on its own two feet but runs a mile with them. I feel like a lot of folks play Soulslike games (even by Fromsoft themselves lol) and expect all their skills and knowledge to transfer over, or expect mechanics to work and present themselves just like in Souls games, and it's because those are the golden standard for many people. I get it, but it's still kind of meaningless - not because "the games can't compete/compare with them" but because they do different things and excel at providing different experiences; they may be "souls-like" in nature but there are so many different directions one could take with the genre.

And so I was elated to really get to know the mechanics of Lies of P (I'll refer to it as LoP). I won't lie, when I played the demo, I didn't really get it yet, so I definitely felt a little frustrated, but once you get the hang of it, the controls are so satisfying the whole way through (like the Souls games! wow!). I think maybe a lot of people forget that this learning curve is a huge part of what makes the Souls games tick, because they've put in so many hours into "getting good", and so when they have to go back up the curve, they feel frustrated again.

The main thing is, obviously, the parry system, which is pretty much the mechanic LoP really uses to separate itself from the From catalogue. Is it like Sekiro? Yeah sure yes both games use perfect parries to build stagger, but I contend that it is even still very distinct from Sekiro's parry system. In Sekiro, the game is the parry system, it's more or less how you actually kill most bosses, with Vitality only acting as a way to make progress to help you build up stagger.

In LoP, there's two big things that make it very different. The first is obvious as soon as you fight that first big dude with the parry tooltip - attack patterns are not nearly as rhythmic and fast paced as in Sekiro, mostly. Long windups and big tells make some aspects of getting used to parrying easy, but at the same time the timings can be very tricky and can demand a lot of attention. This alone really contributes to a very different game feel, even though they are both, nominally "perfect parry" systems.

Another thing is that the parry timing window is quite tight. Some would say it's too tight, but I honestly think a lot would be lost if the parrying were too easy. In Sekiro, the parry window is actually quite wide, but locks you out and heavily punishes you for fishing for parries, forcing you to be methodical and patient even if fights get hectic. In LoP, it's quite the opposite - there's a lot of time between attacks often, and it forces decision making and risk/reward between attempting to parry, blocking (and taking the rally-able damage), dodging, or hitting them (and maybe having time to parry or dodge still).

The delicate balance between these options is very important; if parrying were always the right option, then yeah it would just be Sekiro - that's not interesting. But perfect parrying is not the only way to build stagger which makes all options at least somewhat useful, and you can even build your p-organ (lol) and whetstone to help you build stagger with just attacks, more like Elden Ring's charged R2 stagger fishing. Sometimes if you aren't comfortable with a parry timing, then the right play is to dodge or block. Insisting there is only one right answer for approaching any given boss is inherently antithetical to this game's design - and I'd argue to Souls games in general.

And this brings me to another common complaint - the dodge isn't that good, and upgrade should not have been locked behind p-organ. I also really disagree with this, in part because I didn't actually really think the p-organ upgrades were that game changing. But it is also in part that if the dodge is too strong, like a DS3 roll, then again that balance is thrown out of wack and dodging becomes the right answer too often. This is still a "parry game", and if dodge becomes preferable to parrying, that's an issue. Parrying shouldn't be the only answer, but it also shouldn't be much weaker than other options. Additionally, having an especially weaker dodge at the beginning forces those stubborn Souls players to stop mashing the dodge button and force them to actually learn and engage with the parry mechanics - nudging you to learn without blatantly telling you to.

I did really enjoy the p-organ as a way to express and expand a player's build choices, though I felt like some nodes and slots were just completely useless, and the choice for which 2 nodes to go for was too obvious. If it were, for example, +1 heal, improved dodge, increased stagger damage, and damage mitigation, or something, that's a very compelling choice to do. But I don't use the cube and I don't think the stagger window is too short, etc., so I felt like some slots were just not that interesting. Phase 4 is a great example of a very compelling node choice, and I wished all of them were like that.

Though speaking of build choices, holy fucking shit this game's build options are SO COOL! I absolutely loved the modular weapon system, and I respecced a good few times to play with various different weapon combinations. The boss weapons were a little disappointing to me but that's ok because goddamn the weapon customization system carried the hell out of the game. I do wish the slash vs. stab proficiency wasn't as prominent but even with that, I was able to make so many silly weapons. Big sawblade baton/cleaver (which carried a lot of my playthrough), rocket wrench, crit dagger spear, etc.

Being able to use a blade I liked, keeping its upgrades, with a new handle that has a new moveset is just such an incredible idea that I can't believe From never thought of something like it. Each part also has their own weapon arts, and while they were a little homogenous at times, this kind of system has huge potential, especially if you can make it Ash of War-like and become a third layer of modularity. For a build diversity fanatic this was a goldmine, and I can see myself replaying it to get the other endings with a bunch of other weapon combinations and builds. For me, this was easily the best part of the game.

Something else I really liked that I think maybe would go under the wayside in discussions is how they present the story and quests. Souls fans might not like it if it feels too "handholdy" but I really appreciated the game telling me "yeah this NPC has shit to say to you right now". And the story itself was honestly pretty impressive, with some Souls-like "world discovery" moments but also mainly straightforwardly presenting moments and arcs, however intertwined. I did not expect what outwardly just looks like an edgy Pinocchio adaptation to have so much interesting lore, history, and plot moments. Probably one of the biggest surprise hits of the game for me.

But for as much as they really took the Souls formula and ran with it and elevated it, there are definitely some things I wished were improved on. The map design, both visually and in layout, was pretty disappointing. It's aesthetically good for sure, but nowhere near what From delivers. And in terms of layout, the maps are really quite linear, sure with twists and turns but hardly any exploration or branches to check out - map design elements I have come to know and love from playing the Soulsborne games.

Boss design I also felt was just a bit too inspired from Souls. Don't get me wrong, I think the boss quality is actually quite high and fits very well generally with the game's mechanics. But there are some bosses where I'm just like, ok I get why you wanted to include this because Souls has a habit of doing these, but you really didn't have to. There are a couple of bosses with extra appendages that swing after attacks (one especially takes after Gael, which I know people love, but..), and that's just really annoying to try to parry and I feel like I either end up bsing the parry, or I just eat the block chip damage. There are couple gank bosses... woo... I guess... But I did really enjoy most of the bosses (though nothing is breaking my top 10, probably). Just, I could really tell that this sure is a love letter to the Souls games from the boss design lol.

The music is actually quite good - boss themes and especially the records you collect are beautiful. But I am once again pretty disappointed by most of the game just being silent, which is a carry over from the Souls trilogy that I really wish did not carry over. Especially because there are segments that do have music that I really loved - notably the final area and the church with the organ music playing that fades out as you get further away from the main chapel. I dunno, it's not really worse than in the Souls games, but it just stings that much more that there is some really great music that they kind of just confine to the record player, which shows to me that they can make great ambient music but just didn't want to make any for the actual areas.

But despite that, overall, I truly loved playing this game. I think I honestly enjoyed it more than the Souls trilogy for sure, and maybe even more than Bloodborne (Sekiro and Elden Ring are still solidly near-perfect experiences and hard to beat). It plays nothing like Bloodborne, and is very distinct from Sekiro and the Souls games; it very boldly and excellently carves its own space within the genre. And with that post-credits scene (for which the big reveal was fucking hilarious), I surely cannot wait for what they make next, either a sequel or DLC, and the improvements they'll bring, as they expand this fairy-tale-verse (lol).

#lies of p

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