#they are not quite as refined as the rest of my art

[vandervoiz]

Random star wars sketch dump

#star wars #darth vader #anakin skywalker #luke skywalker #padme amidala #leia organa #star wars fanart #my art #ettie's art #fanart #random bullshit #sketch #sketchbook #idk just had a random mood to throw all my recent star wars sketches here #they are not quite as refined as the rest of my art #but ehhhh #clearly not the height of my skills but they are something #ignore my thumb there lol #and idk what like half of em are

[mellowwillowy]

Yan! Boyfriend x GN Reader

—𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓 - 𝑳𝑰𝒇𝑬 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒋𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 , NSFW

Yan! Boyfriend who you thought to be a golden retriever only to have him turn into a Doberman the moment you are away from him.

Yan! Boyfriend who is the "all 5 love language combo" for you and you only!

Act of service? Fun, especially when his head is buried into your crotch. That aside, yes he does all those sweet ass stuffs. Anything you think of, he has done it, even to the very most downbad shit you could think of.

Physical touch? PDA if you are into that, else either a hand around your thigh, squeezing them with love or shit ton of pecks.

Words of affection? 'My love looks so gorgeous as usual! What a refined beauty my love is, no wonder I can't stop falling head over heels for you!' And you were on the bed with bad hair, drooling on your pillow.

Gifting? How many gifts have you received today from him? Starting from something little to something large? The most surprising would be him coming home with a pet for you.

"Ta-daaa! You've been saying you want a pet so I think you will like this!"

Quality time? Not a problem for him. He has a lot of time for you. Hm? Work? Better not question him further about it. All that matters is that it's enough to give the two of you more than enough, even allowing the two of you to laze around. (Unlike Yan! Lawyer Husband and Yan! Antagonist who barely has any time for darling pfft-)

Yan! Boyfriend who is practically on his knees like a dog waiting for his treat when you are about to do something ✨️ r o m a n t i c a l ✨️ on him. Say who's a good boy and you could have sworn you saw his non-existent tail wagging excitedly.

"Who's a good boy hm? Who's a gooood boy??"

"Me! Blue! Blue is a good boy!"

Well, at least he is now because he wasn't when you first met him. He's changed a lot just for you, didn't want to disappoint you the next time you see him.

Yan! Boyfriend is the guy who you can really depend on for everything. Financially? Yes. Wanna beat the fuck out of someone? Call him and that person will have a taste of all the martial arts he has learned back then, not to mention he was quite the delinquent back then. Mentally? Yes. He's always there for you, either making it worse or better.

Yan! Boyfriend who likes to show you off to his friends and co-workers so much as though you are his prized possession. The hand that never leaves your waist and the dagger he shot at the people who stared at you for a bit too long are threatening enough to scare them away. Will definitely have a separate chat with them later,

"The fuck you are looking at my love for hm?"

Ignore how their nose is red and bleeding okay? If only Blue was able to do more, he would have had his fist buried into their face even more and harder like in the good ol' days. Has no choice but to be good else someone might rat to you about his behavior again.

Yan! Boyfriend who really likes to sleep on your lap, being able to feel you this close just makes him feel all giddy like a teenager in love. Would litter kisses and licks if you are not wearing anything that covers your thighs.

Yan! Boyfriend who will almost have the same taste in music as yours because he's just like that. Sucking in everything about you and ends up liking it.

Yan! Boyfriend who will vibe with you nonstop. If you are the crack type person, he will just be as crack as you, making people think whether the two of you are high in crack or not. Will always make you feel like it's okay to do anything you want without having to be embarrassed. Too shy to sing? Well, watch him scream his lungs out (Lemon and Grape chilling with ear muffs) and his hand motioning you tag along.

"BABY WON'T YOU LOOOOVEEE MEEEE"

"What do you say we gag him up with the mic?"

"Great, I'll hold him by the neck."

Yan! Boyfriend who really loves watching you sleep. No, he's not a somnophilic bastard like Yulian. He just adores seeing you resting so peacefully. (while Eleanor panicking over darling sleeping)

Yan! Boyfriend who enjoys cooking breakfast for you. You'll wake up greeted with him standing by the kitchen or sitting by the dining table waiting for you to wake up. Hm? If the food has gone cold because you woke up late, he'll just reheat it. Nothing biggie so no need to feel bad about it ^^

Yan! Boyfriend who is always keeping his mental state in check just in case it cracks open the ugly side of him again. He's embarrassed of it yet he is grateful for it because it brought the two of you to meet. Just staying next to you is enough to keep him sane so try not to stray too far from him okay? He might really snap again and the place you once called home might be nothing but ruins.

"Love you... dear."

Yan! Boyfriend who hates being away from you! If his work suddenly requires him to be somewhere away from you, he will bring you along with him! (I might make a chart of the difference for all the LIfE Pro casts)

"Almost feels like a vacation eh? Let's visit this place once I'm done with work love!"

Although he always brings you along, there are times when he'll have to leave you with Lemon or Grape, either asking them to stay with you or you stay over their place.

"Try not to dent his sport car again yeah? He was yapping at me for hours ahaha! I will ask Grape to watch over you as well, she'll do well as your nanny. Hm? Not a little kid anymore? Oh no no, better be safe than sorry. Don't want those nasty ghosts keeping you awake during the night yeah?"

Afternote:

Blue is my second favorite! Yulian has always been the first so no one sees Blue that much... he's just so sweet... although the story he shares with Eleanor tangles everything up...

#LIfE Project #yandere male #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere imagines #male yandere #yandere insert #yandere oc #yandere headcanons #yandere works #yandere writing #reader insert #x reader #oc #x gn reader #yandere husband

[dumbsoftheart]

pas de deux

pairing: ballerina!reader x university!coriolanus snow

tags: 18+, mdni. dub-con, semi-public sex, oral sex (fem receiving), creampie, vaginal sex, dirty talk, power play, manipulation

summary: corio is tasked with writing an exposé on his university’s prized ballet student for the school’s newsletter.

notes: self indulging on my perfectionism being ruined for coryo’s self-pleasure!

word count: 4.9k

౨ׅৎ

coriolanus hated this assignment with the same fervour and passion he hated writing for his school’s publication. the only reason he’d even applied for the position was because he knew of the ways it would put him on the scene- articles and reviews with his name plastered over them were unavoidable to anyone who had half a brain to engage in thoughtful composition. he enjoyed writing critical pieces on political discourse or literature, anything that challenged him to peel back the layers of society and dissect it, persuade others to align with his mode of thinking, so the mere thought of his byline etched onto an article about ballet- of all things- made him want to curl up and die. he tried oh so desperately to pass on the assignment to one of his female partners, and even tried his hand at requesting his supervisor for a new assignment entirely, but he was coldly dismissed and cast away to the hallowed halls of the university's dance studio. he didn't notice how frustrated he’d actually felt until he flinched behind the sound of the studio door slamming behind him, clashing uglily with the buzzing noise of music that flooded his eardrums. it was unnecessarily loud, but he knew you could hear him enter. his jaw clenched the more you ignored his presence. 

instead, you focused on the strains of music you’d become uncomfortably accustomed to. the melodic rhythm of the cantilena you choreographed to consumed your body in a symphony of music. each note was dictated thoughtfully with the graceful movements you now begrudgingly danced for the stranger, weaving a story that transcended words, one only understood through the language of dance. as you traversed the space, your movements harmonised seamlessly with the refined tune, a testament to the years of dedication and passion you poured into this art form. you grew frustrated at the way his presence clashed discordantly against the elegance of your dancing and disrupted the harmony of the room. you watched in the corner of your eye how he marched his way to the centre of the room, lingering only a few steps behind you as you danced. you caught him clear his throat one, two, then three times. it grated against your patience, forcing you to stop dancing abruptly and march past him with the same conviction as he did to shut off the music, a huff escaping your lips at the sudden quiet as you stared expectantly at the tall boy before you. you watched his fists clench and then flex before he turned to face you, his pearly blond hair falling ever so slightly out of place from the speed at which he’d turned on his heel. 

"can i help you?" the words slipped from your lips, delivered with a flatness that barely concealed the tinge of annoyance behind it. your hand found its place resting on your hip, a subtle gesture reinforcing your composed stance, determined to maintain an air of indifference. 

“coriolanus snow. i’ve been assigned to write a review on you and your dancing for the university newsletter,” his introduction sounded pompous, as though he assumed you already knew of his identity. of course, you knew the name very well- his reputation preceded him. you couldnt deny that you too had once or twice been privy to the occasional swooning over the quite popular boy, but you found that now as he stood in front of you, tall and beautiful as he was, you felt a growing discontent for the man and his obnoxiously bright hair. yet, you clung fiercely to the facade of ignorance, a guise of disinterest veiling the curiosity that lingered beneath the surface. you held your head high, refusing to grant him the satisfaction of acknowledging his perceived importance in your realm of artistry. 

you pretended to think before a moment, before turning back to the speaker and switching the sound back on, gesturing for him to sit. you rolled your eyes at his request to turn the volume down. despite you hating everything that had to do with this review, you were aware of the potential impact this coverage had on your burgeoning career. you acquiesced, lowering the volume to appease his demand, a concession made not out of respect for the boy but rather with your future in mind. you knew the power coriolanus held with his words, as much as you hated it, and you knew you couldn't risk jeopardising your future at the sake of a little attitude. 

so, with an inward sigh and a curt nod, you allowed him to observe. you positioned yourself within the room as you waited to pick up on the rhythm of the music where you left off, quickly finding your place among the complexities of the song in a manner that seemed impossible had it not been for your tireless work and memorization of every single note and harmony of the song. 

as snow observed your movements, he jotted down comments in a small leatherbound notebook, his pen scrawling his disdain. "lacks depth," he muttered under his breath, pausing to look up pensively at your figure.

the comment caught you so off guard it took every bit of strength in you to not fall with the abruptness at which you stopped. lacks depth? what the hell would he know? you felt rage burn inside your chest, only fueled by the way he stared at you as if he had said nothing wrong. 

“what about my dance lacks depth, snow?” the question hung in the air, and you watched his adams apple bob up and down through the mirror as he swallowed, glancing briefly at his notes before looking back up at you. 

"the dance is fine, quite beautiful, i might say, but your movements lack the emotional vibrancy expected from a performance of this calibre," he responded, "there's an absence of connection, it feels superficial and fails to convey the intended depth of expression."

he spoke with a measured confidence, and you scrunched your brows at his words. you didnt expect him to know the first thing about ballet, and you still stood by that sentiment, but part of you wondered if he was speaking truthfully- a consequence of the sensitivity you harbour in relation to your artistry. dance was everything, and while ballet trained you to accustom yourself to harsh criticism, you always held those criticisms to your heart, and it pushed you to always do better than you had before. 

despite this, your shoulders never slumped, nor did you show any physical acknowledgement to his critique, only moving to turn your gaze from his cobalt eyes in the mirror to look him in them truly, strutting your way back to the speaker and restarting the song, determined to prove him wrong. 

“you restart the song when you feel i’m ‘lacking depth’, so i can know whether or not to call bullshit.” 

the two of you went at it for a while. he only gave you a few seconds at first before he continuously restarted the song, but you danced for him nonetheless. over, and over again. when you thought you’d finally caught him, he’d restart the song a few seconds later, and it took everything in you to not scream in frustration at the top of your lungs. you wanted to strangle him, in truth, especially when you caught a glance at his smirk the 12th time he’d restarted the music. 

it was nearly midnight by the time he’d given you some respite, and you made no effort to be hospitable as you collected your things and stormed out the door without a word. you pretended to ignore the scribbles on his notebook as you rushed passed him, unable to make sense of the haphazard writing. you hated him. the way he seemed to try seize control of your creative space and your studio made you go mad. additionally, you were convinced he was only trying to get under your skin, and you hated that it worked- even if you refused to show it (or more appropriately, tried not to show it, because coriolanus reveled in the fact that he did, in fact, get under your skin). 

coriolanus, on the other hand, walked out of the studio feeling quite prideful. he adored the effect he had on you: how despite his ignorance on your mastered art, he absorbed the control in the room. he adored seeing you struggle to keep up to his standards, watching your face twist with effort as you danced over and over again, all for him. watching the muscles of your shoulders and legs flex, the arches of your back and neck, the way you exposed yourself to him repeatedly- it festered a strange desire in him to tear you apart. you were so meticulous with how you danced that it made you look fragile. with every twist and turn of your body coriolanus felt his breath catch in his throat as if he were afraid if you moved slightly too much, you would shatter. only, he wanted to be the one to break you: tear away that meticulousness and precision built into you and mould it in a way that was perfectly suited for him. he wanted to dismantle that untouchable image you carried, strip you away of your elegance and create a dependence that would tether you to him alone. it made him care about your performance more than he wanted to admit. not because he cared for you, per se, and your success, but because he’d developed a carnal urge to shape you into perfection solely for his own satisfaction. knowing that onstage, your dance was now catered just for him, to his own liking? the thought made coriolanus’s pants grow tight with lust. 

the week progressed following the same routine: he would sit and watch you overwork yourself at his beck and call until your eyes filled with tears of anger and your body would give out and he’d leave you panting on the dance room floor, killing yourself until you got it just right. the boy was acutely aware of the mental struggles that accompanied ballet- the pursuit of perfection, the strive for excellence, the intensity of the competition and the pressure to excel. he knew how hardly you critiqued yourself and used it to his advantage; knowing if he played his cards right, soon enough he’d have you wrapped around his finger, begging him for that validation you needed to keep going. 

your performance was on saturday, and the way you worked yourself over the dreadful symphony of music had you lacking sleep. you couldn’t stop- even after you and coriolanus parted ways. you found yourself practising in your dorm room, counting steps on your way to class- you knew deep down that coriolanus’s article really meant nothing, as the man knew nothing about what he asked of you, and your success wasn’t at all tied to his review; but you were unable to stop. a voice nagged at you that it did matter. that somehow his influence could ruin you and everything you’d worked for. you knew how badly he was getting to you when the two of you crossed paths on your way to class. 

he took in the sight of you: your hair done perfectly, not a single hair misplaced, your pink tights and leotard, the pink cover-up skirt you adorned neatly wrapped around your waist with a perfect bow. he took in your lips, swollen and red from the anxious biting you’d fallen into the habit of doing again, the way you messily tried to cover up your dark under eyes with concealer and draw attention away from it with haphazards amount of blush. in passing, you’d simply given him a nod, but he was quick to grab you, looping his finger under your chin and forcing you to stare into those piercing cobalt eyes of his as he studied you. 

“you should wear white instead. pink washes you out,” he mumbled to you before turning away, his tall figure disappearing into one of the lecture halls behind you. had it been a few days prior, you would’ve found it in you to bite back. only now, you bit at your manicured fingernails as you dragged your fingers across the silky white pointe shoes in your favourite dancewear boutique, followed by the white leotard and tights you brought home with you that night.

 

౨ׅৎ

“i need a break,” you sighed. it was the night before your performance, and only now did coryo have the decency to step back for a moment in his unrelenting pursuit of perfecting you. he nodded, shutting off the music as he watched you saunter towards your dance bag, downing half the contents of your water bottle with short pants. he stood to meet you, making his way behind you and resting his slender fingers on your tense shoulders. 

“whats bothering you, bunny?” the pet name sent a small shiver down your spine, and coriolanus threw his head back slightly at the feeling of you shudder, gathering all his strength to contain himself. you turned to face him, and he felt his dick harden at the vulnerability in your eyes. the fire that once burned behind them was fizzling, and he could tell. your mouth was parted as you searched for the right thing to say, but the words caught in your throat. 

“is it the dance?” he pressed, his face now dangerously close to yours, and you croaked out a small yes as his hand made its way up to your hair, his thumb stroking it gently, “you know it’s perfect, darling, you and i have been making it perfect all week long, no? show me which part is bothering you.” 

your head spun as he spoke to you- his fingers stroking your hair, the way his voice was now all of a sudden so soft; contrary to the stern way he’d spoken to you all week. but what really dizzied you was the sudden validation he’d given you. the casual way he threw it at you; as if it was what was known all along, as if you were crazy to think otherwise. 

you stumbled back towards the centre of the room, slowly positioning yourself as you waited for his go-ahead, form snapping into movement as soon as the music filled your ears. you watched in the mirror as coriolanus paced behind you, his chin in his hand as he watched you and pondered. your eyes closed with focus, moving with such ease that it felt second nature to you. then, the music seized, and you froze in place as you raised your head to look up at the man now in front of you. 

“you’re too tense,” he murmured, moving to press his hands into the soft skin of your shoulders, massaging the strained muscle gently. it did nothing at getting you to relax. inside, you were fuming as you replayed the past week in your head. you’d worked yourself dry all for the approval of a man whose opinion you couldn’t care less about. you let your guard down for a sliver of a moment and he used it to get inside your head. you hated him with every fibre in your being, and his breathing down your neck only fueled the fire burning inside of you. 

“get off of me.”

“just relax.” the way he whispered it was short of anything kind, spat at you with annoyance as he tightened his grip on you.

“i said get off!” it was the loudest you’d spoken all day. it was barely a shout, but it was enough for the man to recoil from behind you. you breathed shakily, hands trembling at your side. when you turned to face him, you nearly flinched at the sight of him. his usually perfectly combed back hair was now a mess, curls fallen out of place as he ran his hand through the golden strands harshly. you both stared at each other for what seemed to be an eternity, panting heavily, waiting for the other to say or do anything to loosen the tension that filled the studio air. 

he looked down at the floor for a second, tonguing his cheek with a smile before surging forward, crashing his chapped lips into your plump, soft ones with a groan. you tried to push him away, but his grip on your face was too strong- and you couldn’t ignore the way your legs turned to jelly from the way he kissed you with an undying hunger. one hand made its way down your waist as he moved you backwards into the large studio mirror, your head thumping painfully against the glass, pain mixing with pleasure as coryo attacked your lips and dragged his hands all over your body, savouring the warmth of your skin through the fabric of your garments. 

“so good for me,” he groaned against your neck, the hot breath of his words sending shivers straight down to your core, “so perfect.. so pliable.. all for me. isnt that right, princess?” 

it was truly embarrassing, the way his words made you moan softly and rub your thighs together with want. embarrassing how compliant you’d become for him, how eager you were to please him. he took notice of the pathetic state you were in, watching with glossy and swollen lips how your legs trembled and your hips stuttered in a desperate attempt to gain friction against your growing heat. 

“look at that, so fucking precious,” he continued to watch you struggle, laughing softly to himself before snaking his hand between your thighs, cupping your cunt and slowly encouraging you to rock your hips back and forth. you whined at the contact, relief and pleasure swarming you as you ground yourself into the palm of his hand, gripping tightly onto the curls at the back of his head for leverage. lost in bliss, you barely noticed when the man made his way down to his knees, lip bitten so hard you swore you could smell the metallic scent of blood peer through your senses as he toyed his fingers across your clothed cunt. you moved to remove your small skirt, untying the meticulous bow around your waist and tossing it to the side. when your hand reached to remove your leotard, coriolanus removed his hand with a small chuckle. 

“what do you think you’re doing?” he tutted, and you whined at the sight of him below you, willing and able to keep pleasuring you but withholding that power. you scrunched your brows together with confusion, and coriolanus thought you’d never looked so beautiful: face flushed with heat, writhing above him while your hips urged for his fingers to touch you again. too lost in the pleasure that lingered, head thrashing from side to side with pleads to keep going- he wanted to ruin you. 

“good girls wait and do what they’re told. are you gonna be a good girl for me?” he chuckled at the way you shook your head aggressively, savouring your small moans as he returned his hand to where you wanted it most. a loud gasp escaped your lips when he ripped your tights viciously, the soft torn fabric now giving him better access to the skin of your thighs. he splayed his hands over them, massaging your muscles and soft tissue before pulling your leotard to the side and diving his tongue into the wetness of your folds. 

he pulled back with a moan, gasping as he peered down at the mixture of his spit and your slick connecting your cunt to his chin, and he looked up at you like you were a god, sticky and wet from the most trivial of touches. 

“you’re so wet for me, princess- such a good girl. you’re so good for me,” you couldn't get a word out before he took a long swipe with the flat of his tongue, lapping messily and so, so loudly- chasing the taste of you. he loved teasing you with his mouth. he thought about it that day, unashamed as he jerked his cock into nothingness when he caught sight of you on campus earlier that day, dressed all in white- just for him. the small gesture was enough confirmation to him that he’d won at the game you two were playing, that you let him break you into submission and you were now his to claim. the thought of taking ownership of you by reducing you to nothingness with his tongue alone had him cumming onto his stomach with a loud, broken cry. now, he had you right where he wanted- and he wasn’t going to let that pass just yet. 

he relished every sound and movement you made when he flicked his tongue up and down your lips, relished the tears that fell when he slowly circled it around your swollen clit, rejoiced in the way you gripped his curls tighter when he tongued your hole, gazing up at your already fucked out faced with pure lust and admiration when you came undone and released yourself into his mouth. he continued to lap and suck every moan and whine out of you until you cried with overstimulation. he stood up, licking his lips and stared down at you like a predator who’d hunted its prey. 

“you did so good for me, bunny,” he mewled, kissing your neck softly as you came down from your high. you had started to gain back your senses, and a wave of humiliation washed over you. the man you claimed to hate had just given you the best orgasm of your life, and suddenly you could no longer find it in you to hate him again. every fibre in your body ached when he praised you, called you good and cooed in your ear as you regained your strength. you continued to cry, no longer out of pleasure but in self-disappointment. you felt the urge to scream and lash out at him for robbing you of your senses, for reducing you to a state where the tiniest shred of approval clouded every bit your perspectives until you couldn’t figure out left from right. he continued to coo in your ear as you sobbed, but your eyes widened with fear when you heard the small sound of a zipper and looked down to see his cock in his hands, pumping slowly as he made his way into you. 

he shushed every one of your protests, his lips pressed tight against your collarbone as you tried to push away from him when his tip made contact with your hole, “be good, bunny, be good for me,” he chanted into your skin and your body broke down into more sobs as you willingly let him push into you. alarms were blaring in your head for you to stop giving into him, but your body was unrelenting and begging with want- and so all you did was cry as he thrust slowly into you, small moans of praise nonsensically falling from his lips as your cunt struggled to take all of him in. 

the way he mumbled his sweet words into your neck and the slow stretch of his cock prying you open had your brain short-circuiting, the sweet tone of his voice once again making you lose all sense of what was unfolding before you. you winced as he tried to thrust his length deeper into you. 

coriolanus didn’t like that. he took the sounds of complaint as direct disobedience. he wanted to hear nothing but your begging- he wanted you to thank him for letting you have his cock, and hear nothing but your loud moans and pathetic mewls as he fucked you. he grabbed at your bun, yanking your head back with such force that the once perfectly smoothed back hair came undone painfully, strands falling to your face and wisping at your shoulders. 

“does it hurt?” he asked, and for a moment you thought he was trying to take you with care, but when you nodded and his grip tightened on your hair, you knew you were oh so wrong, “i thought i told you to be a good, fucking. girl.” 

he thrusted into you harshly with each word and you cried out in pain, his cock stretching you out far beyond what you could handle, overstimulation making your knees buckle and tears fall from your eyes again.��

“thats it, baby. take it, be a good girl and take my cock.” 

your fingers dug into his back and coriolanus let out a loud, lewd moan, unable to peel his eyes away from the sight of his cock thrusting without preamble into the slick mess of your cunt. he threw his head back as you moaned through your cries, and thrusted even harder when you wrapped a leg around him to let him fuck you even deeper. 

he moved to rip off the top of your leotard, licking his lips hungrily as he watched your tits fall and bounce in tandem with his thrusts. he dove his head down, latching his lips onto your hardened nipple and sucking harshly, nipping and biting the soft flesh while his hand pinched and flicked at the other one. 

you were incoherent. your stop’s had turned into more’s and your sobs turned into that of pure desire. you threw your head to the side and gasped at the spectacle the two of you were making of yourselves in the middle of the dance studio. the mirror you were pressed up against had begun to fog up along the silhouette of your body pressed up against it, the cool glass dripping condensation onto your back and through your ruined clothes as coryo fucked you into oblivion. he looked right at you now, his fingers making their way to lace into yours as he pressed you even closer to him, your arms now bound against the coolness of the mirror. 

“fuck, princess, you’re so fucking tight. so tight for me, yeah? gonna make this pussy mine,” your head spun with his words and the constant pumping of his cock, unable to contain the obscene sounds you let out. you were so close, and the way you tightened around him as you chased your release almost had him cumming prematurely. 

“you gonna let me make you mine, huh bunny?”

“fuck, yes!” 

“s’at right? gonna let me claim you? such a good girl.” 

you moved your hips against his with no rhythm, simply in pursuit of the orgasm that coiled in the pit of your stomach. you kept your eyes on his, your mouth open with pants as you urged him to keep going. he hiked one hand behind the knee you had wrapped around him, the other one pulling you up so you were off the ground, letting him fuck you in a way that hit all the right spots in all the right places, and you just about lost it right there. 

he smiled, “you like that?”

“uh-huh..”

“you want me to keep going?”

“please- please dont stop, coryo, please!” 

his cries got louder, moans twisting up into a slightly higher octave, his face scrunched with pleasure as your cunt clenched around him with each of his words. 

“gonna fill you up with my cum, baby. is that what you want? for me to breed you?” he babbled, voice trembling, “gonna fuck you full of cum ‘n make you mine. no one else can have you.” his voice got weaker as his hips pivoted upwards to thrust even deeper. he was in complete in control of you; his elbows hooked beneath your knees and opening a new gateway to your soul.

“naughty fucking girl, huh? ‘s alright, good girls get to be naughty sometimes..”

“i’m gonna cum,” you whined pathetically, rambling over and over as it was the only thing you could think of. you were so close, and each word he groaned at you brought you infinitely closer. 

“you wanna cum?”

“i want- i want it so bad.”

“s’at right?”

“please, coryo- god, please! ‘m gonna be good for you. so good for you, daddy—”

your words collapsed into meaningless cries and shattered sentences— fuckyesyesyes— and cumonmycockbaby— as you worked each other towards release. you pulled him deeper to your center, tightening around him as the coil in your stomach finally burst and you saw white. you both came with a loud moan, yours no doubt shattering through the walls of the confined space, and coriolanus released his load into you with a long, droned out fuuuuuck as he slowly pumped his cum into you, mesmerised by the way it mixed and swirled with the mess of your own release. you whined at the overstimulation, body still jerking from the aftershocks of your orgasm, but coriolanus only felt himself grow harder. 

“coryo, i cant..”

he snapped up at you, gaze softening as he took in your tear stained and fucked out face. he took your face in one hand, squeezing your jaw tightly and admiring the slight cross-eyed look you had on and the dribble of spit falling from your perfect lips. he cocked his head to the side, smiling coyly. 

“oh, bunny, you don’t have a choice..” 

౨ׅৎ

@dumbsoftheart, 2023

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow smut #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

[nomaxart]

It was bound to happen, I suppose. It was a new project, i had to kind of figure out what exactly I wanted to do with it as I went along. So it's no surprise that with some months distance and the context of more and more characters and more of the story getting sorted that I would solidify my idea about Conway compared to the early months.

So some redesigns are in order. All in all i'm pretty happy with all of them. So it's less of a radical makeover and more just a refinement of the idea that is there. First one of them to get their visit to the beauty salon is Wolf. Who, weirdly enough quite enjoyed the visit? Who knew? Probably just enjoyed being away from the rest for a moment and the fur-stylist picked up rather quickly that he prefered a quiet visit.

Anyway, of course art for my Conway visual novel. Update 8 is due out on the 1st of November, so stay tuned!

#furry art #visual novel #conway #original character #wolf #furry

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

I'm soooo sorry you're under the weather and dealing with crappy stuff! I hope things get better for you, physically and mentally 🙏 Get lots of rest if you can, and drink all the fluids!

Headcanon requests, is it? How about the OPLA men (Shanks & Mihawk, but also take your pick, etc) with a multi-tasking reader who delights in various hobbies to keep busy, and occasionally drags them into getting involved? Whether it be container gardening, knitting, baking, sewing, artwork, etc.

Bonus if they're also contending with where exactly reader stores all of her crap when it's not in use, not at all guilty of this myself 🙈🤣

Thank you so, so, so much. It’s been a really bad day and this has honestly helped a lot.

Like I feel this hard. There’s guitar picks and tuning peg winders and little notebooks full of story notes and recipes and origami scattered all over my house.

Just gonna do Shanks and Mihawk this time, because they very much are my main comfort characters right now.

The fact that one of my comfort characters is so murdery probably does not say good things for my mental health but whatever

Hobbies

OPLA! Shanks and Mihawk x Reader

Cloyingly fluffy, here is a spoon with which to gag yourself, just in case c>===

Shanks

He is absolutely so game for all of this.

Such a child about it, if you’re trying to do anything new he’s just so excited about it and needs to know everything.

Completely in your business, asking ten thousand questions, along with the inevitable starry-eyed, “Can I help?”

And you’d have to be heartless to turn down those puppy-dog eyes.

It might not turn out to be his thing, and he might get in the way more than he actually helps, but he’s going to enjoy the experience with you regardless, and his enthusiasm is just so precious that it makes it more fun for you as well.

The exception here is knitting. Knitting can get fucked. He tried, holding one needle in his hand and the other between his teeth, and somehow ended up nearly giving himself a tracheotomy.

But if you knit, sew, or crochet something for him, he’s going to unironically wear it everywhere and brag about it to anyone who will listen.

Baking, though, turns out he has something of a knack for it. And now his go-to solution if you’re sad or upset about something is to bake you cookies, because “How can anyone be sad when there are cookies?” And, well, he’s not entirely wrong.

The captain’s cabin is just completely cluttered with arts and crafts supplies, with so many signs and knickknacks of your many and varied hobbies, and he sincerely loves it because there’s just so much of you everywhere he looks. He’s always felt at home on the sea, but this just makes it feel even more like home.

Mihawk

Not quite as perceptive to participating. He might if you ask him, but some things might take convincing.

He’s an utter perfectionist about everything, so if you do convince him to try anything, he’s probably going to fixate on it until he’s a certified expert and compete with you over who’s better at it.

More refined and traditional artistic endeavors definitely appeal to him more—you could probably convince him to try painting or drawing pretty easily, but things like sewing or crocheting are going to be a little more of a stretch.

Gardening in general is honestly fine as well, container or otherwise.  The more you can grow on the island or around the castle, the less he has to concern himself with leaving to deal with other people. And it is fairly convenient to have fresh herbs growing right in the kitchen.

Fairly adept at cooking already—he’s spent most of his life in solitude, so cooking for himself was something of a necessity. Baking isn’t exactly his forte, but he will partake if you ask him to.

He acts like the clutter of your supplies irritates him, but really only so he can give you a room or two of the castle dedicated solely to your hobbies. No point looking a gift horse in the mouth, and you know he’s just being surly to protect his pride.

You know because even if he isn’t interested in it himself, he does enjoy watching you work, sitting off to the side with a book and a glass of wine, glancing up every so often to see your progress.

#opla #one piece #mihawk #shanks #dracule mihawk #red-haired shanks #shanks opla #mihawk opla #opla headcanons #one piece headcanons #shanks x reader #mihawk x reader #fluff

[fafnir19]

Sailing the other way

Lauritz' sister's fiance Samuel and him were very different. Samuel, the suave and sophisticated heir to a wealthy family, always seemed to have the world at his fingertips.

Lauritz, on the other hand, was a rebellious and free-spirited punker who didn't quite fit in with the conventional lifestyle his family wanted for him.

Despite their differences, Samuel and Lauritz got along surprisingly well. Their interactions were a peculiar blend of class and nonconformity that created a magnetic dynamic between them. It was on the cusp of Samuel's impending wedding that an unconventional idea began to take shape.

"Ey, Sam, let's do something wild before your wedding, mate," Lauritz proposed with a glint of mischief in his eyes. Samuel raised an eyebrow, unsure of what adventure Lauritz had in mind this time. "What did you have in mind, Lauritz? Last time your 'wild' idea led to us spending a night in a police cell in Amsterdam." Lauritz replied: “Vegas would be cool, but at the end of the day it’s your bachelor party. I'll do whatever you want!" Flashing a boyish grin, Samuel draped an arm around Lauritz's shoulders. "I want to take our boat out and sail across the Baltic Sea. It'll be an epic journey filled with freedom and salt-kissed air. You in?" Lauritz, with his unconventional mohawk and punk attire, looked askance at Samuel. "Sailing? That's a bit, you know, bourgeois for my taste," he quipped, adjusting the studded leather jacket slung over his shoulder. Smirking, Samuel continued, "Nonsense! It's summer, and what better way to enjoy some fresh sea air? Besides, it’ll be an adventure, and it'll please the in-laws to see you refining your tastes." Lauritz's parents, along with Samuel's family, were indeed relieved by the prospect. "Better than if you were hanging out with those punkers," his mother had remarked with a grateful smile. With their bags packed and spirits high, Samuel and Lauritz boarded Samuel's family's mahogany sailboat bound for Helsinki.

The sun's golden gaze kissed the cerulean waves, casting a mesmerizing glow upon the Baltic Sea. "Ah, this is the life, isn't it?" Samuel exclaimed, his gaze sweeping over the glittering expanse of the sea. Lauritz nodded, a wry smile playing on his lips. "It's not as terrible as I imagined. But still, wouldn't you rather be planning your wedding festivities than gallivanting with me?" Samuel chuckled, adjusting his nautical cap. "Oh, come now, my dear Lauritz. We have the rest of our lives for all that. Let's revel in the freedom while we can. Besides, you're not so bad to have around, even for a punker." Lauritz feigned offense, his blue eyes twinkling mischievously. "You wound me with your words, Samuel," he teased. As the ship cuts through the gentle waves, Samuel took Lauritz under his wing, teaching him the art of sailing. Despite his initial skepticism, Lauritz found himself unexpectedly enjoying the experience, reveling in the salty breeze and the rhythmic lull of the waves against the hull. Their journey led them to the enchanting city of St. Petersburg, where the juxtaposition of baroque architecture and Soviet-era relics offered a feast for the eyes.

As they wandered through the labyrinthine streets, the allure of the city enticed Lauritz to explore the more unconventional facets. "I've been thinking," Lauritz began, his voice laced with determination. "I want an eyelet in my ear, like the punks back home. It's about time I made my mark, don't you think?" he declared, pointing to a trendy piercing found amongst the punk subculture.

Samuel's face turned a shade of pale as he frantically tried to dissuade him, envisioning the cocktail of disapproving glares from his in-laws. "Lauritz, you can't just waltz back to the family estate with a hole in your ear. What would my in-laws think? Besides, piercings can lead to infections. How about something more inconspicuous? Like a nipple piercing?" Lauritz let out a laugh, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Oh, Samuel, always thinking about appearances. But where's the fun in that? I want something that screams independence! Something bold." Their banter was interrupted by a raspy cackle that seemed to echo through the narrow alley they were passing. They turned to see an old woman, draped in shawls and adorned with clinking trinkets. Her eyes glittered with an unsettling intensity as she fixed her gaze on the two friends. "You just have to hold him tight, then we'll circumcise him and I'll make a silver ring out of his foreskin," the old woman mused, her eyes glinting with whimsical certainty. "All you have to do is put this ring on your penis and Lauritz will visually adapt to your taste as long as you wear the ring." Samuel gasped, his mind reeling from the outlandish suggestion. But to his surprise, Lauritz entertained the idea, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. "We'll do that, Samuel," Lauritz proclaimed, casting a challenging grin. "After all, you wanted me to do something inconspicuous. What's more inconspicuous than a circumcision?" Despite Samuel's vehement protests, Lauritz remained resolute, and before long, the old woman performed the peculiar ritual, and to their astonishment, the excised foreskin transformed into a shimmering silver ring, which she bestowed upon Lauritz.

Back on the sailboat, Lauritz couldn't contain his mischievous glee as he gazed at the ring. "Now, it's your turn, Samuel. Put the ring over your... You-know-what," he demanded with a sly smirk. Reluctantly, Samuel acquiesced, only to find that, to his bewilderment, nothing seemed to happen.

As the mahogany sailboat gently cut through the azure waves, Samuel and Lauritz lounged on the deck, basking in the warm embrace of the sun. The sea stretched out around them, a shimmering expanse as far as the eye could see, carrying them toward the next port of their Baltic odyssey, the enchanting city of Tallinn. Lauritz sprawled out on the deck, his eyes half-lidded and gazing at the sprawling cityscape of Tallinn ahead, the gentle sea breeze ruffling his hair. Lauritz raised a hand to his shock of green mohawk, only to find something unexpected. Instead of the vibrant strands he had known for years, his fingertips grazed a neat, blonde faded cut with shaved sides.

He let out a surprised chuckle, turning to Samuel with an air of amusement. "Samuel, can you believe it? The old woman's prediction must have come true!" Lauritz proclaimed, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. "This silver ring has really worked its magic. Look at this hair!" Samuel's eyes widened, examining Lauritz's transformed hairstyle with disbelief. "But I saw your green hair this morning. You must have cut it just to fool me," Samuel elucidated, struggling to reconcile the inexplicable transformation before his eyes.

Their banter was interrupted by the sight of Tallinn's spires unfolding on the horizon, a tapestry of architectural marvels rising from the coastline. The allure of the city's winding streets beckoned them, and they eagerly embraced the promise of new adventures. In the heart of Tallinn, the cobblestone streets echoed with the lilt of their footsteps as they wandered through the centuries-old alleys adorned with vibrant blooms. They eventually settled into a quaint street café, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the gentle breeze. Lauritz, donning a sailing jacket, leaned back against his chair, relishing the warmth of the sun's embrace. With a casual air, he began unbuttoning his jacket, revealing the absence of his usual body hair, a curious discovery that piqued Samuel's interest.

"Lauritz, your... your hair! It's gone," Samuel exclaimed, his eyes widening in incredulity. Lauritz chuckled, his voice laced with a roguish charm. "The magic strikes again, my friend. Behold the power of belief and a touch of enchantment." Samuel watched in awe as the revelation unfolded before him, unable to completely dismiss the inexplicable occurrences that seemed to dance around Lauritz like a whimsical symphony. "You must've shaved this morning to jest with me," Samuel suggested, his tone tinged with skepticism. "This can't be real." "Ah, always the skeptic," Lauritz teased. "But I assure you, this is the handiwork of the ring. It's brought a dash of transformation to my life, hasn't it?"

As the sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting hues of amethyst across the sky, they sailed toward Stockholm. The promise of new adventures and unexpected marvels beckoned them as they set sail toward the Swedish capital. The following morning, Lauritz awoke to the gentle lull of the ship, the rays of the rising sun casting a golden glow upon the skyline.

As he prepared for the day's exploration, his reflection in the mirror above the sink evoked a bout of bewilderment. His eccentric punk ensemble had been replaced by an impeccably tailored ensemble—an unbuttoned shirt and sleek olive-colored pants that exuded an air of refinement and sophistication.

"What in the world?" Lauritz muttered, his eyes widening in sheer disbelief. "Samuel, you won't believe this!" Samuel emerged from the cabin, his eyes immediately falling upon Lauritz's stupefying transformation.

"Samuel, it's happened again! This silver ring is truly astounding," Lauritz exclaimed, his spirit alight with unadulterated glee. "Look at these clothes! I didn't expect the magic to work on my outfit too!" Samuel's incredulity was palpable as he regarded the sight before him. "Lauritz, you must have changed into this outfit while I wasn't looking," Samuel reasoned, his tone laced with skepticism. "It's impossible for a ring to cause all this. Whatsoever, I still think it’s good that you dressed more refined today. After all, we want to have breakfast today at the Grand Hotel, where the Nobel Peace Prizes are usually awarded.”

The mahogany sailboat bobbed gently as it sliced ​​through Stockholm's sun-kissed archipelago en route to Visby on Gotland. Samuel manned the helm, while Lauritz was standing at the bow, his gaze trailing horizon. Suddenly Lauritz went through another unexpected transformation. Lauritz's black jeans and baggy T-shirt shifted seamlessly into a wide-open shirt and tight red shorts, his physique now exuding an athleticism that caught Samuel off guard.

Samuel's breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening in disbelief as he beheld the improbable evolution unfurling before him. "Lauritz, what... what in the world is happening? This—this isn't right," Samuel stammered, his voice trembling with an amalgamation of astonishment and concern. "I... I need to put a stop to this. I need to get rid of that ring." Lauritz, amusement dancing in his gaze, placed a supportive hand on Samuel's shoulder. "Come on, Samuel, don't be so quick to stifle the mystery. Embrace the uncertainty," he encouraged, a playful glint in his eyes. "Let's see what more this whimsical journey has in store for us."

As the sailboat glided toward the shores of Gotland, the island exuded an alluring mystique, its ancient ruins and labyrinthine streets promising an adventure both whimsical and enigmatic. Their footsteps echoed through the quaint streets of Visby, framed by structures that stood as timeless testaments to ancient grandeur. The island cast its spell upon them, ensnaring their senses with the echoes of bygone eras and the whimsy of forgotten legends. As they ambled through the cobbled pathways, Lauritz noticed a peculiar shift in the way the islanders regarded him. Warm smiles and nods of acknowledgment replaced the guarded glances that typically followed his punk façade.

"Lauritz, did you notice that?" Samuel inquired, his tone laced with a tinge of wonder. Lauritz nodded, a spark of amazement gleaming in his gaze. "It seems the residents of Visby have taken a shining to me, haven't they? The magic of the ring... it's a wonder indeed." The day waned into a resplendent evening, the sun casting its golden embrace upon the island as a symphony of stars unfurled across the heavens. Samuel and Lauritz reveled in the evening's enchanting tapestry, their thoughts drifting toward the next leg of their Baltic odyssey

The melding of disbelief and marvel lingered in the air, enveloping them in a veil of intrigue, as they embarked on their final leg of the journey toward Copenhagen. Clad in polished tuxedos, they reveled in opulent indulgence. Since Samuel had studied in Copenhagen, he knew how to gain access to the most exclusive establishments with a practiced ease.

Amidst the effervescent allure of the Danish capital, the two friends embraced the revelry of their adventure indulging in the opulence that enveloped them. Their boisterous laughter and animated conversations resounded through the hallowed halls of the city's elite establishments, the allure of upscale soirées and lavish gatherings capturing their spirits in a whirlwind of decadence. "Ah, Copenhagen has a certain allure, doesn't it?" Samuel remarked, a smirk playing on his lips as they strolled through the city's resplendent evening. Lauritz nodded, the vibrant tapestry of revelry and sophistication intoxicating his senses. "It seems your world has its own brand of enchantment, Samuel. I can't deny its appeal."

Samuel watched with an inexplicable mix of astonishment and fascination as the vivacious Lauritz seamlessly embraced the lavish lifestyle that had once appeared incompatible with his punk ethos.

The morning of their departure from Copenhagen arrived, and the sailboat set sail once more, carrying them toward Helsingborg where Samuel will marry Lauritz’ sister. As the sailboat rocked gently over the calm water, Samuel brought up the topic that had been bothering him. “Lauritz, I think it’s time to take the ring off. After all, your sister expects you to look like a punk – even though I prefer your current, charming look,” Samuel announced with solemn weight in his words. Venturing into the cabin, Samuel endeavored to remove the ring, only to be met with an unforeseen predicament.

His fervent words reverberated with unrestrained urgency, "Lauritz, I can't... It won't... It's... I can't remove it! Lauritz, I can't seem to get it off," he called out in distress, his voice wrought with urgency.  "It's stuck, and I don't know what to do." Lauritz sprang into action, his touch eliciting a peculiar sensation in Samuel, who found himself thrown off balance by an unexpected surge of arousal - Samuel sported a boner. Before their bewildered eyes, Lauritz's demeanor underwent a subtle shift, his gaze now infused with an alluring allure that took Samuel by surprise. As the unexpected surge of desire enveloped them, Lauritz dropped his shorts, parting his legs with a provocative air.

"Take this opportunity, Samuel. Let's embrace the unexpected," Lauritz uttered with a newfound confidence, the air thick with unspoken desires that coursed between them. Samuel was drawn by the sight and couldn't resist and took the opportunity to penetrate Lauritz.   After they made love Lauritz turned to Samuel, a solemn glimmer in his eyes, and whispered, "Samuel, I... I want to stay like this. I don’t want to become a sleazy punker again." Samuel’s breath caught in his throat, his gaze locked with Lauritz's. "What are you saying, Lauritz?" In an unexpected twist of fate, the ring tightened around Samuel's cock, seamlessly merging with his flesh. As the transformation took hold, a sense of undeniable euphoria washed over him. Gazing at Lauritz, a knowing smile curled Samuel's lips. "Tomorrow, I will marry my dream girl. And as her dowry, I received her brother to have fun with. I couldn't be happier." Lauritz chuckled and teased, "I guess even a trip to Las Vegas couldn't have been wilder. Seems like your gay sailing trip turned us both bi.”

The following day, as Samuel stood at the altar, he exchanged vows with his beloved, the echoes of a union hitherto unforeseen threading through the tender fabric of his heart.

And in Lauritz, he found a cherished confidant—a companion bound by the threads of an unexpected journey that would endure far beyond the veil of tradition. As the evening unfurled in all its opulent splendor, Samuel orchestrated a future endowed with an unforeseen serenity. With unwavering determination, he ensured that Lauritz was granted a place at an elite university and provided the resources necessary to flourish—a life enraptured by boundless opportunity.

In the wake of unforeseen revelations, Lauritz embraced the life of a typical, self-assured scion, reveling in the embrace of newfound passions and embarking on an uncharted journey tinged with the allure of possibility.

#male tf #male transformation #personality change #mystery #straight to bi #sailing tf #magic ring #punk to prep

[tj-dragonblade]

[FLUFFBRUARY FICLET] Before I Go

Rated: G Word Count: 849 Tags: Fluffbruary, Fluffbruary 2024, fluff, sap, established relationship, Hob Gadling loves Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Dream of the Endless | Morpheus loves Hob Gadling, kisses, parting is such sweet sorrow, flower symbolism

Fluffbruary Prompts: Day 16 neighbor desire horse Day 17 magazine tactile curtains Alt prompts: evening, caress

Additional inspiration taken from a couple of these kisses

Title credit and musical accompaniment: Before I Go by Yanni (Spotify link)

Summary: Season-of-Mists-style visit, some time later in their relationship

On AO3

It is a lush and expansive garden where Hob finds himself on a beautiful summer evening—flowers climbing the trees and blooming in every direction, nocturnal birds twittering their songs in the branches overhead, crickets chirping accompaniment in the undergrowth. The stars twinkle brightly in the blue-velvet sky and the moon shines full and brilliant, a silvery wash of illumination over the landscape. The path under Hob's feet winds between flower beds and lovely stone borders, toward a burbling stream running musically beneath the trailing branches of a willow tree. He follows along to a little wooden bridge arching over the stream and across, to a decadent little bower of trellises wreathed in climbing ivy and dripping with twilight-purple wisteria.

There's a familiar figure waiting there for him, and he smiles as he draws near. "Hello, love."

"Hello, Hob." Dream's eyes glitter softly like the stars, just as dark and depthless as the sky, just as beautiful. The moonlight illuminates him like a work of art, pearlescent skin and raven-feather hair, smoke-shadow robes draping him in regal refinement. He looks ready to hold court, to receive an audience, and Hob is awestruck all over again that this unfathomably powerful otherworldly creature deigns to be his friend, to be so much more; to accept his affections, to return them. He is so very lucky, and he knows it.

He looks up at Dream, who is currently half a head taller than him, and he can feel the fondness shining in his own eyes. "I'm not awake, am I."

"No." Dream's tiny little smile is both affectionate and regretful. "I apologize for usurping your dream; there is something I must attend to that will keep me away for some time. I did not wish to leave without making you aware."

Hob furrows his brow. "It's not Hell again, is it?"

"No. Nor do I anticipate any danger or risk to myself, my realm, but there may be. Delays. In resolving the matter."

Hob knows better than to ask for specifics in this sort of thing when Dream has not given them, regardless of how curious he may be. "Will Matthew be with you?"

"Yes."

"Then I know you're in good company and I'll hear from you if needed." He wishes, in some deep fundamental part of himself, that he could accompany Dream on these sorts of errands, but in this also he knows better. There are so many things in existence that are far beyond what his immortal-but-still-mundane mind can comprehend.

Dream steps forward, closer. "Dearest Hob. I would bring you with me, were it advisable. But as it is not—" he lifts a hand to Hob's face, touches him in the gentlest caress "—I will bid you farewell, and promise to return as soon as is feasible."

Hob places his own hand over Dream's, holds it there as he leans into it. "I'll be waiting, dove. Be safe."

Dream makes no reply, just gazes at him tenderly, leans in until his forehead rests against Hob's. He tangles his fingers with Hob's, splays them behind his neck and tilts in slowly until their lips meet.

It is soft, sweet, short, this kiss; and then another, a gentle farewell before Dream draws back. His hand drops from Hob's face but Hob can't quite let go, following it down, clinging; he is full to the brim with a dozen different emotions and all he wants to do is kiss Dream again, so deeply and so thoroughly that Dream will still taste him long after they've parted, will carry his love with him on whatever this errand is and know that Hob is waiting faithfully for his return.

He's leaning back in already, helpless in the face of this desire, but redirects at the last second, planting a soft kiss on Dream's cheek instead. He won't demand more than was given, not when Dream has duty weighing heavy on his mind, not when Dream has shown such consideration in making sure to take his leave. He is respectful of Dream's time and Dream's responsibilities and he will not do anything to make Dream think otherwise.

But Dream's eyes flash as Hob draws back, and then Dream has seized Hob's bicep and yanked him back in, is kissing him soundly. Hob can't help a delighted smile, at that, but it's quickly lost in the fierce parting of Dream's lips, the yearning wanting lament of his fervent mouth, and Hob loses himself in returning the sentiment.

That. That is a proper kiss goodbye, Hob very carefully does not say aloud, blinking as Dream lets him go.

"Until I return, devoted mine," Dream breathes, the stars in his eyes blazing, and steps back.

"I'll be waiting," Hob says again, the 'as long as it takes' and 'I'll miss you' and 'I love you' unspoken.

Dream smiles, the tiny kitten-soft smile that Hob knows is just for him, and takes his leave.

Hob stays, beneath the twining ivy and the curtains of clinging wisteria, and watches him go, the music of the crickets rising gently in his wake.

= Drafted: 2/17/24 Posted: 2/17/24

Why did I pick wisteria? Gosh I'm so glad you asked! Because it's pretty, and it made for lovely visuals. BUT then I looked up meanings also, and serendipitously I found:

1. Purple wisteria symbolizes royalty and undying devotion or love that transcends time 2. Victorians would include a cluster of delicate purple blossoms in their bouquets when they wanted to send a message of overwhelming desire and passion. In particular, the Wisteria was considered to say “I cling to you” as it would cling to the branches of other trees. Wisteria sends such a strong message of romance in most cultures that they’re usually best used for declarations of devotion or for wedding arrangements. 3. Wisteria—Welcome; Meeting you means so much to me 4. Wisteria gives a symbolic representation of beauty, love, long life and immortality, grace, bliss, honour, patience, endurance, longevity, releasing burdens, victory over hardships.

(There are relevant meanings to the the ivy (fidelity, everlasting life) and the willow (flexibility, adaptation) as well)

Sources: 1 2 3 4

#TJs Fics #TJs Fluffbruary #Fluffbruary 2024 #Sandman #Dreamling

[mochaintherain]

Pleonexia

Summary: Cemented as a false God, the title of "The Creator" warranted a certain Fatui Harbinger to impose his greed upon you.

Word Count: 1.3k

CW: SAGAU, implied violence, implied cultish themes, the fatui comes as it's own warning, slight jealousy?

A/N: formatted on mobile </3 A little drabble I had lying around (*´▽｀*) I really like SAGAU but only a specific flavor of it RAUGHH I also have so,,, many ideas for other fics. Yippee for summer!!! (delusional)

Zapolyarny Palace was destitute of warmth.

The room the Tsaritsa had generously provided on account of your descending far outgrew your meager body; the walls stretched too far, any insulation it may have mustered in the heart of a blizzard out your reach, and the chandeliers hung from the ceiling too high to provide any ample light, encompassing you in darkness. The only reprieve within your residence laid a stately hearth. The fire roared, breaking the monotonous cold hues of the bedroom. Its heat blanketed your face in a sweet caress. Soft whispers of crackled wood lulled you to slumber.

Temptation gnawed at your being. You wanted to rest.

But something you quickly learned about the palace was its capacity for people.

For Fatui.

And they wanted anything but your comfort.

The Regrator hummed, cold fingers trailing the bare of your neck, reveling in your shudders as he clicked the gold necklace onto your figure. Illustrious gemstones and the smoothest links of gold culminated to create art - now adorned by you. It could have been beautiful, had it not been tainted by avarice. Had it not been tainted by his prayer.

"Your Grace, do you like it?"

That moniker stirred ill within the depths of your stomach. When would be the day they realized they deluded themselves into a lie? When would be the day they killed you for being something you never claimed you were?

As intriguing as the Fatui were on one side of the screen, they were sinister zealots on the other. They despised the Gods so much their hatred festered piousness--and they paraded you like a doll around the estate, an object to collect worship and donate it to rising influence. You were another gnosis, another piece to their revolution.

The match to inevitably burn away the Old World.

"Your Grace," the Regrator repeated, the edge on each syllable chiding, "is this not up to your tastes? ...Not refined enough?"

Your head snapped up to meet his gaze. No semblance of warmth pierced his icy veil. For all the devoutness the Harbingers touted, their theatrics fell short. Ugly, false fidelity bled through their altruistic ministrations.

How you wished to curl up next to the fireplace instead of having to cling onto your robes.

"No...no, it's, ah, beautiful. Thank you," you mumbled, forcing a smile onto your face.

"Of course. Someone of your status—" he grit that phrase out from his throat, you swore it—"deserves only to be lavished in the finest treasures Teyvat has to offer! Wouldn't you agree?"

When they killed you, would he scatter his riches upon your corpse? Or maybe Pantalone would bury you with all the accessories he gifted you--

Perhaps they’d continue the facade, setting your still heart upon the altar dedicated to the Creator. The name you unwittingly stole from its rightful place.

He took your long, drawn, silence as acquiscence. "It's quite alright if you're shy. I fully understand, as your acolyte, but really, you must be more open about you and your capabilities--humbleness goes hand in hand with honesty, after all! Surely that's nothing to hide, hm?"

His hands found their way to your own, and he traced the shape of a diamond on your palm.

"What did you call them again? What was it...oh, primogems?" From your visage, the corners of his lips curled. "Your Grace, won't you show me your divinity? For all my offerings, a glimpse wouldn't hurt."

It's only fair.

"I'm...truly grateful for everything the Fatui, and especially you, have provided," you started slowly, eyes falling to his rings, unable to harbor the weight of his scrutiny any longer, "but...I'm sorry. I can't just use them whenever I wish—" the words died on your tongue as his grip tightened, leaving behind desiccated sputters.

"And why is that?"

"I'm—I'm sorry—"

"Am I not worthy?" Pantalone laughed a little, devoid of joy, "have I not given you enough, Your Grace? What more can I give? I've already built myself up from nothing, despite the Gods' negligence—must I give that up too, to bask in Your warmth?"

You winced, trying to pull away. Yet he held firm, as if it wasn't wrists he was holding, but the bags of mora he hoarded.

"That's not—"

"I really am not asking for much, Your Grace. You've shown the Balladeer—even the Doctor—your powers. So why not me? Dottore and I are close partners, and if you trust him, I can assure you, you can have complete and utter faith in me, just as I do you."

"I...Okay. But only one summon," you conceded, the crystalline shards manifesting into your hands.

As if he hadn't been intimidating you moments prior, Pantalone stared in awe, clasping his hands together and humming.

"Oh! You're too kind, Your Grace!"

"Please, just call me by my name," you whispered, before cupping the primos together into an Intertwined Fate.

"How beautiful," he gasped, "may I?"

Reluctantly, you handed it to him. The size of his figure dwarfed the small orb, brimming with power. A pink and blue glow breathed life into his otherwise dull fur coat.

"How do you use…this?” Pantalone’s brows furrowed together, raising it up to the light as if to get a better view. “It’s quite…tiny.”

"Well, I'm not sure how it fully works in Teyvat—but you wish for something and hope to get it."

"Hm? So you leave it up to chance?"

"Yes, in a way..."

"How pitiful," he whispered, before his voice dropped an octave, "you must have more power than that. You’re a God.”

“I’ve already told you all…” you stopped in your tracks, images of corpses scattered across Dottore’s lab. You were almost a test subject, “godhood” shielding you from the vivisection table by a narrow margin. If they learned the truth…

“I…am not a god in my home world,” you stammered, picking words haphazardly from the floor of your mind, “I’m still getting used to Teyvat, so…”

He sighed, squeezing your shoulder. “I see. Well, demonstrate how it works.” The reassuring gesture only spurred your unease.

With a slight nod, you pondered what to wish for.

“…Thrilling Tales,” you declared, the fate sizzling with luminescence before shooting up into the sky.

Pantalone’s mouth fell agape as a bright, blue, light enveloped your hands, swirled together, then dissipated, revealing the weapon. Another wish granted. More primos depleted, with no way to earn them back.

“A book; Is it a catalyst?” He took the tomb from your grasp, skimming its contents. “From what I can tell, not a very good one.” A frown slowly painted over his countenance. “Are you playing games with me, Your Grace?”

“W-whatever do you mean, Pantalone?” Your voice faltered as he took a step towards you. Gripping your face just hard enough for his rings to chafe and dig into your cheeks, he tilted your chin up.

“When you were with Dottore, you summoned a brilliant sword that he remarked, “wasn’t from this world”. And, with me, you summon this…” He pinched the book by its cover, letting the pages sway limply below. “Fairy tale?”

“Well—! The Doctor scared me—I, I am much more comfortable with you.” Though not necessarily a lie, it wasn’t a truth either. Of all the people you’d interacted with so far, mainly the harbingers—only the harbingers, when you thought about it—Pantalone, compared to the Doctor, was much less scary.

Eyes widening, the grip on your face went slack, morphing into a soft caress of your cheek. You shuddered again.

He smiled, returning to that cheery demeanor.

“Well, if that is the case, I’m glad, and honored, Your Grace.”

You nodded, every muscle in your body taut and strangled by your lies.

“Of course.”

.

#self aware genshin #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin fanfic #genshin impact sagau #pantalone x reader #religious themes #sagau #sagau pantalone #why do i keep writing sagau #AND ITS NOT EVEN SCARAMOUCHE? #im not even that into pantalone tbh. #maybe its bc whenever i try to write scarapookie #i end up with far too many words and far too little time

[des-no9]

Des' Githyanki Genitals HC

Hey and welcome to another lore dump of Des' githyanki HCs!!! As usual, we're all about sex and fucking in here, and githyanki are aliens. So we gotta make their bits fun.

Also, they lay eggs now (never used to apparently, we'll get to that). So I've accounted for that in their genitals.

Also!! I'l got different HCs for the Older generation githyanki -think Voss and Orpheus age- as I HC the githyanki that were alive during their rebellion, and not long after it, differ somewhat to modern githyanki like Lae'zel, and one of my OCs who will be modelling, Tuj.

Gonna go chronologically here, and start with the oldies. Voss is my model for this (obviously).

This is a long post btw lol. Also disclaimer: I'm only talking about the githyanki mostly. Thinking about the githzerai and their reproduction is a whole other beast LOL. Enjoy <3

Obvious TW for talk of slavery, breeding, eggs, violence, rape, lots of genitalia talk and art by yours truly

Older Generation Githyanki Genitals - during ensalvement to early Vlaakiths.

So the vague general consensus in the lore seems to be that the gith originally descended from humans in the very beginning, and this makes me think that their genitals early on during their enslavement and early in their freedom were closer to what we know our human genitalia to be.

But, then we have the illithid's experiments and how that changed their physiology quite vastly over the X number of years.

I HC that many of the illithid colonies varied, and so therefore so did the githyanki (shall be using githyanki to refer to them then even if that wasn't their name then). Some colonies were more focused purely on the numbers, breeding, breeding to send to other colonies for X purposes in their slavery. (I HC Vlaakith I was a branded breeding slave). So would have efficient genitalia. Maybe very little sexual dimorphism. Maybe closer to the modern githyanki like now with asexual breeding.

Some other colonies (like one I HC Voss came from) were bred purely as soldiers, attack and guard dogs. So they refined their physiology very strictly to breed the best, the strongest. Bearing in mind the need for the best warriors and breeders, so therefore keeping their genitalia tucked away and protected when not in use was essential.

It also makes me think things about some of the illithid colonies essentially neutering the githyanki in gestation and only keeping a select few breeders (much parallels to modern githyanki lol) basically to stop their slaves having sexual desire for each other or anything else, cutting it off and only having necessary urges. But I digress.

Basically during this era and the early years before they started breeding through eggs, I HC there was MUCH more variance in their genitalia (and probably some of their other physiology honestly) before it started to become much more streamlined through their eggs and no doubt the Vlaakiths interfering with their breeding to create the best, supreme, unified race in the one Vlaakith's vision.

So, I sketched up what I imagined Voss' genitals to be (obviously). I HC he has a slit where his bits are protected during fighting, since he was bred to be a fighter/attack dog for the illithid.

NOTE: his slit extends further down.

Notes and important points if you can't read my writing:

cock (easy word to use for it) sheathed inside slit

slit widens and gets wet when aroused, and the skin inside is rough, but is usually wrapped around to protect the cock even if the slit widens on arousal

cock can be pulled out from its sheath manually and how it sits soft

so, Voss' is a little different to the rest of his colonies would have looked purely because it's scarred to shit (from his hubris) They mostly all had two dicks, but the scar tissue healed his together (don't worry, he gets them separated again :>) and they can stick together as one if you want during arousal, or can be used as two For Their Pleasure :tm:

the tip can move independently. Very sensitive.

can come through slit and cock

slit gets wet and easily over stimulated

can come from slit stimulation alone

I think his colony bred more 'traditionally' how we know it as humans. Voss was a traditionally bred and live birth baby to me (Orpheus too). I think a lot of the early githyanki were traditionally bred as we know it, but some with varying ways of conception, birth lengths, delivery, even incubation

I like to think that maybe little spikes come out of the ridges on his cock to embed into whoever he's fucking if he wants to, to hold them in place, for some extra pain and usual githyanki sadism. This was specific to his colony and maybe one or two others, and maybe appears again in some modern githyanki.

I HC Orpheus has a slit too, but is maybe a little more in the human camp to what we know genitalia to be like since he's also ancient and a traditional non-egg baby. Closer to the ancestors they came from. I just like to HC that because he IS a little more....gentler, rounder, smooth, 'humanised' than a lot of the other githyanki we see. I love thinking about the little differences that set Orpheus apart from his people, even though he IS his people, the lifeblood of them. The blood of their Mother. Anyway, I digress.

Basically, for the oldies I think there's a LOT of freedom to be creative and almost do anything, using the illithid experiments, that they're aliens and so much unknown as our excuse. Also don't forget the most important - fun, and shoving all our kinks onto our fictional loves 24/7.

Modern Githyanki Genitalia HCS - egg time

So, the shift to egg laying and apparently it's asexual. I have a LOT of thoughts about this. With this happening thousands of years ago and also with them transitioning from NOT egg laying (putting in the assumption of live births here) to egg laying, there would be some sort of accommodation and change in their physiology for this, right?

Also this doesn't happen quickly. Magic can help yes! Also, they're aliens. Aliens can defy everything and anything we know as humans. I try not to press too much of our human and earth knowledge and experience onto alien races because who is to say their experiences and such are like ours. And also it makes it more fun for me to step away from the known into unknown and other possibilities. But anyway.

Lae'zel says the transition happened to egg laying after they were freed from the illithid and under Vlaakith's power. Now, I like to HC that Vlaakith kind of has this under her control (and therefore, all the subsequent Vlaakith's control). It's kind of like, a mass population control, sterilisation, selective, experimental and controlled breeding to try create her own perfect race in essence.

The execution is flawed, of course. Probably changes over time with all the (over 100) of Vlaakiths and leadership changes, in-fighting, evolution of the githyanki from the beginning of their enslavement to now. But the idea is there. And it sticks.

Okay so. As above I mentioned I HC there was a lot of differences between the githyanki in their genitalia from the different illithid colonies. And at first, transitioning to egg laying was probably a slow process as the first generation probably died out, or through their own ghustils, technology, psionics, they started to try to change their own bodies to accommodate egg laying. Some failed, some managed it. It was a difficult process that also in essence weeded out the weak for Vlaakith too.

And then once the eggs started laying, hatching, they probably still tinkered with them. Making sure the hatchlings that were born would be able to breed more and were born right, strong, and the proper future of their people. There were still probably live births happening at the very start during the transition, but magic and psionics probably sped this process along - even if it was probably very traumatic for a lot of newly annointed githyanki. Jumping from being experimented on by illithid in slave colonies to experimenting on yourself, and by your ghustil on order of your Queen? Fantastic. Just brilliant.

Fast forward to now and the githyanki genitalia are mostly uniform I think. Much more so than when they first gained their freedom and called themselves githyanki.

I think there's probably still some differences. Like genetic anomalies. And also that the atmosphere/plane etc of long-term creches can have influences on their hatcheries/eggs. Say a creche on a completely different material plane to Faerun's, or it's near like somewhere with intense psionic or void energy. I think things like that could (and do in canon!) have definite changes on physiology. (NOTE: I also like thinking about this in regard to things like skin-tone, texture, spot pattern, hair colour, face shape, accent.....the list is endless lol)

Okay. So. Without further delay here is my OC Tuj'da to model his bits for you :3

Notes:

some githyanki have less/more slits. Less is much less common as three is standard for efficient egg-laying.

all sexes can lay eggs

their shape and layout can look unique/different. eg, longer, smaller, more protruding. Think like different penis and vulva shapes. (Note: I took a lot of inspiration for the shape of their genitals from Art Deco shapes and style lol)

much like the older generation githyanki slits if they had them, they widen when aroused, and also when carrying eggs and to lay them

some githyanki are more sensitive in their smaller/egg slits than their main slits

their is sexual dimorphism between their genitals usually, but that can only be seen when aroused.

their cock positioning can be different too from where it comes from, and folds up and inside the githyanki. Lots of githyanki can control the length of their cock by using their psionics, but does require significant concentration and skill

very sensitive at the middle of their cock so some of them like to shorten it to cover that bit up to last even longer sometimes

they can be fucked with their cock tucked inside. It's uncomfortable for some, for others it's the best thing on the menu.

very short refractory period, if at all

they cum a lot. It tastes kind of sweet.

(after Vlaakith's sterilisation and population control is dissolved) fertilisation often requires psonics of some sort

I'm undecided on this, but for such a violent race that rape and also enjoy consenting sexual violence, I think maybe they'd also evolve/keep/develop the small spikes in their ridges that they can make pop out at will to embed into their partner. These ALSO come out from the ridged skin inside the sheath, not just the cock :>

their skin in general is rougher, tougher than other istik races so can take a much rougher fuck, and I think a willing istik's first time with a githyanki partner, there might be a bit of adjustment for...soreness lol

I haven't got many HCs for their actual fertilisation, their eggs, pregnancy etc as pregnancy etc can be a bit of squick for me, but most other things around it and eggs etc are okay. So I haven't thought too much about the actual way they GET egged up, lay them, fertilised etc. Maybe that's for another day.

For now, hope you enjoy these HCs! Some of them may change/I may adapt them as I continue to write the githyanki, but I feel like I'm happy with most of this!

Feel free to use any and all if you enjoy them <3! Thank you for reading and getting this far, hah. I just love the githyanki so much, they bring me so much joy. And I hope they do to you too.

-Des

#bg3 #githyanki #kith'rak voss #baldur's gate 3 #dungeons and dragons #dnd #des' HCs #des talks about githyanki genitals for thousands of words? no-one is surprised whatsoever #des writes #des draws #des' meta #tuj tag #as always love to hear your thoughts!!!!!

[adobe-outdesign]

Could you review the ixi?

Briefly limited edition for a very short period after their release, Ixi are mostly just goats, and there's really nothing fancy about them beyond being goats (unless you want to count the collars). They are pretty nicely designed goats though, with distinct eye shapes, lots of black accents on the hooves, eyebrows, and horns, and some nice markings around the face and muzzle that really help to break up the body.

I also like the personality Ixis have, being mischievous and sort of sassy. This was more obvious in their old circle art, but you still get it a bit from the converted version as well. It's fun and helps make them stand out.

This might be a controversial Hot Take(TM), but I'd argue that Ixis mostly benefited from customization. The old art was just a bit janky all around—the circle pose mostly looks good, but the default happy poses could look kind of off. The converted version cleans up a lot of that, removing things like the second fur tuft on the head that's too close to the horn to be noticeable, the unpleasant lines around the mouth, the shaggy fur lines, etc.

It also refines some aspects, like giving the lighter tail tip an outline to match the rest of the lighter areas and fixing the hind torso, which was all kinds of screwed up on the original art. It also improves the eyes so they're closer to being the same size (it still looks a smidge off to me, but it's at least better). The shading is also less messy (what was up with that pink reflective light on the tail?), the eyebrows have been thickened to match the other black areas more, and it's easier to make out aspects of the design.

Another benefit is that the collars can be removed. I do think Ixi collars look better than Aisha collars (mostly because they can be interpreted as chokers when anthropomorphized, and they at least match the color of the eyes), but it's nice to have the option to remove it if one wants to.

However, there were a few things that don't look as good—namely, the head is both a bit too big and too wide compared to the original, giving it a weird rectangle shape that doesn't quite feel right. Here's a super quick edit of the converted version to try to get the point across:

Also, for some reason the chest fur also stops below the collar instead of under it, and the red Ixi's mouth is no longer the lighter shade like it is on every other Ixi. The sideways hair ruffle at the top is also weird due to them adding a line underneath. So overall an improvement—but not perfect.

Favorite Colours:

Mutant: What a great color! It's just messed up enough to look properly mutant-y, with the fangs, mismatched horns and ears, bipedal stance, spots, and a long, drooping tail. The color palette is subtle and muted, and it's detailed but still completely coherent as a whole. This design also didn't change with customization at all, so it's still as enjoyable as it ever was.

Grey: I already covered this one a bit in my grey color review so I won't get into it much here, but this color is great. The customized version is so-so (good as a neutral base, but the eyes look a bit weird due to lack of top lids), but the UC version is beautiful with its forlorned expression, huge droppy ears, and pretty dull red accents. Even the collar is drooping!

Robot: Converted robot Ixis unfortunately aren't very good—yes, they have to proportionally match the default base, but the chunky round legs, overly large head ridge, and completely botched shading look pretty bad. It looks weirdly rubbery in a really unpleasant way. On the plus side, the unclothed version is terrifying, so it has that much going for it.

However, the UC version is fantastic! It has a super sleek design that manages to look unusually elegant and cute for a robot pet, with a subtle dark green and black palette and high-contrast red eyes. There are lots of good details in there too, like how the neck matches the legs and ears.

#I didn't. realize I had so many opinions on Ixis before writing this #neopets #neotag #ixi #neopet reviews

[cummin-n-cryin]

Hi! I'd like to be called 🎂 anon if that's okay.

Here's my request. Could I request Vil and Rook with a pâtissier s/o in a poly relationship?

~Thank you for your request!

The Pâtissier!

Vil x Rook x gn!reader

Tw: polyamory

Wordcount: 468

Side Note: Of course you can be 🎂 anon! Idk if your still here but sry this took me so long! I apologize that this is quite short but I really didn't have too many ideas for this. I'm sorry if this didn't turn out well!

A pâtissier?

Well…

Vil and Rook have very different but also very similar ways of expressing their love for you and that includes the way they express their feelings about you being a pâtissier.

Rook will freely compliment your work. He endlessly tells you about how everything you make is a work of art. He especially loves to watch you work! He finds inspiration in the way your hands move and the way you look when you're so focused on getting everything just right.

If you're looking for another person who will give you genuine feedback on your work but won't go on an endless spiel of how beautiful your work is, Vil is your guy. He can be a bit harsh without realizing it sometimes but at least you can rest assured that when he does compliment your work he genuinely means it.

There are times where no matter how hard you try to make something it just never comes out right and Rook will always be the first to encourage you to keep trying. He'll remind you that making these pastries and cakes is no easy feat and you shouldn't ever be too hard on yourself. Rook may even help you figure out what you're doing wrong. He may not be a pâtissier himself but he knows a few things and even though some of his ideas may be a bit… odd, they just might work.

Of course, after spending so much time baking you'll want someone to try it! Rook will gladly try anything you make. While Rook himself may not be an expert cook or anything, he knows when something is made well and he has quite a refined palate. He'll give you constructive criticism on how you could improve the look and flavor so that one day you may blow him away with how beautiful your creations taste!

I think it's obvious to anyone that Vil also has a taste for luxury however, Vil won't be so quick to try your creations. It's not out of any kind of disrespect but more so because of his strict diet. Sometimes he'll try it but most of the time he'll decline. Vil is a lot better at critiquing the visual appearance of your creations. They say that people eat with their eyes first and wow, does Vil know how to make something visually appealing!

Both Vil and Rook are quite creative. Rook is a little more out there in his ideas though. They can both greatly help you come up with ideas you may have never considered or even thought of.

They both love you and what you do. Whether your works are a success or a fail, as long as you keep doing what you're passionate about they'll always be there to support you!

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #🎂anon

[tenebrius-excellium]

It leaves me very confused and a little sad that there isn’t a richer, larger, more united and more enthusiastic fanbase for the Avatar movies. I’ve been waiting for commentaries on the second movie, both indulging and critical, and there’s a mere trickle of content appearing in the tags. So far, they all fall in weirdly isolated columns of character x reader, Kiri stans, ‘I loved the movie!’ one liners, ‘boycott Avatar’, Na’vi learners and people being horny over clone!Quaritch on main. 

There isn’t much meta despite the universe being huge, fairly consistent, and ever-expanding. The like-to-reblog ratio on posts is catastrophic. There’s not much art. I miss people being excited. I miss discourse, headcanons and AUs! I miss people giving detailed reasons for the way they respond to the movie, no matter whether they liked it or not. Nothing seems to stick despite so many refined details, e.g. the Metkayina using sign language underwater and having inner eyelids like amphibians! Or the fact that the explanations for the use of English, Kiri’s and Spider’s existence etc. were quite thought-out and satisfying. 

Sure, there’s the epic Pandoran world on one hand, and then there’s of course the “Cameronism”: The two-pronged personal fantasy of the director who is playfully exploring colonialism as negative while reaffirming it in the same breath, combined with a bland, overly conservative story. If the plot really reflects Cameron’s thinking, it is dangerously outdated by 15-20 years and cannot stay relevant. But the point to me is: It was to be expected. 

Avatar and Avatar The Way Of Water are US-American Hollywood stories based on military culture. Once you know that, it is my firm belief that it’s possible to detach yourself from that lense. But perhaps I really am arguing from a merely European perspective that is so used to mediocre language dubs, the strange obsession with heroism, patriotism, weapons and violence, and other US-specific phenomenons that just feel generally outlandish to non-US viewers. We don’t have the same problems, so being constantly faced with yours through entertainment media causes us to... kinda tune those out and enjoy what’s left, tbh. Because some of them are really painfully cringe up to completely unthinkable to the rest of the world. Even the first Avatar was never intended as a global story; - although the RDA is supposedly composed of international players, the representation on Pandora is purely US-American, even more, it’s not even covering all of your own ethnic variety. So if we can’t even expect European, Asian, African and South-American scientists in the space mission, what are we supposed to expect about indigenous voices of smaller civilizations? 

What I’m trying to say is, US media currently have a certain range of messages they convey even here in Europe, because, well, you still have the monopoly on filmmaking and we watch all of your stuff. However, we are very aware that your POV is narrow and limited since it rarely actually applies to us. And sooo, what do we do with the reality of our own exclusion that we are inevitably constantly reflecting? We ignore it, we roll our eyes and don’t think too deeply on it, we leave you guys to solve your own problems and enjoy what’s given. Perhaps we are able to separate a fantastic narrative from the cultural/ political clashes that come with it a little better, because most of the time, we don’t identify with the latter. I’m not saying the differences are in any way good or that they should stay that way. I’m saying that from where I’m at, Batman, Spiderman and Avatar don’t look too different to me when it comes to elaborate escapist fantasies about good vs. evil, and media might not quite be as relevant to conflicts as they seem in the US. Education is much more important, and to act in real life rather than in fiction. As for me, I’ll appreciate Avatar like any other fandom space, because the concept is extraordinary, its future potential still enormous, and I would love for more positive interaction. I harbor the sliiiight hope that Cameron might grow out of his current spree and redeem himself in one of the later sequels. Since there are going to be 3 more of them, you know. There you go :)

#avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 analysis #analysis #avatar the way of water analysis #wherethekiteflies

[divine-knight-hand]

Dream Sweet

Loki Masterlist || Full Masterlist || Read on AO3

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Summary: Late at night, Loki has a silent observer. Fluff ensues.

Word Count: 551

I had this part of Dream Sweet in Sea Major by Miracle Musical stuck in my head when this image appeared in my head. Here’s my little song drabble. I hope my writing did the image in my head justice, hehe!

Dividers by @1-800-camelia

You look quite divine tonight Here among these vibrant lights Pure delights surround us as we sail Signed, yours truly, the whale

The melody drifted into my thoughts as I saw him. The man of my dreams. Time itself seemed to slow as I tried to take a mental snapshot of the scene in front of me.

He stood at the guardrail of the ship, hands folded behind his back as he gazed at the stars hanging above the calm waters that we smoothly sailed through. These same stars lit up the sky in a milky display, making him stand out among them. They almost seemed to give his visage a dreamy haze. Maybe this wasn’t even real. Maybe I was dreaming.

The sea breeze slightly rustled his raven hair with each pass. I imagined how each star would create little specks that reflected off of his ocean blue eyes, forming small galaxies of their own in them. Everything about him looked like a work of art, and I just wanted to hold on to this moment for as long as I lived.

I found myself mentally thanking Fury for sending the Avengers to sea. In the morning, we would have to dock at a highly guarded island owned by HYDRA to disarm its security and confiscate the artillery inside. But, now, I could watch as Loki observed the beautiful scene that unfolded in front of him, unaware of the fact that he fit in among them.

I finally gained the courage to approach and wrap my arms around him from behind, “You look like a painting, my love.”

He softly chuckled, his gaze shifting from the endless sky to me, “Agent, this is highly unprofessional. What would the others think of this display?”

“We’re not on the clock, so I have you to myself for the time being.” I purred.

He sighed, “Well, at least move beside me, so I can see you better.”

I couldn’t help but smile as I stepped to his side, one of my arms lingering at his waist, “Like this?”

He smirked and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, “Yes, darling, that’s perfect.” He leaned in and kissed me before resting his forehead against mine, “You look absolutely divine tonight.”

A shy smile turned at the corners of my lips, “Oh, stop that!”

“I mean it.” He insisted, “I’ve spent all this time looking out at the world around us, but it all couldn’t possibly compare with your beauty as soon as you come into focus with it.”

I felt my cheeks glow a little, “You really know how to make me feel special.”

“That’s only because I have the proper motivation.” He leaned in to kiss me again, and I sighed against his mouth. My free hand reached up to tangle itself in his hair while the other one moved from his waist to his back. I felt his arms move to wrap around my waist, holding me firmly, but carefully.

I willed myself to always remember the way he held me. The way he stood above the waves with a refined stature. The way he loved me. The way he kissed me. It was as if this moment would last forever, morning missions be damned. I would remember. I would have this forever.

#loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki fluff #loki fanfic #loki #loki fanfiction #mcu loki #loki mcu #loki imagine #loki x y/n

[onejellyfishplease]

I am all about constructive criticism. I mean, how am I supposed to get better at writing/drawing if people won't be honest with me and give me tips to get better. I personally think that people who can't take constructive criticism aren't very bright. How are they supposed to get better at things if they don't listen to others who are just trying to guide them?

Also, I would love some more tips on how to make the shell better. If you are willing, of course. :)

I am horrible at drawing. I usually have to trace things to get a decent drawing. (For instance, I traced like five different things to make Mikey a pony.)

I'm so much better at coloring than I am at drawing. My writing needs work, too, but I'm getting better.

First of all, can I just say that you shouldnt worry about tracing art to improve your own (as long as u aren't posting it as soley your own but thats a whole other rabbit hole) I did too! It helps build ground work for a good understanding of anatomy and poses.

However there are a few holes in tracing. Forst of all it is quite limiting in the outcome of your work, as your art is stuck static in one pose. this can alkost hinder your ability to see things in '3D' and visualise objects for multiple angles. it can also lead to 'skin wrapping' , which i think is the hole you fell into here (and also a term i just made up now)

with the shell, you only coloured it within Mikey's trace lines - this caused the shell to loose a lot of its mass - making it look, quite frankly, not like a shell.

a way to improve on this is to look at more references of Mikey's shell in the show and its shape from different angles. this can help you get a good idea of how it should look, and it is a good idea to practice drawing it from these angles. this will improve your ability to think in a 3D space, (which is so darn hard, but seriously useful)

however, and you may have noticed this yourself, when you add new additions to the figure, the line art just doesnt line up! the line quality is different!

This is because the line you have done for the addition is Your Line. And we love your line.

so lets make the rest of the traced lineart fit into your style, instead of you fitting yours into theirs okay?

You may notice that when you trace art, the line work is just not the same, the lines are shakier than the original and it just doesn't look as good. this is not a reflection of your skill.

It is because, usually, (at least when I did it) you follow the original line so closely that it turns out shaky, probably taking your pen off the page a few times to take a break from the oen stroke. while the original artist did that line in one sweeping stroke.

a way to fix this, and make the line arr cleaner and more you, is to instead use the drawing as a very close reference. for example:

instead of tracing the exact lines of the art, merely trace the general shapes of the art. not only then do you add your own flair and gesture to the drawing, you are then more free to add more shapes to this sketch.

You can still use the reference drawing as closly as you want, but try to focus less on getting the exact lines copied, and more on the general shape. you linework wont be perfect the first time, it might be really messy compared to your usual tracing, and thats fine! you should see some of my sketches before i refine them!

But these will be your lines, theyll be smoother and more gestural, and overtime you will get better control over your penstrokes doing this.

Okay I cant really think of anymore to add here, I hope this helps! i think this was just one big word vomit lol. Keep drawing!! cause no matter what you do, as long as you are actively drawing you are always improving! dont be afraid to push yourself out of you comfort zone! who cares if it doesnt turn out the way you wanted it to? Its your art, You Created That with your Own Hands, and I think that is amazing.

<3

#asks #animal-lover-forever #i really hope this helped #its always hard for me to articulate my thoughts like this lol #YOU ARE GETTING BETTER #YOU ARE ALWAYS GETTING BETTER #art help #i hope #rottmnt #rottmnt mikey #mlp

[tachimichishrine]

wld it be crazy of me to request smut with margaret mitchell bsd. like. idk. could be plotless -🍳

<yk what would be crazy? if I already had a margaret smut in my drafts. that's crazyyyy right. i totally didn't already have this fully planned in my head and thats the reason this came out so quickly. yeah nope that's insane. (BTW WELCOME 🍳 ANON MUAHAHA)>

"reputation"

⫭◦⨝◦⫬

sugar baby! margaret mitchell x fem! reader

warnings: nsfw ; HARD bondage (shibaru) + bdsm ; oral (giving+receiving) ; masturbation (f) ; brat taming ; degradation/praise ; im getting a lil too comfy on this account so yall are gonna start seein my kinks ; intended lowercase ; cursing ; unedited mnmnmn ;

her family's reputation.

her family's reputation was the reason margaret joined the guild.

her family's reputation was the reason she had to work so hard, trying to repay all their debts.

her family's reputation was the reason she found herself at one of fitzgerald's fancy parties with the elite, rich and most posh out there, acting as though she belonged. there was once a time where she would've felt like she truly did, but that was long ago.

it was the reason she was wearing her most refined clothing, dressed up to appear as though she was still part of a family of importance when you caught her gaze from across the room.

the reason she laughed a little bit too loudly at all your jokes and quips once she found out you were truly a woman of high class, several small fortunes all available at your fingertips whenever you so desired.

the reason for the rest of this tale was a little more blurred.

you invited her over to your home often, offering her lavish gifts and meals that she hadn't experienced in ages. if you spotted a single tear in her dress, you not only recommended a tailor and seamstress to fix it up for her, but you picked out at least five similar dresses in your closet and ordered her to wear them in the meantime.

your intentions became clear after one week, when you had been shopping (and insisting you foot the entire bill) by her side and pointed out a lingerie store.

then you asked for her measurements.

you proposed it so elegantly, just like the aristocrat you were; it was an arrangement, is all. she would come over a few times a week, and you would pay off all of her family's debts. all of them. margaret couldn't say no, although she had quite a significant amount of doubts about the dignity of it all. nevertheless, you convinced her that the payments would be untraceable, simply an anonymous donation to your family from a benevolent third party. it wouldn't become a scandal unless she wanted it to be.

so, she didn't just let you take her measurements, but she also tried on any and every erotic outfit you picked out for her. some were cut-outs, her nipples bare and exposed as you propped yourself up on your elbows, watching her with a hungry look in your eyes, while others were hugging all over her curves. however, you let her chose her favourites, and bought them in every colour imaginable. you wanted your darling to look pretty, after all.

today, she was wearing a new outfit: rope started at her neck, wrapped around in a skillful double loop that was merely tight enough to choke back any of her retorts, and trailed along the rest of her body in a spiderweb of masterful knots and patterns.

slightly tipsy, that was all she was, yet she couldn't remember what moment you'd begun taking off her clothes and turning her into modern art. margaret found you to be gentle, ever loving while you fucked her beyond her wildest dreams, but this time you called her over with a slight twinge in your voice. the drive over here felt shameful, shameful that she was selling her body for the sake of her family's reputation, but it wasn't her place to judge herself. this had been going on for so long that it felt natural to show up at your every beck and call.

"beautiful," you kept muttering over and over, almost to yourself, as you spun her around. it appeared that you recently returned from a trip in japan, where you somehow stumbled across the art. in one of the hundreds upon hundreds of rooms you had, the infrastructure was fitted with a simple hook dangling from the ceiling, reinforced so that it wouldn't collapse under the weight of a human being.

she was hanging from it, a slightly painful experience but it was distributed so masterfully all over her skin that the searing was somewhat pleasurable. what wasn't pleasurable was the overstimulation, the way you'd been looking at her for hours, touching yourself in front of her while she was restrained, unable to move even a single millimeter.

the rope was expensive, somehow— she wasn't sure where a woman of high class would go to buy rope. you'd created a collar at her neck, the remainder of the material creating a line of knots running down in between her legs, rubbing right on her dripping pussy, then up from her ass to re-attach to the neckpiece. a symmetrical zigzag of red lined both her sides, connecting right under her collarbone, above and below her tits, and her bellybutton. as for her legs, you seemed to want them as untouched and bare as possible, so you only wrapped the rope around her wrist and ankles before throwing it across the ceiling fixture.

she truly was a sight to behold, so gorgeous and naked, all for you. your initial goal was just to try it out, a new and illustrious type of bondage that was too exciting to pass on. you opted against the gag in case it ever became too much for her, but you never really established a safe word. you just assumed that she would tolerate it like the brat she was.

you'd cum twice already just watching her and fucking yourself, aided by the feeling of her squirming as she shifted attitudes. at first, she seemed to be having fun, telling you how to shift the ropes so it didn't hurt too much and enjoying the harsh hair pulling you did to get her to face upwards and allow you to kiss her loosely.

after a while, margaret got demanding, a little bitchy even. your hands stopped playing with her face and began taking advantage of your position of power, hers of powerlessness. you grabbed her tits, massaged them with greedy fingers, then seemed to get the better of yourself as you hoisted her higher so she was the right height for you to suck on them. and fuck, did your tongue work magic, impatient as always but the desperation made it feel so good. you flattened your tongue on her sensitive nipple, dipping the tip all around the bottom of her chest then let your teeth sink into her, deep. she let out a soft groan at your nibbling, biting down on her lower lip to keep quiet as you got rougher, grabbing her in between your index and thumb in order to secure her in place while you coated her in your saliva.

"fuck... so good..." you murmured at her taste, shifting to the other side while your free hand rubbed on your panties in between your own legs. "you taste so goddamn sublime, my dear. absolutely exquisite when you're all tied up for me, so patient. you'll be patient, won't y-"

"s-shut up," she breathed out, voice shaky as she tried to shift around mid-air and ease the tension in her core. she managed to rut her hips back and forth by arching her back, painfully rubbing her clit on the rope, desperate for friction.

her efforts were amusing. "now, now, sweetheart, the whole point of this is that you just relax and let me take control, no? so why do you have to be such a fucking whore and ruin it all?"

you tightened the restraints, not allowing her to do anything except breathe, if that. not to mention, you went from caressing her thighs and littering them in kisses to grabbing the end of the rope and continuing your line down her legs, completely typing them together so that her entire body was just one long line of restrained limbs. the more concerning part was that you'd gone from holding her knees apart so you could dip your fingers on her soaking cunt before you licked them clean, to sealing them shut. the wait had already been agonizing, but now you made it clear you had no plans on fucking her any time soon.

you dropped her torso, her shoulders hitting the floor and head contorted so she had no choice to look up at herself, wrapped like a fucking christmas present. you looked down at her, look both sadistic and amused, then spun her around so that she was facing the other direction.

"you know I like to hear your pretty voice, my dear margaret," you said sweetly, then smacked her ass roughly. "you know I don't like it when you hold back"— another slap —"when you open your bratty mouth to say anything except my fucking name like a good whore" — you spanked her once more — "which you are, dear. you're such a good whore, worked up and trying to get yourself off on the rope just from me sucking your needy tits." you slapped her once more, but this time you didn't pull your hand off, instead groping her from in between the tightly woven rope. she moaned, rolling herself on the floor as she tried to listen to anything you just said, but all she could think about was feeling you on her again.

"luckily, I'm in a good mood," you smiled, tying her wrists together behind her back then twirling her around again so you could look at her. you got on your knees, cradling her face in your fingertips lovingly while you pressed a soft kiss onto her lips. "you've had enough of watching me fuck myself, haven't you my dear? would you like to do it for me? would you like to fuck me, margaret?"

it felt like a trick answer, so she just waited, looking up at you with those beautiful eyes of hers she knew you couldn't resist. you used the fact that she was suspended from her ankles at a height that allowed her head to rest flat on the ground in order to part your knees and lower your aching pussy onto her face.

she tried so hard to please you (at first, it was about the money. she was your sugar baby after all, and that was essentially the extent of your relationship. and yet, as time passed, she really did want to make you feel as good as she did when you had her laying down on your plush duvet and pillows, eating her out). before you could even lower yourself all the way, her tongue was already sticking out, reaching upwards to get you on her as soon as she possibly could.

"eager now, aren't we?" you teased for a second, halting your descent just so you could feel her breath hitting you in a feverish attempt to get your cunt on her lips for a few more seconds, then gave in with a stretched out moan. "oh... oh my fucking... mmmn... margaret... you needed me that badly, did you?"

the words stopped and the moaning begun; you didn't have any reason to hold yourself back, nor did you. she sucked on your lips so hard, bottom teeth grazing your throbbing clit while you helped by bouncing yourself on her. you grabbed onto her tits while she finally managed to thrust up into you, fucking you on her tongue with the kind of skill that felt unnaturally good.

the stimulation was wonderful, but her sobs muffled into your ass were even sweeter. she tried, so hard, to rub her thighs together while she ate you out all the way to your orgasm, but you'd learned your lesson and made them tight enough that there was frankly no point in trying. but she'd been so obedient that you figured you'd indulge your sweet darling once you finished screaming her name through your high.

you got off of her face, delicately kissing off the remnants of your cum on her cheeks. "amazing as always, my beauty. shall I return the favour?"

one yank and the whole thing fell apart— margaret fell onto the ground, still tied up with her arms bound behind her back and legs practically sewn together, but no longer hanging from the ceiling. you grabbed a knife off of the table in the corner (your safety net, so to speak) and cut off the attachments on her legs and her wrists. her torso remained bound with her tits sticking out of the circle of red rope, however, because you had thought about it a bit longer and decided you did indeed want to watch her try to fuck herself pathetically on the piece of rope tied between her thighs.

and so, you did. with her on all fours, you grabbed onto the piece of rope now loosely sticking out of the collar and yanked it. she gagged, a beautiful, needy choking noise as it simultaneously collapsed around her throat and her pussy. you eased up a little bit, but in no time your other hand was clutching a handful of her now messy hair while she tried to rub her hips on the piece of rope.

she was starting to cry again, the frustration too much to bear but not enough for her to voice her desire out loud, not letting up on her pathetic humping. you softly kissed the back of her neck, whispering into her skin that this was enough, that she could rest and you would take care of her, but she didn't seem to believe a word of it.

to show that you were serious, you flipped her on her back and stopped kneading her soft flesh in favour of kneading her gushing pussy. you intended on fingerfucking her, you really did, but she was so wet and you didn't know if you could handle letting all that perfectly good arousal go to waste. you grabbed some of the pillows you had stashed in the corner of the room, placing them under her so she would be comfortable as you went down on her, shoulders under her knees and her cunt open to you and only you.

she really did have a beautiful voice, especially when she sung your name out. high pitched, but sultry in the most gorgeous of octaves, as though she were an angel condemned to this world. she let out needy whines as she started to get closer and closer, but she was already on the edge for the past hours and it barely took a few thrusts of your tongue inside of her to have her spasm all over your face.

you laughed, scolding her briefly for not warning you but at the same time, exceedingly pleased. somehow, the ropes looked as flattering on her as the finest pieces of lingerie, and you told her so as you cut her free and kissed her softly.

"how was that, dear?" you helped her back into her dress once you'd put on your own clothes. "was I too harsh?"

she shook her head. "not at all, it was rather... fun. you really do have the most incredibly lewd ideas, though. I'm not sure how you do it," she added with a gentle tease.

you helped secure the body of her dress, tying it from the back before sliding your hands around to the front and holding her from behind. you kissed her neck up and down, taking your time as you smelled her and relished in her taste.

"I have to confess, I was hoping I could've kept you here longer, but it would've been cruel for me to deny you for that length of time. you see, as I promised, every... session, I repay part of your family's debts."

margaret was such an impatient woman. "and? why are you reminding me of this?"

you ignored the tone of her ask and laid kisses along the back of her ear. "well, they're all paid up. I put in the last payment right before you arrived today."

an awkward silence ensued, neither of you sure what to say next. thankfully, she was the one to do it.

"in that case, our arrangement... it's over."

"yes," you said solemnly. "margaret, dear, I know I called it an arrangement, but—"

"shut up."

this kind of brashness was common with her, no doubt, but what surprised you the most was her swirling around to meet your gaze and pulling you in by the waist.

"our arrangement is not over. I should still like to continue to meet you for these sessions, as you say," she stated, very matter-of-factly, like there was nothing you could do to argue her words. "will that be a problem?"

you hid your elation well, instead leaning in to kiss her deeply. "not at all. but I'm not sure how I will be able to compensate you for your time, darling."

"oh really? I could think of a number of ways. a day at the spa, a reservation at the splendid restaurant that just opened on fifth, the roses are quite expensive this time of year too..."

you giggled, picking her up so that she would be weightless as you spun her around excitedly.

"anything you want, margaret. I'll get you anything your heart desires, because all that mine wants is you."

#fucking speediest fic i've ever written i blinked and it was there on my screen like wtf #she's so fucking hot i need to write for margaret more often #margaret mitchell bsd #margaret bsd #bsd margaret #guild bsd #bsd guild #bsd x reader #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd guild x reader #guild x reader #bsd margaret x reader #margaret x reader #margaret mitchell x reader #margaret x reader smut #margaret mitchell x reader smut #bsd x reader smut #down bad tm #im unwell for them

[saytr]

Just wanted to drop by and say I love your art! You probably get a lot of asks like this, but it truly is beautiful. Your grasp on anatomy is INSANE, and your art is really the only reason I do anatomy studies. I love how confident your lines are, how refined they are. You're an extreme inspiration to me and I really want you to know that.

Also, SIDE PROFILES (human side profiles specifically). YOU'RE SO GOOD AT THOSE ALCHLCHXHLCLLUVVI. I can barely make them look okay 😅

And even though you draw humans quite regularly, you still draw animals really well and the style is consistent.

I literally squeal over your art daily, you have no idea! I sound like a goat!

But really, I love your art, so never stop arting my friend! And if you ever do, I hope you had fun while doing so :)

What an ask, what a message! I Am honored!

First of all, i am touched and happy to know that i am an inspiration to you! And that my doodles got you interested in anatomy! It is a fun thing to draw some naked humans! Their skin and how light brings out all the musceles and how their skin bends! Such art in itself! I hope you find it as lovely as me! <3 AND have fun ofc!

Fun fact! I learned side profils by my grandpa, he was an amazing artist! He even touched the first versions of Photoshop! He tried at least to teach me the rest, but i got a short attention span when i was younger, so he just gave me his Apple Macbook and let me draw some dinos! XD And sims, i played a lot of sims on his Mac. Side profils are actually really easy, once you have a system, i may do some "How i draw XXXX" if people are interested! ;3 I drew at first only animals, dragons... But most i drew dinosaurs! Humans came WAAAY later, tried to draw humans when i was younger as well, but a family member made fun of those and i stuck with animals! HA! Till i met the actor Sebastian Roche at my city Con, and he wrote on the autograph pic: "Draw more humans" which i did. :3

Sometimes my mental health isn't the best and i take breaks from drawing, but i will return to it! I am happy that you enjoy my silly doodles and love to see more younger folks trying to get their lil feet into the colourful rainbow stream! Dive in, paddle along or float on it, your way of swimming, your style! ;D

#ask #cococroissant #personal