#hyper princess pitch

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Hyper Princess Pitch (2011)

[prilaja-artblog]

Ludosity characters in Wind Waker style! They are here to cause chaos while looking cute doing so. Probably.

[petikgeorgiev]

Tumblr also gets to see this atrocity I made about a year and a half ago.

[kaladinkholins]

Very interesting to me that a certain subset of the BES fandom's favourite iterations of Mizu and Akemi are seemingly rooted in the facades they have projected towards the world, and are not accurate representations of their true selves.

And I see this is especially the case with Mizu, where fanon likes to paint her as this dominant, hyper-masculine, smirking Cool GuyTM who's going to give you her strap. And this idea of Mizu is often based on the image of her wearing her glasses, and optionally, with her cloak and big, wide-brimmed kasa.

And what's interesting about this, to me, is that fanon is seemingly falling for her deliberate disguise. Because the glasses (with the optional combination of cloak and hat) represent Mizu's suppression of her true self. She is playing a role.

Take this scene of Mizu in the brothel in Episode 4 for example. Here, not only is Mizu wearing her glasses to symbolise the mask she is wearing, but she is purposely acting like some suave and cocky gentleman, intimidating, calm, in control. Her voice is even deeper than usual, like what we hear in her first scene while facing off with Hachiman the Flesh-Trader in Episode 1.

This act that Mizu puts on is an embodiment of masculine showboating, which is highly effective against weak and insecure men like Hachi, but also against women like those who tried to seduce her at the Shindo House.

And that brings me to how Mizu's mask is actually a direct parallel to Akemi's mask in this very same scene.

Here, Akemi is also putting up an act, playing up her naivety and demure girlishness, using her high-pitched lilted voice, complimenting Mizu and trying to make small talk, all so she can seduce and lure Mizu in to drink the drugged cup of sake.

So what I find so interesting and funny about this scene, characters within it, and the subsequent fandom interpretations of both, is that everyone seems to literally be falling for the mask that Mizu and Akemi are putting up to conceal their identities, guard themselves from the world, and get what they want.

It's also a little frustrating because the fanon seems to twist what actually makes Mizu and Akemi's dynamic so interesting by flattening it completely. Because both here and throughout the story, Mizu and Akemi's entire relationship and treatment of each other is solely built off of masks, assumptions, and misconceptions.

Akemi believes Mizu is a selfish, cocky male samurai who destroyed her ex-fiance's career and life, and who abandoned her to let her get dragged away by her father's guards and forcibly married off to a man she didn't know. on the other hand, Mizu believes Akemi is bratty, naive princess who constantly needs saving and who can't make her own decisions.

These misconceptions are even evident in the framing of their first impressions of each other, both of which unfold in these slow-motion POV shots.

Mizu's first impression of Akemi is that of a beautiful, untouchable princess in a cage. Swirling string music in the background.

Akemi's first impression of Mizu is of a mysterious, stoic "demon" samurai who stole her fiance's scarf. Tense music and the sound of ocean waves in the background.

And then, going back to that scene of them together in Episode 4, both Mizu and Akemi continue to fool each other and hold these assumptions of each other, and they both feed into it, as both are purposely acting within the suppressive roles society binds them to in order to achieve their goals within the means they are allowed (Akemi playing the part of a subservient woman; Mizu playing the part of a dominant man).

But then, for once in both their lives, neither of their usual tactics work.

Akemi is trying to use flattery and seduction on Mizu, but Mizu sees right through it, knowing that Akemi is just trying to manipulate and harm her. Rather than give in to Akemi's tactics, Mizu plays with Akemi's emotions by alluding to Taigen's death, before pinning her down, and then when she starts crying, Mizu just rolls her eyes and tells her to shut up.

On the opposite end, when Mizu tries to use brute force and intimidation, Akemi also sees right through it, not falling for it, and instead says this:

"Under your mask, you're not the killer you pretend to be."

Nonetheless, despite the fact that they see a little bit through each other's masks, they both still hold their presumptions of each other until the very end of the season, with Akemi seeing Mizu as an obnoxious samurai swooping in to save the day, and Mizu seeing Akemi as a damsel in distress.

And what I find a bit irksome is that the fandom also resorts to flattening them to these tropes as well.

Because Mizu is not some cool, smooth-talking samurai with a big dick sword as Akemi (and the fandom) might believe. All of that is the facade she puts up and nothing more. In reality, Mizu is an angry, confused and lonely child, and a masterful artist, who is struggling against her own self-hatred. Master Eiji, her father figure who knows her best, knows this.

And Akemi, on the other hand, is not some girly, sweet, vain and spoiled princess as Mizu might believe. Instead she has never cared for frivolous things like fashion, love or looks, instead favouring poetry and strategy games instead, and has always only cared about her own independence. Seki, her father figure who knows her best, knows this.

But neither is she some authoritative dominatrix, though this is part of her new persona that she is trying to project to get what she wants. Because while Akemi is willful, outspoken, intelligent and authoritative, she can still be naive! She is still often unsure and needs to have her hand held through things, as she is still learning and growing into her full potential. Her new parental/guardian figure, Madame Kaji, knows this as well.

So with all that being said, now that we know that Mizu and Akemi are essentially wearing masks and putting up fronts throughout the show, what would a representation of Mizu's and Akemi's true selves actually look like? Easy. It's in their hair.

This shot on the left is the only time we see Mizu with her hair completely down. In this scene, she's being berated by Mama, and her guard is completely down, she has no weapon, and is no longer wearing any mask, as this is after she showed Mikio "all of herself" and tried to take off the mask of a subservient housewife. Thus, here, she is sad, vulnerable, and feeling small (emphasised further by the framing of the scene). This is a perfect encapsulation of what Mizu is on the inside, underneath all the layers of revenge-obsession and the walls she's put around herself.

In contrast, the only time we Akemi with her hair fully down, she is completely alone in the bath, and this scene takes place after being scorned by her father and left weeping at his feet. But despite all that, Akemi is headstrong, determined, taking the reigns of her life as she makes the choice to run away, but even that choice is reflective of her youthful naivety. She even gets scolded by Seki shortly after this in the next scene, because though she wants to be independent, she still hasn't completely learned to be. Not yet. Regardless, her decisiveness and moment of self-empowerment is emphasised by the framing of the scene, where her face takes up the majority of the shot, and she stares seriously into the middle distance.

To conclude, I wish popular fanon would stop mischaracterising these two, and flattening them into tropes and stereotypes (ie. masculine badass swordsman Mizu and feminine alluring queen but also girly swooning damsel Akemi), all of which just seems... reductive. It also irks me when Akemi is merely upheld as a love interest and romantic device for Mizu and nothing more, when she is literally Mizu's narrative foil (takes far more narrative precedence over romantic interest) and the deuteragonist of this show. She is her own person. That is literally the theme of her entire character and arc.

[muntitled]

𝐒𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 | 𝐇𝐚𝐳𝐞𝐥 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐧

Hazel Callahan x F!Reader

Summary: "Jesus, dude, do you know what it means when a gay girl says they wanna have a "slumber party?"

Warnings: Hyper Feminine!Reader, Language, Fluff, Jealousy, Humor, Reader has a crush, Confessions, Teasing, Smut (+18, Minors DNI), Dom!Hazel, Humping, Grinding, Masturbation, Pillowprincess!Reader tbh, Thigh Riding, Public sex, Risky Sex, Massive Degradation Kink, Power Play, Ownership Kink?, Praise Kink, Slight!Hate sex ♡

Part two >

Hazel Callahan was rarely included into anything vaguely external, she would venture to say that she was even rarely included in her own thoughts. Therefore, infuriatingly, painfully aloof Hazel thought nothing of the invite you had presented to the entire group at Fight Club.

Why should she feel special?

Things like this seldom warranted her definite response, so when all the girls had affirmed their attendance, Hazel was... discombobulated to find a silence of anticipation growing pregnant in the gym.

It took a sharp stab in the ribs from PJ for Hazel to swing her head back into this specific reality in the space-time continuum. A reality in which you sat adjacent to her in a circle, legs crossed dainty underneath you to better accommodate the neatly pressed pleads in your pink skirt. There was nothing remarkably profound from you carrying yourself like the pretty princess you thought you were, what strikes Hazel as odd, however, was the look of expectancy in your dark eyes- a look you directed at… her?

"What?"

"You're coming? To my slumber party tonight?" you reiterate stifling the need to pat down at your braids corralled into a pink headband. You are basking under the scrutiny of her gaze but you also happened to suffer under it too. The longer Hazel watched you with furrowed brows, and her knee propped up to her chest, the longer you keened forward as if desperate to hear her say-

"Of course she's coming," PJ once again injects herself in between the two of you. "We'll all be there," You're perhaps nodding at PJ and Josie but your eyes are unable to leave the absolute prison that Hazel has them in. She does nothing except nod as well, before leaving you to your clique who all sit prettily under clouds of Chanel number 5.

The interaction replayed within the confines of Hazel's head throughout the rest of the school day. Right up until she finds herself, nestled in a car with Josie and PJ, taking the short drive in the more affluent neighbourhood from her place to yours.

"So, Hazel," the lascivious tone in PJ's voice already has her rolling her eyes as the car slows before an egregious house. "Are you ready to lose your virginity tonight?"

"Jesus Christ-" Murmurs Josie before PJ assumes what is expected to be your tone of voice- only its a hyperbolic and a higher in pitch reenactment of the real thing.

"Oh Hazel! I'd really like for you to come to my slumber party tonight!" All three girls leave the car as PJ continues her comedic display of seduction as she brushes up against Hazel and says "I really want you at my slumber party."

Hazel laughs as PJ grabs a hold of her upper arm, exposed from her open black button up and tank top. "You're coming right?" PJ sobers up as she says, "That's hot girl speak for "You're going to be cumming inside me-"

Josie does not keep her eyes off the approaching house as she interjects with, "Girls can't cum in other girls"

"Wow!" Hollers PJ, "-And here I was thinking you actually believed that girls can do everything that guys can do-"

"Wait," Hazel's eyes are on her shoes as she readjusts her tote bag and says, "You think she actually wants to like... fuck?" She lowers her voice drastically in the wake of making it up to your front door as she bends and reiterates, "Like actually fuck me?"

There is, frankly no time for Hazel to get a firm response on such a discombobulating thought because you quickly open the front door, and your skin is glowing everywhere from being completely exposed in your pink satin shorts and matching camisole set. Your hair is still loose as it frames your face- your round and constantly smiling face. Why had Hazel never noticed you until now?

Perhaps she did.

Perhaps she negated the possibility of forming a crush on you because you appeared so painfully… straight?

But here you are, smiling at her and only her. Your eyes had been bright at the sight of Hazel and her button up and how outrageously attractive she looked in a tank top but your smile dims significantly when you peer down at PJ'S hand still wrapped around Hazel's forearm.

"H-Hey," Said Hazel, with her voice that reminded you so vividly of a midnight snowstorm,

"Hey," you replied back, quickly turning away. Your mood had already been cemented for the rest of the evening. Despite it being your slumber party, you let your best friend host while you continued to wallow in the regret of your own unshakeable feelings. You hated that PJ and Hazel were very clearly a couple, but what you hated perhaps more, was that you still wanted her. You stole longing glances at her in your space, lazing on your bed while the rest of you sat encircled on the floor in sleeping bags. Hazel completely hijacked your entire brain throughout all the games and activities.

You had lost yourself in her presence and that only kicked up a notch when you felt a pair of forearms lazily splay onto your shoulders from above. With your bum still on the floor and your back against the foot of your bed, Hazel had decided to humour her turn in Truth or Dare. While she answered, she let her legs frame your body. So that it swung over the side of the bed, perfectly framing your sides.

Breathing had been impossible. So impossible in fact, you didn't know it was your turn until it took Hazel bringing her lips down to your ear. Your nerves had been shot to hell as she whispered, "Dove, it's your turn."

You cursed this idea and you cursed this wretched slumber party.

Luckily, It passed by in a significant blur that left you still riding on the high of being in Hazel's personal space until bedtime at 1am. While the girl's drifted into their own sleep, your eyes remained on the pink chandelier hanging from your ceiling while you cradled your stuffed frog to your chest. No matter how hard you try, sleep is a difficult thing to come by. You are left to your thoughts of the girl sleeping on the floor, while gentle snores sounded in the room.

"Fuck," you almost instinctively mutter as you find your hand drifting past your navel. You spread your leg ever so slightly before pushing your hand into your underwear. The quicker you came, the quicker your body could finally be allowed to slip into actual slumber. It sounded like a solid plan, and you had already taken to grinding your wet cunt against your hand- until it all went to hell and your duvet is being pulled slightly off of you.

You're quick to remove your hand and grab a hold of your covers as your eyes snap open to stare at the silhouette above you. Hazel's hair is a spectacular mess on her head and her skin shines orange from the glow of your salt lamp.

"Let me in," she whispers, not really waiting for a response before she's forcing herself into your covers, scooching you on the right side of the bed.

"What are you-"

"Shh," it's embarrassing, how quick you are to snap your mouth shut and heed her commands. Hazel's stomach warms significantly at how docile you are and she smiles as she says, "I cant sleep and I had the vague suspicion that you couldn't either." Hazel says, propping her exposed forearm under her head as she looks up at your ceiling. Her button up is discarded somewhere in the room, leaving her in basketball shorts and a tank but you're not complaining. Not at all.

"I told myself I'd be more intentional with my actions, and my actions are telling me to kiss you right now, but my feelings are telling me you might not want that." You're corraled into stark and naked shock as you watch the girl you've always wanted, confess to you in your bed. It feels unreal. The longing stares, the hours you've spent writing amatuer poetry in your notes app about her, the amount of times you made yourself cum with her heavy on your mind.

This does not feel real.

"Jesus," your voice is uncharacteristically coarse as you rush to say, "Dude, do you know what it means when a gay girl says they wanna have a "slumber party."

Hazel appears stunned as she watches you with wide eyes, "Well yeah," Says Hazel, "but… do you know what it means?"

"I've liked you since junior year," Your confession has her mind going hazy as she tries to recall all the subtle hints which she effortlessly discarded as you just being kind.

"God, you're such an idiot!" You release a chuckle that momentarily stirs a sleeping girl laying closest to the bed in her sleeping bag.

"Shh," Hazel's finger is pressed softly to her lips, you nod slowly only able to process mimicking her own actions.

"What were you doing just a second ago?" She says, swiftly removing the attention from her and her stupidity, replacing the atmosphere instead, with something much more dangerous. There's a difference in her whispers, a tone that has you melting into the covers as you unconsciously squeeze your legs shut. In this moment, she could ask anything of you, and you would simply comply. The silence stretches like honey between the two of you, and Hazel watches with doe eyes as you sink into your shame.

"You don't have to say anything." She finally whispers back, freeing you from your internal damnation but not completely letting you off the hook as she continues: "Just move your hips for me." It was an aggressively passive instruction that exploded a bundle of charged electricity between your legs. You are trapped in a distinctly uncomfortable position between wanting to comply, but wanting to be stubborn. The discomfort of these emotions are not entirely unwanted.

"Do you want me to show you how?" There is a challenging glint in her eyes that simulates the peroration of whatever the hell this is that you are both about to do.

This non-relationship which is so innately a relationship.

"Yeah." Your voice rocks with the signs of an oncoming tempest alerting your body to the possibility of something very, very exciting on the horizon.

Time and space seems so few and far in-between as Hazel keeps you arrested in those blue, endless hues. Examining her features keeps your wanton, unwinding nerves chaotically at bay. There is an intense exchange of control as Hazel shuffles closer, until her head is resting on your pillow and your both breathing into each other's parted lips.

She almost restlessly sets her palm onto your body, her hands on a slow path down your hips. It gives you a sliver of control knowing that bubbling behind her dilated pupils is a need that haunts her just as greatly.

"I'm gonna show you, okay?" She does not need to repeat herself but you recognize her words for what they are: masked behind the excitement and the charged atmosphere, is a real, and genuine need for consent.

The very moment you hopped over this threshold, you would forever be locked in a world anew. There would be no take backs. Your actions would forever be transcribed on the sacred tablet of our shared history.

"Are you going to show me, Hazel?" Desire is seated comfortably on top of your lungs and you speak only in soft pants, "Because it really feels like you're all bark and no bite."

There is a flash of excitement that sweeps momentarily over her lidded lustful gaze.

Her hands are much more sure of themselves as they lock into your sides, her fingers digging rudely into your silk pyjama bottoms.

"Shouldn't you be taking those off?" You ask cheekily.

A scoff slips through her lips as she shifts just a tad closer, her face now centimetres from yours. "You're awfully needy." Hazel whispers, "It's incredibly embarrassing."

What would prove to be even more embarrassing is the jarring way your hips stutter the very moment those words leave Hazel's lips. Your accidentally whorish slip up might have gone unnoticed were it not for the annoying fact that her right leg was seated quite cosily between your legs.

"Shut up," is all you manage to say - a desperate attempt at scrambling for your dignity crumbling in the bed between you.

Hazel laughs airly. Slowly, her hands at your hip begin to move, subsequently allowing your hips to move. A soft and slow moan passes through your lips, drowned out by the sound of sleeping girls as your eyes flutter shut.

"Hey," Hazel's lips are fully touching yours now, "Look at me." She could've never anticipated how the fucked out look in your eyes could ever make her feel. Your eyebrows are curved, as if you're in pain as you hump slowly against her thigh. The coarseness of the silk and her thigh pressing against your aching cunt… it makes everything feel so overwhelmingly real, unmarred by great expectations. The thump of her heart underneath your palm is so incredibly real. The beads of sweat growing pregnant on her forehead are real. Her dry, parted lips pressed against yours is in fact real.

"What are you thinking about?" It strikes you then that you had been a muddled, mindless haze, humping against her thigh with an urgency.

"I'm thinking about you." You reply, truthfully.

"Good things, I hope?" It is so unimaginable, the way her voice is able to remain so incredibly steady while yours is as shaky as a walrus thumping across an icy lake.

"I don't suspect anyone has ever had a single good thought about you." You shoot back and the fingers gripping your hips lock tighter, nearly prompting you to apologise.

The only other option left for you to exhaust is clamping your mouth shut as Hazel's hand assumed a much more aggressive administration. She grips on the plush skin at your sides with an unnecessary hardness, as if she wanted to tear in into you.

"See, I was gonna fuck you," it is absolutely shameful, the whimper that escapes your lips, "But now I'm gonna make you hump my leg like the slutty little girl you are." Before you could scold her, or perhaps violently disagree, rudely, before your cries of indignation could ever be forced out, Hazel is lifting you up from your side of the bed, her head shifting until her brown curls cover your pillow fully.

She turns onto her back, never releasing eye contact as she forces you down so you're straddling her steepled knee. The new position leaves you searching for a new anchor.

"Your hands are pushing down on my hair-" she grumble-whispers.

"If you'd let me finish faster that wouldn't be as much of a problem now, would it?" Hazel's response, in lieu of her thoroughly unimpressed face, had been to grind her thigh further against your core, eliciting a wanton, broken moan into the air.

"You're gonna have to be quiet, Dove." Her voice is gravel, "Wouldn't want anyone seeing how much of my whore you are, would you?" The sound of your own moans slam back into you as you press your pussy incredibly closer to her leg.

"Imagine what they might think of you? Our little star pupil getting herself off on my leg? Is that really all it takes to please you?" Staying quiet had become an unimaginable feat, a mountain that becomes even more difficult to surmount when Hazel's eyes search frantically over your crippling form for a trigger that might send you over the edge.

You couldn't begin to imagine how powerful she must feel watching your hips move wantonly on her thigh while your hooded eyes displayed desperation.

You feel so thoroughly hers, a previous existence in which you went without her hard ministrations guiding you to orgasm felt completely in vain. You want nothing more than to be so incredibly good to her, and the thought that she might want the same way sends you to an early grave.

"You're doing so well, Baby. Keeping going." An embarrassing wave of pleasure ripped straight through your spine leaving a trail of shivers in its wake. There is no mistaking that your reaction to her praise and her validation had not gone unnoticed.

Your pussy is completely soaked against her leg, burdened with the knowledge that it wants something but it didn't exactly know what.

"I need you," you whisper. Before your own shame might wave away the pleasure, you are delighted at the moan that slips through Hazel's parted lips.

You had been so thoroughly enamoured by your own pleasure, you had not stopped to consider hers. The pillow princess stereotype brought with it a wave of shame as you looked down and found her hips stuttering slowly against yours.

"I'm right here, Dove."

And you both began to melt for each other. Your legs are tangled in one another while her thigh is pressed against your clit at the same time your thigh is pressed between her legs as well.

You are pleasantly surprised when you begin to feel the fabric of Hazel shorts moving against your own legs slotted in between her. You didn't have to picture how gloriously lecherous it might have looked, using each other so blatantly to fulfil a need that had begun simmering since forever. "Oh fuck, you're so pretty," her hand finds purchase against your breast, tweaking your nipples until they hardened against the camisole while her other hand was comfortably gripping your jaw, staring up at you with lustful eyes.

"You don't even know how perfect you look right now," you did not speak a word of a lie. Watching Hazel's long and domineering form writhing underneath you is a mental image you wish to keep stored in your chest of sacred memories forever. It is discombobulating, watching someone so used to walking so tall and unbothered, being made a complete mess underneath you.

You never wanted this moment to end.

"I want you to kiss me." She croaks, despite already bringing your face close to hers by the strength of a single grip. Her eyes search yours for something. You only hope that grinding yourself even faster against her leg is a testament to whatever it is she might've been looking for. Soon, her lips crash onto yours. When Hazel Callahan kisses, she kisses sloppily and disastrously as if she wanted to swallow you whole before you ever thought of escaping. Her lips are all encompassing, her tongue is restless, pushing itself into your mouth with avid determination.

You moan softly into her mouth. A sound she appreciates greatly given the way her hips began to move against your thigh with a matching ferocity. Her hand slithers along your back, until she cups a handful of your ass, dragging your pussy once again against her, at her desired pace.

Rough. Arresting. Frantic.

"You're being too loud," She sighs, breaking away from your lips to trail them down your neck. "You're being too fucking loud-"

"Fuck, Hazel I'm close-" Your legs are locked against hers but the hand on your ass keeps your hips moving by proxy. "I'm so close."

"You're gonna cum for me, Dove?"

"Oh God, I love it when you call me that-" There is an embarrassing pool of wetness accumulated between your legs, dripping through your shorts and onto her skin. She is equally as wet and that fact only spurs you on.

"I need you to cum for me, baby?" Her stuttering hips told you her own release is dangerously close, sitting on the horizon. Perhaps your orgasm had bled into something prideful, her need to make you cum first caused her to delay her own release.

"You're fucking unbelievable." You sigh with troubled realisation.

She uncovers herself from your chest, panting heavily without her hips ever stopping. "You're gonna cum first, okay?" She nods, persuading you to mimic her movements because despite everything, you are putty in her hands.

"Okay."

As she kisses you once more her hand travels back to your now exposed boob. Between your kiss, Hazel had somehow managed to haphazardly lift your camisole enough to expose your breasts.

A straggled sound leaves the back of your throat as your orgasm crested.

She succeeded in making a mess of you. Your hair had been set free, braids spilling like wild snakes down your torso.

"Oh God, oh fuck-" a hand slaps over your mouth. Hazel's eyes are wide as she continues to guide your hips to release.

"Such a good little Dove, aren't you?" Your eyes are blown with stars and pixie dust as you nod drunkenly. She's humping your thigh and you're humping hers and soon the orgasm sneaks up on you, stealing your breath right from inside your lungs. Your strangled moan is muffled by her palm.

Her eyes take it all in with a very certain hunger, drifting from watching her own hips grinding your thigh, to the choked expression of utter euphoria splashed against your face.

"Fuck, baby." Her Eyebrows knot as her breathing picks up. The pressure visibly building across her face is nearly enough to send you back into your pool of euphoria.

"Oh fuck- oh baby," The wave of pleasure that courses through her is violent and incredibly validating. It is you who had gotten her to this point, humping your leg so desperately as if it might be the only thing she could ever hope to achieve. For someone who had built such a notable reputation for always mainting an I-dont-give-a-fuck mentality, this feels like an immense achievement for you.

Once the smoke clears, and Hazel finds herself back on planet earth, the relics of her euphoria register as intermittent aftershocks. The dawn of what you had just done begins to settle and almost instinctively, you revert to your teasing.

"How nice of you to finally join us," you are still hovering above her, her long neck craning to look at you.

"You talk a lot of shit for someone who squeaks when she cums."

The dampness between your legs is a reminder. "You're gonna learn to take just as much as you give sooner or later," You don't miss the hint of a promise thinly veneered along that whisper. Choosing to ignore the fluttering in the pit of my stomach at the sound of it alone, you climb off of her and back to your space on the bed.

"What's its name?" Hazel asks, peering into the darkness to bring your stuffed frog back into your arms. "You strike me as someone who gives their stuffed toys names."

You're still out of breathe as you reply, "Texas,"

She cracks a smile at that. Before you can finally drift off, a hand slips across your hip, trailing over your torso before brushing over your breast and staying there. "I'm gonna buy you one...I wanna watch you hump it like you just did my leg okay?"

All you're able to do is nod.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Big Boss II

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You're not just Not-Wolfsburg's Big Boss

You're a very good Big Boss.

You know this because Coach Emma and your mothers tell you so.

Sometimes though, you wish you weren't the Big Boss of Chelsea.

Specifically, now.

You wiggle happily in your seat as you sit in a video review session. The team are playing Arsenal at the weekend and you swing your legs back and forth as some of your favourite players appear on the screen.

"That's Daan!" You tell Jessie and Niamh. "She's so cool!"

Niamh looks at you a little wounded. "Cooler than us?"

You give her a look. "Of course! 'Cause she's Arsenal."

"Maybe tone down the love, princesse," Momma laughs as she moves to sit in your seat, swinging you up into her lap," We're still Chelsea here."

You sigh. "Why? Morsa says that if I love something I should let people know."

"I think she meant someone's cooking or a game, not one of our rivals."

"But why?"

"Well..." Momma has to think for a second. "Because being a good Big Boss means that you have to take into account other people's feelings. Jessie and Niamh might feel sad if you keep talking about Arsenal."

You hadn't thought about that before so you slump in Momma's lap.

"Sorry," You murmur. You shouldn't lie but if it's to save someone's feelings you think it's okay like that time Morsa lied about how your cookies tasted even though you know that you put salt in one of them by accident.

You wiggle on Momma's lap excitedly though at the thought of seeing the Arsenal girls again. Leah and Katie are super cool and Jill's tall so you climb up onto her shoulders so you can be tall too. Beth and Daan are extra special though because every time you see them, they give you a juice box and a snack.

You kick your legs out a little as you wonder what snacks Daan will give you this time.

"That's Leah!" You say before turning around in Momma's lap to peek over her shoulder at Morsa," Is she better than you?"

Morsa chokes a little bit, thumping her chest as she coughs. "What?"

"Cause you and her play the same position," You explain like Morsa's slow," Is she better than you?"

"Princesse," Morsa says in shock," What makes you think she's better than me?"

You shrug. "Dunno. That's why I'm asking."

"Just because she's Arsenal doesn't mean she's better than me," Morsa says," I'm one of the best."

"Was just asking!" You defend, sticking your tongue out," Momma says that if I ever wonder about something it's better to ask!"

When game day rolls around, you're very excited.

You're excited for every match day but especially against Arsenal. You get up extra early and go downstairs to play with your toys while Morsa and Momma wake up. You thought about going to the Big Bed but you know that you would just fall asleep and you want to be awake for the game today.

"Seeing the Arsenal girls," You tell Morsa when she asks what's got you so hyper," They're my favourite!"

She groans like she always does when you proclaim your love for Arsenal.

Momma laughs before going serious. "I know the Arsenal girls are your friends, princesse," She says," But this is very serious, okay? You can't tell them anything about how we're going to be playing, okay?"

Your brow furrows. "Why?"

"Well, because then the match won't be any fun for anyone and we all play football because it's fun, don't we?"

You think about that for a moment. It makes sense. You love playing football. You can't imagine what it would be like for it not to be fun anymore. "Okay, I won't tell."

"You're a good secret keeper," Momma says," I have no doubts you'll do very well."

You puff out your chest in pride as the car comes to a stop and you all get out.

You don't really understand why you all have to check the pitch because it's the same every time but Momma and Morsa make you.

"Daan!" You cry out, immediately detaching yourself from Morsa to run over. You stumble a little bit before crashing into her arms.

"Hey there!" Daan laughs as she swings you around. You settle happily on her hip and she pulls a Freddo Frog out of her pocket that you munch happily on.

She walks you both over to a bigger group of Arsenal girls and you high five everyone.

"That's a nice shirt," Daan says, pulling it down from where it's ridden up," What does it mean?"

"Means I'm the Big Boss!" You boast, puffing out your chest," I'm the best Big Boss 'cause Momma and Morsa tells me so."

"Oh, wow," Daan says with the perfect amount of awe at your status," I wish we had a big boss."

You look around quickly and bite at your lip. Momma and Morsa made you promise not to blab about Not-Wolfsburg tactics to Arsenal but they said nothing about helping them.

"I can be your Big Boss!" You say," But you have to ask my Momma and Morsa 'cause I'm only little and they still make lots of my choices."

Daan laughs but brings you over to where Momma and Morsa are milling about on the other side of the pitch.

"Momma," You say because you know she's more likely to give you what you want," Can I be the Big Boss for Arsenal today?"

She seems to catch on to what you're doing because she shrugs. "I don't know. Why don't you ask your Morsa?"

"Morsa, please?"

"Trying to pinch my daughter, van de Donk?" Morsa says," That's low."

Daan shrugs. "I'll give her back?"

"See that you do." Morsa presses a kiss to your forehead before letting Daan take you away.

You make sure to be just as firm as you always are because Coach Emma always tells you that being firm is the best way to get a team to play good so, just because you love Arsenal, doesn't mean you go easy on them.

"Run! Run! Run!" You order," Hurry up! Stop being slow!"

You cross your arms over your chest firmly and stamp your foot on the ground.

"Faster!" You yell," Or my Morsa's gonna catch you and she's not going to let you win!"

[youremyheaven]

Cancer Girls: Baby Voice Edition

I've noticed a pattern with many female celebrities who are known for their "baby voice" and I thought I'd make a post about it. Since Mercury is what affects our voice and style of speech the most, I'll be looking at Mercury placements along with big 3.

Obviously not everyone on this list has a natural baby voice, in fact I'd say the majority of them speak in a very affected pseudo baby voice for which they've become known. I had previously observed how Cancer rashi women do this THE most but here are more examples.

Marilyn Monroe

The OG Ingenue who was known for her breathy baby voice. She has Rohini Sun & Mercury along with Ashlesha Rising

2. Pamela Anderson

She has Ardra Sun, Punarvasu Mercury and Mrigashira Rising

3. Paris Hilton

She has a Pushya Moon and is known for her fake baby voice which her mother claimed she learned from her.

4. Drew Barrymore

She is Punarvasu moon & Mrigashira Rising

Many have noted that a lot of famous Punarvasus have a slightly ditzy way of speaking/demeanour. Almost all Mrigashiras have a very hyper, enthusiastic, kind of frantic and restless way of being and talking. They actually embody "golden retriever energy". I think the combination of these two nakshatras results in Drew's childlike enthusiasm and kind of frantic manic way of speaking and behaving. A lot of people think she's weird 😭but it's just her nature, even Pamela Anderson who shares similar placements has a similar demeanour.

5. Wonyoung

She has Punarvasu Venus conjunct Saturn (both of them are exactly conjunct so idk which one would be her amatyakaraka) and she has received a lot of flak for her "fake baby voice" 😭 Her real voice is naturally deeper and more mature but honestly Wonyoung is such a good example of a Jupiter dominant woman; they are obsessed with presenting themselves a certain way and are very "image conscious", this truly extends to everything from clothes, style, etiquette, speech, voice, absolutely everything. They know exactly what behaviours will elicit what responses.

6. Halsey

She is Punarvasu Moon (atmakaraka) & Mars along with Swati Mercury & Rising

She's known for singing in cursive 😭 but also just has a very sugary high pitched speaking voice. If you observe her even she has a very expressive, animated way of speaking, she's not quite ditzy but she's still almost childlike in her demeanour from time to time.

7. Ariana Grande

She is Ardra Sun & Punarvasu Mercury and she rose to fame for playing a ditzy airhead on Nickelodeon. She in fact spent many years speaking like Cat Valentine off screen as well until she underwent an image revamp in the mid 2010s and adopted a blaccent.

This video shows how when she was younger not only did she have a fake baby voice, she also had a very different slightly ditzy demeanour.

8. Shehnaaz Gill

She is an Indian reality star turned influencer who is known for her baby voice and exaggerated cutesy mannerisms. She is Pushya Moon.

(the interview is mostly in Hindi but you can observe her mannerisms and way of speaking)

9. Melissa Rauch

She has Punarvasu Mercury (amatyakaraka) and played Bernadette on Big Bang Theory where she spoke in a distinctive high pitched voice whereas in real life, her voice is entirely different.

10. Kristen Bell

She has Punarvasu Sun & Mercury. She literally voiced Princess Ana in Frozen. Watch any interview of hers and you will see how expressive she is when she talks, she uses her hands a lot, her face is so animated and its so Punarvasu like🥰

(Tumblr does not allow me to embed more than 10 videos per post so I'll just be linking the rest)

11. Jennifer Garner

She's Mrigashira Moon (atmakaraka), UBP Mercury, Rohini Stellium (Venus, Mars & Saturn)

She's a very good example of a typical Mrigashira. She always speaks like a very sweet, enthusiastic kid; very expressive, very animated.

Here's a link to her interview.

12. Mandy Moore

She's Revati Sun (atmakaraka) , Pushya Moon, Mrigashira Rising

She voiced Rapunzel in Tangled and imo Rapunzel is Tangled is a veryyyy good example of Mrigashira behaviour in many ways but especially with her mannerisms and manic pixie like behaviour which makes sense since she was voiced by a Mrig actress.

Here's a link to Mandy speaking

Here's a link to Rapunzel in Tangled

13. Jenny Slate

She is UBP Sun & Moon and Punarvasu rising

Her sense of humour and how she delivers jokes is a good mix of UBP and Punarvasu

Here's a link to a stand up bit

I've noticed that many Pisces rashi folks (UBP & Revati) are very expressive storytellers and have a very specific style of delivery (Salma Hayek, UBP Moon is a good example and so is Rihanna, Revati Moon).

Jenny has the dryness/deadpanned delivery of UBP mixed with the expressive frantic style of Punarvasu

14. Anna Kendrick

She is Ashlesha Sun (atmakaraka) & Mercury (amatyakaraka)

She has that typical Cancer girl sense of humour and speaking style

Here's a link

15. Mindy Kaling

She is Ardra Sun & Moon, Rohini Rising with Punarvasu Mercury

She rose to fame playing Kelly Kapoor who is a very typical Cancer gal tbh, replete with the slightly ditzy, hyper & manic style and mannerisms and squeaky excited voice.

Here's a link to her being Kelly

Here's a link of her as Mindy Lahiri on The Mindy Project

`16. Leslie Mann

She is UBP Sun, Revati Mercury and Pushya Ketu

Here's a link to an interview but Leslie is such a good example of this ditzy, kind of naive way of speaking. Her mannerisms and the way she delivers is so Pisces girlie of her.

17. Lana del Rey

She is Ardra Sun, Ashlesha Moon & Punarvasu Mercury

Lana is a good example of an introvert Cancer gal. People often think they're kind of weird and kookie and they have a chaotic kind of manic pixie way of speaking and behaving that it throws people off.

Here's a link, her speaking voice sounds very young and soft.

18.Rose Byrne

Pushya Sun & Moon, Ashlesha mercury

She's usually more composed and elegant but when she's more comfortable you see that Cancer girl charm come out. One thing all these women have in common is how they like to act out their stories and be very expressive with their face and body; their sense of humour is very silly and slapstick.

Here's a link

19. Emma Bunton aka Baby Spice

she is Pushya Sun, Mercury and Venus

(isnt it sweet that someone whose alter ego is literally called Baby Spice is a Cancer stellium 🥺)

Here's a link but Baby Spice is also a good example of a less manic but still very cutesy Cancer girl

Many Cancer girls have a tendency to "act cutesy" or "babyish" but also more often than not they are just very in touch with their inner child and kind of goofy and silly.

20. Mary Kate & Ashley Olsen

They're Mrigashira Sun, Punarvasu Mercury & Ashlesha Rising

If you've watched Full House or any of their movies, you can see the ditzy girly girl behaviour of Punarvasu come out but irl they're more introverted and a little awkward, sort of like Lana and seem funny in a shy way.

Claire Nakti had observed in her Swati video about how Swatis and Punarvasus share certain similarities, I've seen this extend to their behaviour and mannerisms as well. Jennifer Tilly, Mila Kunis (both Swati Moon) and Emma Stone (Swati Sun) all have a very similar energetic girly, sweet and humble but kind of kooky and silly style of speaking and story telling.

[wjhik]

Our Son (Jude Bellingham)

A/N: another short one Y/N's POV:

This pregnancy has been really hard on me. It's a saying in my family that the girls take your beauty while the boys take your energy. Now, that is quite stereotypical. But I do find it to be the case. My first pregnancy with my daughter, I gained a bunch of weight. My second pregnancy, now, the energy is sucked out of me.

Jude hasn't been able to be around as much this pregnancy. It's been hard doing this alone. Well, I'm not alone, but it feels like that sometimes. Our daughter has been helping me a lot, even though she is little. Whenever I feel nauseous, she brings me a puke bag. Or, when I'm hungry, she'll bring me my snacks. She really is a blessing, but at the same time she still a kid. She needs to be looked after as well.

She's been very hyper all day and so has the baby. He's been kicking at me all day. My back is in pain and my feet are swollen. Riley has been trying to help me as much as she can, but it's not really helping. Sometimes her help does more harm than good. I appreciate her nonetheless.

Riley and I are sitting on the couch. It's been the first time all day that we've been able to relax. She has some very high-pitched irritating show on, and I'm ordering some things off Amazon. We've been out running errands all day. It's good to be home. As I'm scrolling through Amazon, I see a text. "Hey, baby. Leaving the training grounds now. See you soon. I love you" I quickly reply. "See you, baby. I love you too" I cannot wait for Jude to be home.

I hear the sound of keys rattling, followed by the door opening. Riley runs to the front door where her father stands. She lets out an excited squeal and runs into his arms. Jude picks her up and peppers her face with kisses. I would go up to him as well, but I don't think I can stand up on my own. It's hard being eight months pregnant. Jude walks up to me and leans down to kiss me. "Hey, baby. How was your day?" He asks me. "It was all right. Long, but all right. I returned that faulty stroller we got and a bunch of other errands as well." I expect him to be happy, but when I look at his face, he's upset. "Baby. I told you I would do all that. You shouldn't have been walking that much."He tells me as he sits down next to me. " I know, but it needed to get done. You've been so busy lately, so I thought I should do it. The babies coming way too soon to still be picking out strollers." I explain to him, a slight tinge of irritation in my voice. I don't mean to be irritated, but I can't help it. I have a baby growing inside me.

"Daddy, can you read me a bedtime story?" Riley ask her father as he tucks her in. "Sure, baby." Neither Jude nor Riley realize that I am watching them. Riley looks so snuggly in bed. Jude sitting on a rocking chair next to her. He picks up a book from the shelf and starts reading. "Once upon a time, there was a big bear. This bear was known amongst his friends to be a hungry hungry bear."

"The end." Jude looks down to see his daughter fast asleep. He gets up from his place on his rocking chair and puts the book away. He stands up and walks towards her bed, where he leans above her and kisses her forehead. "I love you, my princess."

I quickly scurry into our bedroom before he can find me watching him. I get into bed and turn on the TV in our room. Jude goes into our shared bathroom and does his nightly routine. He comes out of the bathroom and gets into bed with me. He rests on his side, propped up by his elbow. "I know you had a long day, love. Why don't you get some rest?" He asks me, running his hand through my hair. I simply not at him and he picks up the remote from my side of the bed and turn off the TV. He turns off his side lamp and the room is now in complete darkness. He allows me to snuggle into him as much as I can, which is not much due to the size of my stomach.

I'm about to fall asleep. This is so comforting. Jude has his hand on my stomach and he's rubbing it. He spends at least 30 minutes a day talking to my stomach at night. He tells his son how excited he is to meet him. How perfect he's sure he'll be, and how we have the perfect name for him, and how he hopes he'll like it. I couldn't ask for a better person to have my children with.

Wattpad: funkyfishfeet

DM for requests

[juneknight]

Audible || 2

Part One |

About this: most of the warnings are for the naughty fiction Steven is reading: boot riding, sexual servitude, spanking, very heavy dub-con themes. But it's fiction within fiction <3 One part left...

*

Shifting to make himself comfortable, he glances to you once more for your assent before cracking open the book and searching for his place.

“The Prince was a handsome man, more reminiscent of his mother than his father. His hair and eyes were dark, like pools of ink, his skin golden from the sun that shined in this kingdom all-year-round. He was clearly fit beneath the trim finery that he wore, body honed into a useful weapon that had seen him survive two separate wars. His eyes raked over my body, and it took every bit of self-control not to cover my nakedness the way I had been instructed not to. I knew he must be seeing every part of me: my breasts, my legs, the soft patch of curls at the apex of my thighs. He must have seen the tears on my lashes, the way my nipples had hardened in the cool air. 

‘Turn for me,’ he demanded lowly. ‘A slow circle. Put your hands up behind your neck, I wish to see you.’”

When Steven speaks the words of the Prince, his voice lowers just a half pitch. It makes your breath catch, far too similar to the rough way his voice sometimes sounds when the two of you are making love. You cast your eyes to him, looking for any sign that he knows what he is doing to you, but his eyes are solidly on the book, flickering across the words, oblivious to the heat that is growing between your legs. 

“Oh, it was shameful! Lifting my arms above my head only served to press my breasts forward fetchingly, and turning made me feel like a sow being inspected to see if she is fit for the butcher’s block. By the time I had made it in a full circle, my face felt aflame with shame, and I could not help the tears that slid down my cheeks. He grinned softly at the sight of them, as if it pleased him to see my distress.

‘Bring me a chalice of wine.’ 

I glanced around the room, searching for the servant—except there was no one. He intended me to bring him his wine! Never in my life had I been ordered to do such a thing, the work of servants and the lowborn. I could not even remember the last time I had poured my own cup, much less someone else’s! Except I was a Princess no more. If I intended to keep my identity a secret, I could not turn my nose up at such things. 

But before I could turn to seek out the pitcher of wine on the table, the Prince had reached out and gripped my wrist in his hand. With a strength that had me crying out, he wrenched me to him and draped me across his lap so that my buttocks were facing the ceiling, the blood rushing to my head as my braid dangled towards the ground. He delivered a series of open-palmed spanks: to my arse, to the creases where it met my thighs, and to my thighs themselves. When I struggled, beginning to sob, he only spanked me harder, commanding me not to move. 

At last, he had had his fill of such torment, and he pulled me up to stand before him. Though I was taller than him while he was seated, I felt so small, trembling in front of him, face wet and nose stuffed from tears. 

‘Come now,’ he said. ‘Your tears only make me want to spank you more. You must never hesitate when given an order. You should have no thoughts in your mind, except obeying me. Do you understand?” 

"What a jerk," you mutter. "I didn't expect he would be so cruel."

"I warned you it was shocking," Steven says with a laugh. He shows you the cover, pointing to words which aren't there. "Dead Dove, darling. Shall I go on?"

After you nod, he does, and you drift a little once again listening to him speak, swallowing hard at the words dripping from Steven’s mouth. Those firm, dominating words coming in the cadence of Steven’s voice made you fight against an instinctive need to squirm and shift. You become hyper aware of his presence: the way his chest rises and falls as he breathes, the landscape of his hands as he deftly turns the pages, calloused fingertips rasping softly across each page. The dark curls that spill over onto his forehead and the shells of his ears. 

“...pressed me down onto my knees. In front of me was the bulge of his cock beneath his trousers. Before today, I had never seen a cock except as illustrations in books on anatomy, and while there had been many naked men also being prepared alongside me in the pleasure servant’s hall, I had been too shy to look at them. All of the sudden, between my thighs, I felt the nudge of his foot. It startled me, it’s presence so close to my aching core only served to remind me of how sharp my need was. When he lifted his foot, bringing the surface of his polished boot against the curls of my sex, more tears slipped from my eyes. I wanted to writhe against it, to rub my cunt along it until I reached my peak, like I was no more than an animal at his feet. 

‘You will undress me. The belts and buckles can be quite intricate. I will be patient with you, but you will devote yourself to learning how to undo them and how to be graceful as you do. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, my Prince.’ 

‘Go on then.’ 

But as soon as my fingers reached up to brush the buttons just beneath his throat, he lifted his foot again, nudging my cunt with it. I jolted at the zap of pleasure, my face feeling on fire with shame and arousal. Slowly, but with purpose, he began to rock the surface of his boot against me, dragging it along the lips of my cunt, parting them with its blunt force…” 

“Jesus,” you mutter, laughing. Your voice sounds far too breathy to pass as unaffected. 

Steven immediately looks to you, his face riddled with concern. Your face feels as hot as the Princess’s likely did, beneath his soft, worrying gaze. “Alright, love? Perhaps we should—” 

“I’m alright,” you assure him. “Please go on—I have to see what happens next.” 

Steven looks unsure but turns his gaze back to the book. He mutters: where was I—ah—

“...parting them with its blunt force. I knew that if he drew his foot away now, my own wetness would be visible on its surface, slicker than any polish he could have used. My hands fumbled on the buttons, and he gave a cool, low warning: 

‘If you do not undress me within the next three minutes—or if you come without my permission—I will tie you soundly to the posts of the bed and let you hang there all night for my viewing, until I fall asleep. Do you understand?’

I could not help but shake, fresh tears wetting my cheeks. What would be worse, to find my release against his boot like a baseless whore, to be strung up like a tapestry at the end of his bed, looking down on his handsome sleeping figure for the rest of the night, or not receiving any pleasure at all? For a moment, I thought to disobey him, to accept the risks and grind myself against his boot until I found my pleasure. But a strange little part of me wanted badly to obey him, to see his rare smile, to see if there was any way I could coax a word of praise or fondness from his full lips. 

Determined, I set about undoing the buttons…” 

You let out a slow, measured breath, searching for your own inner strength just the way the Princess had—and then it all crumbles when you glance downward and see that beneath his boxers, Steven is hard. There is no denying the way his cock strains the fabric. The sight of his arousal has you groaning in the back of your throat. You shift to flop down flat on the bed by his seated figure instead of leaning against him. His words stutter at your movement, glancing away from the page to watch and ensure that you’re alright, but then it is his turn to suck in a shocked breath. 

All from the sight of you slipping your hand beneath your panties. You knew you were wet, but it is a little obscene just how wet you are, your fingers sliding through the folds of your sex, slipping frictionlessly over your swollen clit. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Steven says. For a moment, you thought he had continued the book. His voice had dropped low and sultry the way it had when he was speaking the Prince’s lines, but a glance up at him shows that his eyes are nowhere near the pages of smut. They are focused on where your fingers move, finer motions disguised beneath the soft cotton fabric. 

“Keep reading?” you ask him breathlessly. 

“Keep—at a time like this?” 

You laugh. Sitting up briefly, you pull your shirt over your head, revealing your breasts to him before collapsing back down against the soft comforter. There is still a burning exhaustion that tugs at your lids, but now you burn in other places. When you reach down to slip your fingers past the last bit of fabric that shields you from his gaze, he lets the book fall flat against his chest.

You halt your fingers, only the tips disappeared beneath the waistband. 

“Steven—read.” 

Steven sighs. He wets his lips and—with great reluctance—picks up the book. Pausing, he reaches back to the headboard again, his hand searching blindly. When he finds his reading glasses, he slips them into place. God, those glasses. The way his mouth curls tells you that he knows exactly what he’s doing to you by putting them on. 

“Where—Determined, I set about undoing the buttons. My fingers felt clumsy and as if they were not my own. I was a lady, I was certainly used to all manners of buttons and facets on my gowns, but by the way I fumbled to reveal each inch of his tan chest, you would have thought it was my first time encountering them. I tried to keep my mind in the present, my eyes set firmly upon my task, but the Prince began softly rocking his boot against me once more, and a pitiful, embarrassing sound escaped my parted lips. 

He pushed my fingers away and fastened up two of my hard-earned buttons. 

‘Each sound you make sets you back,’ he said, his eyes both cruel and soft at once as he took in the sight of my struggle against my own pleasure. ‘You may groan with your mouth closed, but if you part your lips, I will gag you soundly. Nod if you understand.’

I nodded immediately. 

‘Two minutes,’ he reminded me. I set myself to my task once more, this time with a bit more dexterity. Button after button fell away beneath my hands, even as the Prince’s soft leather boot stroked at my aching cunt, even when he drew it back to let the gently-curved tip of it drag over my swollen clit. I was trembling everywhere except for my hands now, tugging his shirt free from his trousers before turning to the little fastens at his cuffs.

With dread, I felt my end approaching. Never before had I been so fearful of my own pleasure! And I do mean fearful of it, and not just of the Prince’s consequences. What did it mean if I let myself find release like this, making a spectacle of myself? What would my family think, or any of the lords and ladies of my own kingdom? Even the commoners would find me shameful! But my body did not seem to mind at all the circumstances of my pleasure. 

‘Half a minute,’ he laughed. My fingers had gone still for a moment, lost in pleasure and shame all at once. Thirty seconds, and he was still more than half dressed! I knew then what my fate was to be; tied to the bedposts until dawn, tormented by the handsome Prince. What difference did it make, then, if I let myself find release, except that perhaps I might be a fraction less uncomfortable in my bondage. 

So I took up the task again, but half-heartedly, instead beginning to work my hips against the pressure of his boot, trying to keep my motions subtle. It seemed to be working, for the Prince did not stop me, and I am sure that he would have if he suspected I was pleasuring myself. With more than ten seconds to spare, I felt my release build within me. 

And just as it broke over me, just as my cunt gave the first exquisite clench, the Prince withdrew his boot and pushed me off of my knees onto my bottom and further, my elbows colliding with the cold stone floor. I cried out, though the little fall had not hurt me. Fast as a snake, he kneeled down between my thighs and spread them, spread them so far apart that the muscles ached, that I felt the cool air of the room on my burning cunt. 

‘I see you have no manners,’ the Prince said wryly as I writhed and wept, my cunt clenching and unclenching, feeling so very empty. The brief crest of pleasure was ruined, I felt only an unsatisfying burn in my sex, my clit still hard as one of the rubies that encrusted the broach that had held the Prince’s jacket together at his throat, my juices dripping from my entrance and smeared along my trembling thighs.” 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you breathe, fingers working yourself over. Already you feel your own end approaching, and there is no cruel Prince to stop you from letting it crest, your breath stuttering and then stopping altogether as your body tenses, holds the tension for an immeasurable moment. You cry out, strumming with soft, rapid strokes over your clit, making sure to wring every bit of pleasure from your peak. By the time your body begins to soften, breaths slowing, you realize that long ago Steven had stopped reading. 

Glancing to him, you see the book laying abandoned on his trim chest. One of his hands is down massaging the bulge in his boxers, his touch revealing the shape of his hard length beneath the fabric. He looks desperate, voice rough like the Prince’s when he says: “You drive me mad. You know that?” 

You feel butterflies in your belly. Withdrawing your hand from your panties, you roll onto your knees and offer him the wet, pruning fingers. His mouth opens, sweet and pliant as you rest them on his tongue, his eyes going half-lidded as he sucks them clean of your slick. 

“You would make a perfect pleasure servant,” you tease him. He huffs a laugh around your fingers. “How about a reward, hm? A reward for such a good boy.” 

He groans now, looking as cross as he does aroused. When you pull your digits free, he says: “No teasing, love. My cock is so bloody hard, it hurts.” 

“Can I suck it?” 

“Can you—what, like I’d ever say no?”

[spotlightlowlife]

Vaggie, a hazbin already?

has-been

noun

ˈhaz-ˌbin  🗣

Synonyms of has-been

: one that has passed the peak of effectiveness or popularity

♡♡♡ Merriam Webster's dictionary

Four episodes in and Helluva was plenty engaging and entertaining with time spent on our leading characters and their dynamics with little deviation from the story we were sold.

Four episodes in Hazbin is like a busy anthology and our leading character Charlie is nearly a non entity.

Vaggie is Charlie's keeper, bestie, love interest, heavy and spokesperson all rolled into one, but since Charlie is progressing slowly, has way too many side plots and frequently ventures off alone in order to introduce us to another member of this abundant cast who will shadow her with their brighter personality and multiple storylines, poor Vaggie is left on the bench.

Being the loyal sidekick who is there to fight for their leader/partner is a common entire personality, this seems to rest on that a lot, she says what needs to be said, she's tough in this rough environment, however we meet bolder, tougher, powerfull, we meet people with goals, achievements and difficulties.

So far Vaggie is getting the Millie treatment, Millie being the scrappy spouse who's interests, background and goals don't matter, of a more significant but very meek leading character who she stands beside and will step up for occasionally, but really, Vaggie may have it worse as she technically has more to lose being a sinner and frankly, she's in a position of privilege at the same time, being that she has such a close relationship with a princess/chosen one/antichrist who is set to change the world but needs to find her voice, Vaggie literally acted as her voice right off the bat! Then nothing!

If only she was more driven.

If only she was more manipulative.

What are her view points? What does she want? Why does she agree with Charlie? Where does she believe Charlie can improve? What was she doing prior to Charlie pitching her rehabilitation idea? Does she care about the sinners and their salvation too?

Could her closeness to Charlie have been a means of protecting herself from the purges? Who knows, hopefully, as it would give her some substance.

Why is she there and what does she do? Closest to the leading character but we learn a bit about the background of Husk and Angeldust first, who have trades and a very questionable dynamic, whilst Vox gets to be a rival to the very powerful Alastor whilst rubbing shoulders with the successful Valentino, who links right back to Angel, but Charlie's second in command, not such luck, she's Charlie's right, or left hand.

Since the show is about rehabilitating sinners and Vaggie is good by default as far as we're concerned, shouldn't she be a prime case for ascension? Is she happy where she is? Could this be a codepdancy on both Vaggie and Charlie's part?

It has been a while since the Hazbin pilot, plenty of time to fine tune the story and decide the way forward, to retcon or claim the pilot isn't canon at all, however, it seems we really do need these pilot episodes to get to know the characters.

Vaggie seemed more of a someone to me in the breif time she had, but we may have to ignore all that.

The pilots of both shows have been readily available online for a long while, plenty of time for viewers to form a ready fanbase who have fallen in love with characters, fans who have enjoyed fanart and fanfiction as they wait for the story to finally play out. A neglected character's charm relies in the idea if them since they're not getting time.

Helluva had a silly and hyper pilot that outlined all we needed to know, Hazbin's pilot however set a rather high standard with us following someone of power who has grand dreams in motion, a standard that's not getting met as our mains are ignored.

One last thing, the pilot is the foundation of this shows (high) reviews. IMDB is one of the leading review pages on the net and it doesn't separate the pilot from the main series.

[prilaja-artblog]

Just an occupational hazard.

[m3gahet]

Now with the various Bobs running around, how about thoughts on Robin and self-expression/identity?

Love me some Bob

So here's the thing. Avalon AU and Sir Bob was not originally supposed to be gender confirming to Robin. The original pitch was her thinking she had to be a man to be a knight and wanting to distance herself from her princess identity but when people found out she'd go back to just being Robin.

However we have happy accidents that allow me to explore Robin's relationship with gender expression.

Robin was forced into a very hyper femme persona by her parents since she was small. She's had to sacrifice genuine interests and compromise for what her parents deemed more feminine alternatives.

So when she wanted to learn karate she got to learn dance and later gymnastics.

Robin didn't really get to explore herself as a kid either to even really consider comfort with her gender. When she was younger she tried to be what her parents wanted, when she broke away and went off to college she tried to become someone who'd be respected and taken seriously.

She doesn't really get to explore that side of herself until she's working with Dethklok because she's finally able to start addressing her baggage.

Robin has always aligned her interests as masculine, she carries herself in a way she'd describe as masculine, taking influence from men in the industry (Including her dad without really realizing it)

The Avalon AU kind of showed me how people perceiving her as Sir Bob would give her alot of euphoria and at this point it's bleeding into everything cause I want her to be happy.

And a smidgen of projection as a someone who has been shoved into hyper femininity and it gave me issues.

(Side note. I don't want this to sound like I'm bashing femininity. Express yourself how you want as long as you chose it)

So I look forward to exploring and sharing more of Bobbi's gender expression journey and making her growing attractiveness every ones' problem <3

[currymaker]

the funniest thing eris has told me multiple times is "i think you are the only person actively thinking about hyper princess pitch in 202X"

[jexania]

Who’s your profile picture

That is the Goddess of Explosions from various Ludosity titles such as Slap City (platform fighter where she is my main) and Hyper Princess Pitch (where the titular princess is her daughter, hence the hoodie)