#just felt natural and right <3

[inkykeiji]

"marq took this photo" ILL SOB PLEASE CLARI WAH

ehehehehehe it’s the truth!!! it was just my immediate thought ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

[poppytuft]

the bear s3 spoilers

below the cut! thinking about claire and stuff we saw this season re: carmy/syd/the restaurant/donna, just finished the season so itll be a mess and also im comin in way too hot on this so my bad

sometimes...... sometimes i believe you guys are all watching different tv. im not sure how this season didnt feel like a direct through line from s2?? and im not sure WHY everyone is SO MAD about claire LITERALLY "haunting" this season. girl. come on. we need to have a sit down talk about how the berzatto generational trauma is the real meat of this show (this will make sense, just trust me). thats the MAIN EMOTIONAL POINT. syd's relationship with her dad, marcus and his mom, richie and evie, even tina and louie are all examples of parental relationships that are tender, sweet, supportive, etc. these are INTENTIONAL!! by creating these relationships we see PLAINLY how fucked donna is and how much she fucked up all of these kids. thats why "ice chips" was such a FANTASTIC episode. there was SO MUCH unpacked, so much revealed, so much worked through with sugar and her but at the end of the day she's still learning how to unlearn all of this horrific narcissistic bullshit. SHES STILL UNLEARNING THOUGH. thats where fucking DONNA of all people sits right now——somehow, she's learning how to heal. EVERYONE IS LEARNING. that's also what is so important about that episode.

now lets look at carmy. in "ice chips" we are LITERALLY told about how each berzatto is born: mikey fighting against the idea of being alive at all, nat into a quiet, soothing room, and CARMY is fucking born into EVERYONE SCREAMING and ARGUING and FIGHTING. we are BLATANTLY told that all carmy has ever known is HELL and all he's ever known how to communicate is through exploding. this is so violently against what we also know about his personality from childhood in "fishes" (anxious growing up, arts-oriented, had a hard time making friends). now, he works a violently stressful job, processing the trauma from both his mother (and chef fields [joel mchale], realistically) through the high-stress environment.

NOW. ENTER CLAIRE.

HOW is she not fascinating to you all. we don't see her whole story (because the bear, duh) but we are given just enough pieces here to put together that her story runs parallel to carmy's. how are you not getting this. walk with me.

claire. glasses, nerdy, quiet, sweet, girl next door. family friend! cute, but considered mid for a long time by everyone at school, but suddenly the berzatto men all badger carm, "oh she got a glow up, oh shes looking for you, she wants to see you," etc etc etc. what happened in between?

she finds herself. she finds the stressful thing she LOVES, which is the hospital. her job is objectively more stressful than carmy's (illustrated by that scene earlier in the season but i forgot the episode, where claire talks about the girl who got her shit wrecked by the glass table), and while we don't have an exact understanding of what her home life was like, we understand that her and carmy both have a level of internal anxiety that thrives on the stress of their careers. HOWEVER, claire does it because she loves it. carmy just doesn't know how to stop.

this is what makes claire feel like "peace" to carmy——because her high-stress job is a choice, an active choice she is making because it fulfills her. it's not to prove her dead brother wrong, or to honor his own legacy, or to prove that dickbag boss wrong, or to leave a mark on the world, or to make her own life worthwhile, or to prove that she doesn't need anyone else. she genuinely enjoys helping people even when the days are stressful, or scary. he's obsessed with this. he wants to know how she does this. every day she leaves that stress at home——and he wants to learn how to do that too.

claire is VITAL to this season and to understanding carmy's stress——and how far back he is in his healing process. it should only become more and more apparent, as we see characters like tina (the beef/the bear became vital to her success/development as a chef AND person, both for the people AND her love of food), marcus (not hiding his grief, but using it to help rationalize how much his mother loved him and wanted to be surrounded by people that love him), and richie (finding a purpose through service/expo and understanding he can start over again) push through their own traumas and struggles to become better people. if donna can be not only present at sugar's bedside during labor, but WELCOMED at this point in the show, it makes carmy's inability to heal all the more present. claire is an important part of this puzzle: she helps us see a window into a world where carmy is balanced emotionally, but unbalanced professionally, because he has no idea how to make the two coexist.

however, the idea that he can be balanced emotionally at all is so fucking enticing——with the help of someone who experiences stress in the same way as him (and who is familiar with his familial trauma), he has the opportunity to grow up and move on from his family trauma and wounds perpetuated by the industry he works in.

on the flip side of this....... his inability to process any of this is starting to impact syd. and frankly, that's some bullshit. his lack of communication, inability to community build/trust ANYONE, and his violent stubbornness is pushing her into the same space that he was in under chef fields, in a much slower, more subtle manner, and for slightly different reasons. her panic attack at the end of the season could read in two directions to me: her stress over the responsibility of changing so many people's lives has boiled over once she remembered that the beef once was truly great (hey five star review on the fridge!), OR, she realizes how much she isn't in it for the food. fuck a Michelin star: she wants to cook with her family. chef terry says at the end of "forever", in the garage with carmy, that she's so grateful she got to do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, where she wanted, with the people she wanted to do it with. sydney is so close to having those things at the bear——but carmy's dysfunction is keeping it just out of arms reach. the two of them are now on opposite sides of the approach from last season: syd dying for a star, and carmy dying to cook for the woman he loved. now, carmy is hungy for recognition again, desperate to prove something, and sydney is remembering (thanks to the conversation with other chefs during the ever funeral service) why she loved cooking in the first place. so this leaves us to wonder: should she stick it out? for the people? or make something of herself? is she carmy, or is she terry? i guess we will just have to see.

all this to say: every character is connected. the bear is a show about family, found and blood, and the choices we make for, with, and because of the people we love, for better or for worse. food is only the center of it, because it's the center of all of our lives. you can't hate claire without understanding where she sits in the web of the berzatto family. and really, you can't hate her if you understand what her presence means for carmy, for syd, and the restaurant as a whole.

[spaciebabie]

does any other demiromantic (or arosepc doesnt rlly matter) feel like. extremely awful when they experience romantic attraction or is that just me.

[cuteniaarts]

@katkastrofa, circa 40-ish hours ago: Hey, what if our newest bunch of OCs adopted a baby from one of the other brothel girls who knew she couldn’t afford to raise one? That would make for some fun shenanigans :D

Me, with a notoriously non existent sleep schedule, instinct of self preservation or concern for my poor wrist: Alright, bet. Watch how fast I can make you fall in love with this hypothetical baby >:)

Daneli as a gentle and loving caretaker-turned-adoptive-mother is something that can be So Personal, actually, and originally I was going to leave it at this quick sketch, but then I got carried away thinking about what this child will grow up to be like raised by this little gang of misfits, so…

Here she is!! A little older and so, so beautiful, I need more of her in my life immediately, she’s way too precious

And, because I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t also add a sapphic element to this absolute cinnamon roll, a small crack ship that I’m only half serious about for when she’s a little older still:

All in all, we may be getting impossibly far from canon, but I for one already cannot get enough of sweet darling Kumisai <3

(I fully drew three pieces from scratch in 9 hours I cannot feel my brain or my hands anymore send help)

[britneyshakespeare]

don carlos by friedrich schiller is the most wild thing i've read all year and i'm only in act 2

[daydreamdoodles]

So far kinda a big fan of the semi finals challenge. The writing is pretty decent, no one's character feels murked. The drama feels naturally built

The discussion between pantsuits and dresses felt very queer coded

[0reblogufufu0]

Happy Birthday part. 2 @snoobins

Whilst I

Wriggle through the lines of

Appreciated life

In my

Self the

Bed I wake in

The home I stay in I'll

Attempt to pay my due diligence in

Thanks to God

For at least I'd woken up

To you

[my-current-obsession]

Pros of dating Margaret in RF4 - she's very cute and sweet and all around lovely. She's also the only girl to get a skill exclusive to romancing her, and it is BUSTED. Her healing rainbow wave is the best support move in the game, IMO.

Cons of dating Margaret in RF4 - Unless you get obscenely lucky or choose to save scum a lot, you will NEVER be able to marry her.

[clumsycapitolunicorn]

.

[cleargreyskies]

Nothing like the end of a year to really drive home your feelings of loneliness.

(some venting in the tags, it's that time of the year again. also to the two people from offline life potentially reading this: this is obviously not about you and I care about you deeply)

[amatres]

I know you have to choose the option but the farewell conversation that sticks most in my head in the Gallows is with Carver where Hawke can say something along the lines of 'This is how we're supposed to be, side by side' and he tells them they know it can't be like that forever.

Like, my Hawke at least spent so much of her life building her identity in service of her family. Hawke most resembles their father no matter what, and the family is shaped around them narratively (if you're a mage or not deciding which sibling you lose first and how that class effects how those siblings feel about themselves and their place in the family) and they shape themselves around their family in turn, exist for them, takes up the role of leader after Malcolm has passed. The answers of where Hawke considers home when they're asked never felt right, because they lived on the run for so many of their formative years, the true answer feels like to me to be their home is their family, the place never mattered beyond being allowed to rest and not look over their shoulder every day.

What happens to that identity when everyone you built it around is gone? Where would they consider home when it's all said and done? The Amell estate was something they got for their mother, one of the answers they can give to Varric in Act 2 on what they plan to do now is watch over their mother, Carver tells Hawke to look after her when the expedition separates them. Then their mother is gone too.

There's no final statement for this since it's just me rambling, but it's hm, sad to think about. Who is Hawke if they aren't living for the sake of another, when all those they lived for are gone and they never felt at home anywhere but in the people they surrounded themselves with?

[muzzlemouths]

🤲

🤲what do YOU get out of writing?

I really struggled with answering this one because I'm not sure how to put it into words. I've always been writing - my whole life, even during those years I was convinced I should quit - all I thought about was writing.

From the earliest days it brought me comfort when no one and nothing else could, its always been a safe way to vent and express myself, it helps me work through emotions when I don't understand them any other way, and it brings me inarticulable joy to speak fluently on pen when my mouth fails me.

I've been eat sleep and breathing this media for as long as I could hold a pencil and at this point it's just a part of who I am, I can't imagine myself without it. I know that's super dramatic, but I can't express it any other way. It's really, truly important to me.

[physalian]

How to make your writing sound less stiff

Just a few suggestions. You shouldn’t have to compromise your writing style and voice with any of these, and some situations and scenes might demand some stiff or jerky writing to better convey emotion and immersion. I am not the first to come up with these, just circulating them again.

1. Vary sentence structure.

This is an example paragraph. You might see this generated from AI. I can’t help but read this in a robotic voice. It’s very flat and undynamic. No matter what the words are, it will be boring. It’s boring because you don’t think in stiff sentences. Comedians don’t tell jokes in stiff sentences. We don’t tell campfire stories in stiff sentences. These often lack flow between points, too.

So funnily enough, I had to sit through 87k words of a “romance” written just like this. It was stiff, janky, and very unpoetic. Which is fine, the author didn’t tell me it was erotica. It just felt like an old lady narrator, like Old Rose from Titanic telling the audience decades after the fact instead of living it right in the moment. It was in first person pov, too, which just made it worse. To be able to write something so explicit and yet so un-titillating was a talent. Like, beginner fanfic smut writers at least do it with enthusiasm.

2. Vary dialogue tag placement

You got three options, pre-, mid-, and post-tags.

Leader said, “this is a pre-dialogue tag.”

“This,” Lancer said, “is a mid-dialogue tag.”

“This is a post-dialogue tag,” Heart said.

Pre and Post have about the same effect but mid-tags do a lot of heavy lifting.

They help break up long paragraphs of dialogue that are jank to look at

They give you pauses for ~dramatic effect~

They prompt you to provide some other action, introspection, or scene descriptor with the tag. *don't forget that if you're continuing the sentence as if the tag wasn't there, not to capitalize the first word after the tag. Capitalize if the tag breaks up two complete sentences, not if it interrupts a single sentence.

It also looks better along the lefthand margin when you don’t start every paragraph with either the same character name, the same pronouns, or the same “ as it reads more natural and organic.

3. When the scene demands, get dynamic

General rule of thumb is that action scenes demand quick exchanges, short paragraphs, and very lean descriptors. Action scenes are where you put your juicy verbs to use and cut as many adverbs as you can. But regardless of if you’re in first person, second person, or third person limited, you can let the mood of the narrator bleed out into their narration.

Like, in horror, you can use a lot of onomatopoeia.

Drip Drip Drip

Or let the narration become jerky and unfocused and less strict in punctuation and maybe even a couple run-on sentences as your character struggles to think or catch their breath and is getting very overwhelmed.

You can toss out some grammar rules, too and get more poetic.

Warm breath tickles the back of her neck. It rattles, a quiet, soggy, rasp. She shivers. If she doesn’t look, it’s not there. If she doesn’t look, it’s not there. Sweat beads at her temple. Her heart thunders in her chest. Ba-bump-ba-bump-ba-bump-ba- It moves on, leaving a void of cold behind. She uncurls her fists, fingers achy and palms stinging from her nails. It’s gone.

4. Remember to balance dialogue, monologue, introspection, action, and descriptors.

The amount of times I have been faced with giant blocks of dialogue with zero tags, zero emotions, just speech on a page like they’re notecards to be read on a stage is higher than I expected. Don’t forget that though you may know exactly how your dialogue sounds in your head, your readers don’t. They need dialogue tags to pick up on things like tone, specifically for sarcasm and sincerity, whether a character is joking or hurt or happy.

If you’ve written a block of text (usually exposition or backstory stuff) that’s longer than 50 words, figure out a way to trim it. No matter what, break it up into multiple sections and fill in those breaks with important narrative that reflects the narrator’s feelings on what they’re saying and whoever they’re speaking to’s reaction to the words being said. Otherwise it’s meaningless.

—

Hope this helps anyone struggling! Now get writing.

[nkogneatho]

— 𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐖, 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐊 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐍

—characters: gojo, toji, geto, sukuna, nanami, choso

—cw: lactation ofc, fem!reader, nicknames, aphrodisiac (the milk), intoxication, masturbation, semi-public, dry humping.

—a/n: i have officially surprised myself with how insane i can really be. ya gurl so thirsty she created her own universe where men gib milkies 🧍🏽‍♀️

introduction to the universe:

Evolution took place a little differently in this universe. A mutation caused hormonal presence that triggers monthly lactation in men for 3 to 5 days, and it usually starts in their early 20s. It is studied that it does not serve any purpose of feeding like female lactation, but might be an indicator to arousal, and even a mating call due to accurate findings of natural aphrodisiacs in the milk produced by the thin gland located in a breast. It also pains a lot and causes swelling of nipples. While scientific advancements have yet to develop a pill that might solve this problem, the most effective natural method to be proven is letting another person suck it.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

It had been quite a long day at work. You knew you were the last to arrive home when you found his boots messed on the floor.

“Toru?” You called out his name, failed to receive a response. “Toru, baby, ' m home.” The wooden door of the shoe cabinet creaked as you closed it after placing the footwear in their place.

The house smelled…sweeter, felt warmer than usual. Making your way to the bedroom, you found clothes scattered on the floor near the entrance. The door was ajar which means your eyes had quick access to what was happening.

“Fuck! Ah! Ah! Mhmm.” You watched in surprise as your boyfriend kept fisting his cock, but wait. Something was different. You moved closer and found his hands squeezing his tits, milk oozing and drenching his naked body. But his heat doesn't arrive until next week. You thought. It was not uncommon for heats to arrive irregularly. It only meant that his hormone level had increased due to sexual frustration. Your eyes scanned his position, his movements. A hand reaching down to rub the wetness forming between your legs. You couldn't take it anymore.

“Need a hand?” You asked, announcing yourself in the room to let the man know he wasn't alone.

“Oh fuck! I thought I locked the door,” he panicked, yet he didn't remove his from his cock, just another arm covering his chest.

“And deprive me of this treat? I don't think so, baby.” You walked closer until you were hovering over him, kissing softly. Heat always has Satoru acting needy and you knew it.

“Touch me, doll. Please.” You smiled at his eagerness.

“I will do more than just touch.” Slapping his wrist away that were blocking the view of his lovely tits, you pushed him until he was laying flat. Your clothed pussy grinding in his naked cock as you leaned and took one of his nipples in your mouth.

“F-fuck.” he stuttered. “Don't. I am early this month. The flow is too much—ngh—you'll get high.” As if that was going to stop you? You started sucking more aggressively. He was right. The flow really was too much because you found yourself gulping a mouthful of his sweet milk, as your other hand reached down jerked his cock.

“Baby…ah! Keep doing that. I am close.” He is so silly to think he can relieve himself on his own when it never works. “Holy fhhuuck! Gonna c—aahhh!” You watched as he arched his back, white spurts covering your hands and other white liquid wetting your jaw. You sat up, removing your top as you already felt dizzy.

“We're not done, Toru. Wan'you to fuck me nasty while I suck your milk.” And he was hard again at your words.

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

You loved spring. It was your favorite season to go out. Not too cold. Not too hot. Just the perfect amount of wind and sun. Apparently, it is also a perfect season for outdoor dates. You and Toji preferred to stay in most of the time but the cherry blossoms were too precious to be enjoyed from your windows or TV screen.

“Toji, you ready?” you asked your husband, packing things in your cute pink purse.

“Uhm, princess? Think we might need to cancel the date.” His muffled voice emerged through the bedroom.

“What?” You yelled as you stomped to the bedroom. “What do you mean we might need to c—oh…" Your legs stopped, body taken aback as you stared at his shirtless body, tone muscles and triceps flexing as he squeezed his tits, squirting the milk out.

“I am over-lactating.”

“What happened to the breast cups?”

“Look at me princess. 'm leaking too much. They ain't gon' hold it. Agh fuck!” He spat angrily as you watched the milk travel down his abs, covering it in sweetness.

“Fuck the date. I have a better plan.” You winked at him.

“Shit. Calm down, ma—ugh. Y'er gonna bruise my tits." You were riding his rock, rocking your body back and forth on his crotch while sucking his swollen dark peachy nipples. Your hands struggled to hold his chest because they were bigger than it, causing your nails to dig into the skin.

“Mmh lvove yvour mwilk shwo mwuch.” Your dirty muffled comments vibrating on his skin.

“Y'er drunk, ma. Ya like to get drunk on daddy's milk, hmm?” He cooed, planting a spank on your ass.

“Lwove it.”

“Hm mhh,” he chuckled. “Nasty fucking girl. Move—ahh! Move faster. Need to cum.” You followed his orders, not looking up once to meet his eyes but busy soaking in the drug and flavor of his milk.

“Ngh—twoji, too much. Wan' a break.” You complained, but he was not going to let you stop. This was your plan after all.

“Nuh uh! Don't pull that now.” He grabbed your ass and started bouncing them up and down. You felt so insides bursting with pleasure, cheeks burning up, eyes rolling back. “Gonna cum, ma. Make sure this pussy drinks all my cum as you stuff your mouth with my milk—gahh! fhuck fhuck! fuuuuck!” He was talking as if you had a choice when one of his hand forced you down on his cock as he painted your hole in his cum, while the other hand pushed your face further against his tits. He watched as milk overflowed from the side of your lips. “Such a good girl f'me. You wan' more?”

𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍

Sukuna tend to get a bit crazier when he was in heat. He fucked you with more strength, came a lot more than usual. It was hard to keep his mood balanced. You tried to suggest him some diet during those days of the month, but he refused to eat greens. A big man like him fancies flesh. Furthermore, why does he need a diet when he has the most proven effective method?

“K-kuna…agh! Too biiig." You cried. Sukuna had you on top of him, his big body splayed on the king-size bed—that surprisingly was almost the same size as him—your thighs trembling, kneecaps digging the mattress as you struggled to keep hi dick inside. Your head was telling you to get off it. Yet, your tight little cunt craved more of him.

“Hmm,” he chuckled. “Your pussy has a habit of biting more than she can swallow.” His teases were humiliating. Your hands rested on his chest, tongue reminiscing the sweet taste of his milk. Even though you were not completely dominant in this relationship—it is hard to be one when you are dating a man like sukuna—there were times when you initiated the things he would usually pester you about. Your lustful eyes gave him a look he hadn't seen before. Soon, he felt your hands tightening around his tits. Now he knew what you were up to.

“Want a taste, my woman?” All you could do was give a light nod because most of your strength was busy rolling your waist on his cock. “Go ahead. Suck my milk out.”

Without a second thought, you found your lips kissing his puffy pink nipples. You could feel the veins throbbing as you were suckling his juice out. Sukuna's milk was sweet with a hint of tanginess. Nevertheless, you loved it.

“Shhit! Calm down woman. I am not going anywhere.” His words were just background noise to you because all you could hear is squelching of your pussy and your slurps on his tiddie.

“Mmghh! Don't tell me you're planning on getting drunk.” His shoulders adjusted themselves to get a better position. “If you are—fuck. Then don't expect me to go easy tonight.” You unlatched your mouth from him for what seemed like after fifteen minutes to finally speak.

“Want you to ruin my pussy, kuna. Mmh,” you jerked your hips forward. “Want you to fill my mouth with milk as you do it.”

“Get off.” His tone shifted from somewhat sweet to serious. You followed his orders anyway. You both exchanged positions so now he was on top of you.

“My dirty human. Better stick to your words, darling. I am not planning on stopping until you're drenched in my cum and my milk”

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

You always knew Suguru's heat cycle. As the days approached closer, he used to become more and more whiny and clingy, arguing with you over petty things. His behavior did a 180° on these days.

Earlier today, you had a discourse over chores. He nagged at how you should keep things in place, or you won't find them when you need it. You understood where he was coming from, but the work had taken quite a toll on you that you barely had energy tonight. He just wouldn't let it go, and you grew more frustrated. You yanked him by his wrist, dragging his giant, muscular body to the shower. And here you were, stroking him off as you nibbled, and suckled on his tits. The continuous pour of warm water stimulating both of you.

“This is what you wanted, right, sugu?” you looked up, chin nuzzling in his cleavage. “Nagging me the whole day. You just wanted your tits sucked.” His brows scrunched together. A large hand approached your face, cupping your cheeks. He had his fingers digging the muscle on your face until they squished together.

“Behave,” his voice stern. “Just 'cause 'm in heat doesn't mean you hold the upper hand, baby.”

“Oh, but I do, Sugu—*spank* Ah! What was that for?”

“For teasing me. I know you love drinking my milk, princess. Get to it 'cause I can't take it nomo.” He pressed your face against one of his boobs, your nose pressured a little above the nipple, forcing the spurts of milk out.

“You gon' let it fall down the drain?” Your immediate action was to cup his tiddy with both of your hands—his chest was too big to use one—massaging all of the juice out. You opened your mouth and let it aim at your tongue.

“Fucking hell! This is why—mmghh easy, princess. 'Tis all sore.”

“I gotchu, sugu.” You eased out the movement of your hands, gently kneading them.

“Fhuuck, yes. Just like that.” Other hand travelled back down, grabbing his throbbing boner, squeezing the base as you squeezed his nipples. Geto planted a kiss on top of your head. “Holy shit. Still can't believe you're mine.” Your lips morphed into a smile, teeth still grasping his nipple. “Look at'cha. My milk's getting your high already.” He picked you up bridal style, your tongue still licking his puffed chest, as he kicked the bathroom door open that lead to your bedroom. “You got your treat. Time f'me to get mine, princess.”

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

Working 9to5, staring all day at a computer screen is what your life had been all about. You switched companies to think you might get something new to do, but to no one's surprise, it was the same. Except, this one man you were crushing on since day one.

Nanami Kento was a gentleman they described in those fairytales. Always so respectful, kind and damn he was a big feminist. Although, with him being the perfect husband material, you were still never going to cross the line because you were co-workers. That didn't mean you weren't allowed to crush.

“And then Mr. Sasaki from HR department knocked the beer over,” your TL chattered. Nanami wasn't the one to gossip, but Sakurako-san was your team leader and older than everyone. She wasn't a bad person but oh boy did she love tea. You fake gasped to give her the reaction she wanted, as you side-eyed Kento who looked a bit uncomfortable.

“Then he had the audacity to—”

“Excuse me,” Nanami withdrew halfway from the conversation he wasn't even participating in much, walking away abruptly.

After a few minutes, you decided to look for him to make sure he was alright. Of course, as a co-worker, you should. Nothing related to the heart eyes you give him, right?

You stomped towards the corridor almost making a left until you heard loud coughs reverberating through the walls of the men's washroom. You swore it was him. Furthermore, you shouldn't have gone in. What were you thinking? It was a men's washroom, for fuck's sake. But what if something happened to him? Sure.

Pushing the door in a hurry, you entered, almost tripping. “Nanami-san—” You did not whether you should be embarrassed, shocked or horrified. Maybe all three.

“Are you okay?”

“You shouldn't be here, l/n-san.” True. But seeing him squeeze his tits, and milking himself down the drain was the sight you were blessed to see. You locked the door behind, the clicking of the latch making Nanami hold his breath, “What are you doing?”

“You're going to let all that milk go to waste, Kento?” His dick twitched. You never called him by his first name, and now you were asking inappropriate questions along with calling him Kento.

“L/N-san, this isn't right—”

“Shhh. Just wanna help you. We're colleagues, aren't we?” He nodded.

Without breaking any eye contact you hopped on the counter, hands reaching for his nipples glistening with milk under the off-white light. You pressed your palm against his chest, feeling the liquid staining it, only starting to cramming the swell more. Kento lost his composure, hands falling flat on the counter, head on your shoulders. Couple of shaky breaths, fading soft moans leaving his lips. Pushing him back for a second to only latch your tongue on the dark pink bud, you were sure you're way past the appropriate relationship of just work buddies.

“L/n—ah! Can I?” He darted his eyes down where the tent peeked out his gray formal pants. You smiled. Knowing he needed friction, you adjusted your pencil skirt, and wrapped your legs around him, boner pressed against wet patch on your panties. Nanami felt like he was in heaven. He started humping against your clothed pussy, being rough contradictory to his gentle innocent touches to you before. But it was only reasonable given the fact that he was in heat.

He never knew the feeling of being milked from both ends, but now when he came, he ruined his whole expensive suit. The edges of the mustard yellow shirt becoming translucent with his milk, with a dark spot on his pants between his legs. He let out a shaky breath, apologizing as he slowly came back to his senses.

“What are you apologizing for? I started it,” you said as you hopped off the countertop. “Let me know if you ever need more help, Nanami-san.” A wink from is what caused his cheeks to turn red. “I'll bring you spare clothes from your desk.”

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎

Most lactation in men started in their early twenties. Although, it wasn't unusual for some to start late. There was nothing medically wrong with them. But you've heard things about. How much more it hurts, and how more they leak on their first heat if they do get late.

You've been dating your boyfriend Choso for almost a year now. He hadn't start lactating yet, which is why you researched enough on this topic just in case. Personally, you've never been physical with men when they're in heat. Not because it is not your thing, but your relationships were too short to actually be comfortable in experiencing it. Of course, you would never do anything with Choso at his displeasure just because you wanna try it. You love him too much. But the thought would never leave your mind. What would he act like in his heat? Well, it was your lucky day. Because you came home to a whining lactating man.

“Cho…baby, are you okay?” You rushed to him in concern. Choso was on the bed, hair down with tears in his eyes as he pressed his chest together.

“Babyyy, It hurts. I don't know what is happening.” His hold on your wrist a little too tight. “Fuck. It hurts so bad. Make it stop. Leaking too much and my cock hurts too.” You could hear—feel the desperation in his voice. His cock was on full display as his boxers dangled near his ankles. The swollen tip shining with pre-cum seducing your mouth. But your mouth was needed more elsewhere. You remembered your first sex education class, how men in heat can be relieved if you milk and suck their tits. You discarded your clothes, getting bare and settling on his lap. Your hole rubbing against the body of his shaft as you pressed your tits against his, kissing his forehead.

“Cho shhh. Baby you're fine. You're just in heat. 's gonna be alright. 'm here, okay?” He sniffled as you pampered him. “Gonna take good care of my boyfie.” You left a trail of lipstick stains as you kissed his body, slowly trailing towards the puffy nipples. You looked up at him for consent, only to continue when he whispered a “please”. With your tongue darting out, you soaked in the view before licking a stripe.

“Shit,” Choso cursed. You do it a few more times until you're finally sucking on it like a popsicle. “Fuck. Ah!” It was indeed too much because with only fifteen seconds in, your mouth was already full of his milk, leaking from the corner of your lips. It wasn't a normal amount. But given the fact that it was his first, that too at this age, you brushed it off, focusing back to sucking. You gulped the milk, each sip making you dizzy. It made you grind harder against his cock, moaning along with him. His whimpers making you wet, and his dick enjoying your slippery pussy.

“Wanna cum. Please. Wanna cum, baby.” He begged and you started fastening your pace. The sheets were wet, along with your neck and tits as he shot spurts of sweet milk in your mouth that dripped down your body. Some of it sneaking its way down between his dick and your cunt. You held on to his shoulder, giving his chest a few slaps, making him rut harder against you that the bed started creaking.

“Cumming. Fuck, I am cumming. Ah! Ah! Ah! Ngh—holy fuuuuck!” Your own orgasming cunt could feel his dick twitch as it shot a load out. His hardened nipples turning soft. He immediately cupped your cheeks, pulling you up. “I love you so much, fuck. Thank you.” He said before he kissed you, his tongue lapping against yours, tasting himself on you.

@kiffenisstupid @pastelle-rabbit @lxnarphase @teddybeartoji @rizzmin @yuta-nation @evxelisy @hellkaiserinphoenix @ffsg0jo @princessoflalaland @baekinola @chuuyasboots @cathybarn @togamest @katsukichu @blkkizzat

[anantaru]

— flavored chapstick challenge

synopsis. you put on different chapsticks and make your boyfriend guess the flavor <3

including. alhaitham, venti, scaramouche

genre. making out & slightly suggestive, fluff, gn! reader

— alhaitham

as was expected from somebody like the scribe himself, the moment you have challenged your boyfriend alhaitham to such witty game, he, in return, will take it serious, extremely grave to the point where the more actual reason as to why you wanted to play this game in the first place, went straight down the drain.

notwithstanding the fact that such was the case now, the man will always kiss you slowly and passionately, each time, introducing you to how it felt when time froze, whenever he pressed his lips on you.

naturally, to savor the artificial taste on his mouth, he tenderly swipes the tip of his tongue over your bottom lip and hums, then breaths in as glitter and a faint rosy tone was sticking all over his mouth.

alhaitham opens his eyes and watches you struggling weakly at him.

you're holding yourself close to your boyfriend now, both hands around his neck, watching him with flustered cheeks and stars hidden behind your eyes, greeting him with your precious gaze.

alhaitham blinks and found himself holding the eye contact longer, his lips pressing together to voice a deep, low, pleading tone;

"sunsettia, i assume?" he whispers, almost cruelly, staring at your wet lips and like he didn't just tease the living hell out of you.

yet not so fast, since truth must be served in alhaitham's eyes— following his answer he assured you that in order for him to be truly certain, one hundred percent, he needed to repeat that kiss once again, that exact one, maybe use his tongue a little more while he was at it.

— venti

venti simply takes every opportunity to just kiss you while ignoring the entire purpose of the game, even once asking you about the rules again— this isn't him feigning innocence, or is it now?

ah well, you know your boyfriend pretty well, correct? it's not like he doesn't understand what the chapstick challenge was, in fact, when you proposed the idea to him, the anemo archon was utterly delighted, all impulses of soul and senses numbed when he started to become excited about it.

in a tizzy as he was, one of his most beloved hobbies was the secret art in teasing you, not to forget edging you on and playing sweet, miniature tricks on you while adoring the annoyed tone on your pretty expression.

venti gently props up your face with his hand before leaning in, his gentle dreams long subdued when he faces reality. you let yourself slit into his embrace when he begins to kiss your bottom lip, nibbling on the wet skin before tilting his head to let his tongue inside.

you felt malleable, as if all your troubles and worries simply had melted like snow in the sun, trickling away into pure nothingness— and ugh, he did it once again, making you forget about the game as well.

instead of saying something, you resort to letting yourself drift into his warmth, stroking one hand into his tousled hair before tenderly clashing your tongue against his own— yet before you knew it, venti was senseless once again, abruptly pulling away red-cheeked, "hehe, it's valberry, isn't it?"

— scaramouche

sometimes you wonder if scaramouche genuinely believes that you cannot pick up on what his secret plans are, especially when it came to a game you, in fact, controlled.

you were aware of your boyfriend and on how smart he was, not to mention knowledgable— so why, out of the blue, he pretends to not get the flavor right, even worse, not a single one was guessed correctly the entire day.

come on now, he clearly knows the answer, look at his handsome face blushed with love and that awfully sweet smirk plastered all over his lips, attached with residue of your chapsticks showing a little glitter on his face.

scaramouche was getting more clumsy the more chapsticks you tried out, even swallowing down the first two letters of the real answer before messily uttering the complete opposite.

perhaps, he believes you kiss all the grief and longing away from his flesh, and so this is why he wants to kiss you more, or make you kiss him instead— see it this way, he doesn't need to say it out loud and embarrass himself, despite his progress in trusting the people around him, scaramouche found himself struggling regardless.

even so, all his thoughts, all his passions, all his delights, whatever you stirred enclosed by his immortal frame, he refers to it as a bubble of love, and your touch alone calms his fiery flame within a dark spot in his body.

with gentleness crossing paths in your view, you admire kuni and purse your lips, remaining silent as his mind was long since lulled into soft calmness.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[desertskiespodcast]

I tried to write a novel. Not once. Not twice. But about 12 times. Here's how that would play out: 1. I sit down and knock out 10 pages 2. I share it with someone 3. They say "It's goooood" like it's not good 4. I ask for critical feedback 5. They say, "Well....the plot just moves so quickly. So much happens in the first few pages it doesn't feel natural." So I'd write more drafts. I'd try to stretch out the story. I would add dialogue that I tried to make interesting but thought was boring. I would try including environment and character descriptions that felt unnecessary, (why not just let people imagine what they want?) Anyways, I gave up trying to write because in my mind, I wasn't a fiction writer. Maybe I could write a phonebook or something. But then I made a fiction podcast, and I waited for the same feedback about the fast moving plot, but guess what??? Podcasts aren't novels. The thing that made my novels suck became one of the things that made Desert Skies work. I've received some criticism since the show started, but one thing I don't receive regular complaints about is being overly-descriptive or longwinded. In fact, the opposite. It moves fast enough that it keeps peoples attention. I always felt I had a knack for telling stories but spent years beating myself up because I couldn't put those stories into novel form. The problem wasn't me. The problem was the tool I was trying to use. All that to say: If, in your innermost parts you may know that you're a storyteller but you just can't write a book, don't give up right away. You can always do things to get better and there's a lot of good resources. But if you do that for a while and novel writing just isn't your thing, try making a podcast, or creating a comic, or a poem, or a play, or a tv script. You might know you're an artist but suck at painting. Try making a glass mosaic, or miniatures, or try charcoal portraits, or embroider or collage. You might know you're a singer, but opera just isn't working out. Why not yodel? I could keep listing out examples, but the point is this. Trust your intuitions when it comes to your creative abilities, but don't inhibit yourself by becoming dogmatic about which medium you can use to express that creativity. Don't be afraid to try something new. Don't be afraid to make something new. You might just find the art form that fits the gift you knew you always had, and what it is might surprise you