#HEHE... <:3< /div>
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(cc: @nxmelessfighter )
ok so technically this isn't really For the outfit meme thing though that is what made me think of it but i needed to draw it and get it out of my brain lol
so like. yeah. been thinking of idol au a lot lately and these 2 are fun and this just seemed Perfect for them
(original shot under the cut)
#HEHE... <:3#thats yuichi#yuichi & ookurikara#yuichi:idol-au#idol-au#mun draws#visuals:yuichi#lol ookurikara's hair is so hard to draw#so i took some liberties with the styling lol#and yuichi with a center part... odd#but wahhhh this song...#this stage... yeah...#tried some new brushes#i'm still struggling to make eyes (lashes mainly) to look the way i want to... sigh
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#whimsical#whimsihorror#whimsigoth#whimsicore#whimiscal#horror#incomprehensible#hehe :3#silly me hehe
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“shit, this pussy’s damn tight, girl.” toji chuckles, leaned against the wooden headboard of his mattress, with your pretty cunt impaled on his dick. you’re sat upon the man’s lap, back slumped into his bigger body as he lifts your legs to your chest with a singular arm.
“hnn—! thank y-you, thank you, thank you !” you slur, holding onto the man’s bigger arm for leverage as he pumps his cock against your cunt, your round butt slapping against his pelvis.
“tch,” he smirks, “thank you? haven’t heard that one b’fore.” his thrusts come to a slow, leaving you breathless and dazed. you lay back against the man’s chest as he continues lazy but brutal pumps to your poor cunt, pushing against him in an attempt to get him to slow.
“hnn.. ‘m sorry..” you cry out, embarrassed, face growing flushed as your nose scrunches at the memory of a few seconds prior.
toji can’t help but fall into a short fit of laughing at your adorable innocence, soft lips curled into a mean smirk, “‘s alright, sweet thing. yer so polite, hm?” he taunts, pressing a weighted kiss against your lips. you slip your tongue against his before you lose the chance, pressing your face closer to the man’s touch.
“y’take cock like a naughty brat, though.” he whispers in between a breath.
his sloppy tongue overrules yours, slowly but surely swallowing you whole. he peeks through a sliver of his eye, watching you pant into his mouth with your eyes squeezed tight, drool leaking down your chin, so entirety focused on kissing him back. “toji—“ you mewl.
“ya started it,” he mumbles against your swollen lips, giving your cunt a soft slap. you jerk and cry against his hold, pushing the said assaulting hand away, making him giggle. “what a dumb little thing.”
“please ! ‘m gonna c-cum! toji, please, please—“ you cry as his thrusts get harder, pace becomes sloppier, before it all comes to an abrupt stop.
your pants slow, gentle mewls that leave your lips as you begin to fall into a fit of sobs. “no..” toji breaks a grin, petting against your hair whispering sweet praises, “‘m sorry doll, daddy’s tired. let me have a break, yeah?” he adores how you look up to him with bleary eyes, chest full of pained hiccups as you attempt to bounce yourself atop his cock in your position. “..w-wanna cum!”
“don’t be so selfish, sweet thing. ‘m old, ‘s what ya get for hangin’ around me.” he lies through his teeth. pace slowly resuming. his creamy, slicked up cock causes his thrusts to grow in noise, face flushing at the evidence of the use of your poor cunt.
“daddy —!”
“shhh, settle down and let daddy focus, yeah?” he mumbles breathlessly against the shell of your ear, “or else daddy might get too tired.. and won’t be able to finish ya off.” he sighs.
#ima change up the ending soon! but old draft and wanted to get this out#:> toji hehe#jjk#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#toji smut#fushiguro toji x reader#toji <3#toji toji toji toji#jujutsu toji#jjk toji#jujutsu kaisen toji#toji zenin#toji fushiguro#toji x reader#toji fushiguro smut#toji x you#toji x y/n#toji fushiguro x reader#drabbles ⋆⑅˚₊
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Really quick doodles of a few scenes from the stream yesterday. Including combat flirting taunting, gale’s magnificently distracting shoes and.. whatever you wanna call gale agreeing to give 15 gold to astarion 😐😑😐😑😐 (that’s me blinking)
#bloodweave#astarion x gale#gale x astarion#bg3#baldur's gate 3#gale dekarios#astarion ancunin#they are so funny god help. thank you to whoever sat Neil next to Tim#my roommate turning to look directly at me whenever they were interacting lik bestie please stop I am trying to be normal. don’t look at me#my roommate also said Neil acting low-key obsessed with gale and I could only say wow he’s just like me fr fr.#if I didn’t still struggle with getting shadowhearts likeness you would get a drawing of her hugging bing bong too but alas …#anyway the stream was so fun#can’t wait til tomorrow hehe
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Creaking Bigb!! I did these a couple of nights ago after watching bigb’s first wildlife ep >:]
#Wild life smp#wild life smp spoilers#wlsmp#wlsmp spoilers#bigb#bigbst4tz2#bigbst4tz#creaking bigb#art escapades#traffic smp#trafficblr#I SAW THE NAMEMC UPDATE TODAY AND RAN TO POST THIS HEHE#I might do a new design based more on his skin but I wanted to post this regardless since I did it a few days ago#I like the subtly of this design… a little more creepy that way#same vibes as watcher bigb to me#I love him… weirdo <3#BRUH THE SKIN IS SO COOL THOUGH IM VERY EXCITED#namemc spoilers#I’ll tag that even though I did these before I knew lol#bro posting art every day… I missed her
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the gang gets snacks
#horsecomix#mlp#mlp:fim#my little pony#applejack#twilight sparkle#rarity#pinkie pie#rainbow dash#fluttershy#my posts#my art#my girlfriend helped color this!!! :D#pinkie is one of my faves to draw because i can just :3 her all day#also hehe there's a cameo in this one
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“Accursed creator! Why did you form a monster so hideous that even you turned from me in disgust?”
#Frankenstein#gothic literature#gothic lit art#victor frankenstein#happy new year lads#ive been thinking about nothing else but them for the past 3 days#been trying to figure out a decent design for victor and i think im getting closer#he needs to have a cruelness to him#and he needs to be kind of pathetic#someone who the creature could snap in half yknow#and i need to make the creature more Mean looking but it just feels right to draw him sad and despairing#THAT BEING SAID i think i did a good job here hehe#henry is next :)))#my art#illustration
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more deadpool and wolverine thoughts
#deadpool#deadpool and wolverine#deadpool 3#wolverine#deadpool x wolverine#marvel#poolverine#deadclaws#my art#i had this sketched out at the time of my first post but i finally finished it :')#so yeah i did NOT lie on the first post when i said there would be more#i had to force myself to finish this bc i was being lazy but ended up enjoying drawing them again hehe
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𝐈 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒
even in their relationship with you, they still have their moments of jealousy every now and again
⟡ content: zayne/sylus/xavier/rafayel x gn!reader; established relationship; luke & kieran appearance in sylus’ scene; new receptionist in zayne's scene; andrew appearance in xavier's scene; a little silly and a lot fluffy; 0.8–1k words per scene
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ZAYNE ⟡
Every situation requires an assessment to determine the most logical course of action. Zayne embodied this statement in his work, and even in parts of his relationship with you. One such part was when it came to jealousy. In all his assessments, 99% of the time, there was no threat, and, therefore, no intervention required. In any case, if a guy were to approach you in such a way, he trusted you entirely as well to not entertain him. However, as he opened his office door to call you from the waiting room, he was confronted by that 1%.
The new receptionist hired to work alongside Yvonne was young, charming, and far too friendly. Especially towards you. You stopped by quite regularly. Sometimes for your scheduled check-in appointments, and oftentimes to simply visit Zayne during his downtime. That was enough for the young man to recognise you, his energy ignited by your presence.
Zayne could only see your side profile as you stood by the receptionist desk, engaged in a conversation with the young man. You appeared to be all smiles with him today. Whatever story he was telling seemed to be so thrilling. Zayne’s face remained calm, aside from the twitch of his jaw when he clenched his teeth. If anybody had been watching, they would have likely jumped at such a sign of vexation by the cardiac surgeon.
Until that point, he thought he had known what jealousy was. He had read it in books and seen it in TV shows, all of which portrayed jealousy leading to several outbursts and stand-offs. However, as he felt something rising from the pit of his stomach and burning in his chest, he understood that the purest kind of it now flared inside him. It was a dangerous emotion that clouded his mind and, before he knew it, his feet had carried him right to your side.
Mr. Chatterbox regarded Zayne with disbelief at his approach, standing up to properly greet him.
“Doc! What a rare sight seeing you personally greet a patient at the desk.”
Zayne paid only a cursory glance and the slightest nod of acknowledgement to him before his attention was narrowed on you.
“If you’d like to come in now, Y/N,” Zayne said, his voice smooth and warm.
You nodded. “Of course.”
As you walked, he placed his hand at the small of your back, pulling you closer to him by just a fraction. He turned his head to the side, enough so the young man could see his sharp eyes. Zayne wasn’t one for outbursts, so he hoped this calculated display was enough of a warning.
Watching Dr. Zayne disappear with you into his office, the receptionist muttered to himself, “Why does it feel chillier in here than before?”
Yvonne, a bystander to everything that just occurred, quietly approached her freshly hired colleague from behind. She delt a swift smack on his head with the edge of her palm. He yelped out in exaggerated pain, rubbing at the spot as if she had just given him a bruise.
“Could you be anymore oblivious…” she sighed, shaking her head. Her gaze then turned fiery as she began to scold, “And how many times have I told you to stop yammering around patients!?”
At the sound of Yvonne’s voice, he immediately redirected his efforts. Not even addressing his colleague’s prior criticism, he clasped his hands together.
“Miss Yvonne! How are you doing on this lovely–”
“Fax this, please,” she interrupted, holding a referral letter up directly to his face.
He gave a mock shiver, taking the paper from Yvonne’s hand. “So cold in this division.”
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“It seemed like you were making good conversation with our new hire,” Zayne commented, closing the door behind him.
You breathed a laugh. “He’s quite chatty. I guess it’s good to have someone so energetic working at the desk.”
That sensation within Zayne turned molten, though, you couldn’t have known with the coolness of his palm. What would be his intervention here? Maybe he needed to have a stern conversation with the young man, or perhaps he had to be more obvious in his affections towards you. He could never match the energy the receptionist had, so it would be impossible to achieve such a feat.
In his momentary stewing, you let out an uncertain hum.
“To be honest, he kept talking about himself... it was a little overwhelming,” you confessed sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck with your hand. “I couldn’t be impolite to him, so I just smiled and nodded at whatever he said!”
Instantly, Zayne’s mind cleared. His jealousies dwindled into nothing more than ashes. A part of him even felt silly at how intense he was feeling just a few seconds ago.
Unexpectedly, he rested his head on your shoulder with a sigh. Your eyes widened with confusion before you chuckled.
“Isn’t this a bit unprofessional, doctor?” you teased.
“Feel free to file a complaint to the hospital’s human resource division,” he retorted, not missing a beat.
Your mirth readily turned into concern at the affectionate display.
“But seriously, Zayne, is everything okay?” you asked, poking at his cheek.
Zayne lifted his head. He seemed to be, surprisingly, relieved. Though, you couldn’t figure out what exactly he would be relieved about.
“Yes, everything is perfect now.”
SYLUS ⟡
There was nothing that a deathly glare or a good shove couldn’t do to resolve Sylus’ jealousy. Warding off any unsuspecting parties was his speciality, especially if it involved them getting too close to you. However, the leader of Onychinus was thrown for a loop when his very own henchmen were sparking these feelings.
“You are… going out with Y/N today?” Sylus spoke slowly, as if sounding out syllables to a baby. “Is what I’m hearing correct, Luke?”
Kieran not-so-subtly kicked Luke in the shin. Luke stifled a groan. Rather than be on their way to Linkon (and to you), they were here being confronted by the boss. It was an unfortunate slip-up from Luke as they were about to leave, which caused Sylus to sternly halt their exit.
“Yes, boss.” Luke replied, trying to stand up straighter with only one good shin.
“And for what reason exactly?” Sylus asked.
Luke resignedly sighed.
“They wanted someone to–”
“Help clean their apartment!” Kieran quickly finished.
He turned and gave a pointed glare to his twin brother. You better follow along, it seemed to threaten.
Luke began nodding profusely, “Yep! Gosh, boss, you wouldn’t even believe the mess!”
“This type of menial work was probably too peasantry for you–”
“So, they invited us instead!”
Sylus’ henchmen stood there, looking quite proud of themselves and their innocent display. Sylus rolled his eyes at their dramatics. Luke and Kieran could do any task Sylus asked, no matter how dirty, and yet they were quite terrible at lying. Maybe he needed to teach them some skills in deception later. He dismissed them sharply with a wave of his hand.
“Go. Make sure to return before I leave this evening.”
The henchmen bowed, preparing to scurry away, but before they could, Sylus spoke again,
“Don’t take your eyes off them for even a second, do you understand?”
They turned back to Sylus and nodded, bowing once again.
“And–”
Sylus’ continual interruption of their exit left them in an awkward position right at the threshold of his office.
“–they don’t enjoy mopping, so I trust one of you will play the gentleman and take up that task.”
“You got it, boss.” Luke and Kieran said in unison before finally departing.
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Sylus was planning on sleeping before your date in the evening, but that was completely out of the question now.
Hanging out with Luke and Kieran? To, supposedly, clean? He knew what they had told him was a lie. However, a small, burning part of him was frustrated. If that had been the truth, he naturally would have been the far better partner. With the time you had shared together, surely you had not so quickly found his own company lacklustre in comparison to his henchmen. He could have been in your apartment, with you, cleaning together. Instead, he was in his mansion, alone, and grumpy. Grumpy enough to open his tablet, and switch to his camera feeds connected to Mephisto.
He had asked if his skilled companion could do a bit of reconnaissance at your apartment to confirm what this ragtag trio were doing. As the camera feed loaded, he saw that your home was empty. Internally, he cursed. Mephisto flew down to street level, and, as luck would have it, three familiar people stepped out of the apartment complex. Luke and Kieran were there (wearing face masks and caps that disguised their faces as opposed to their crow masks) along with you.
Sylus sat up in his bed.
He followed this trio as they walked to a nearby clothing store. Unfortunately, it would be considered odd for a crow to be indoors, so all Mephisto could do was perch atop a bench in front of the establishment and watch the three of you retreat inside behind the automatic glass doors.
Tossing the tablet aside onto the silk sheets, Sylus crossed him arms. If the thought of not being able to clean with you had made him grumpy, then seeing that he was not invited to shop for clothes with you truly made his blood boil with jealousy. As he attempted to get some rest, he thought about casual ways to mention on this evening’s date how he could rent out entire department stores for you if you wanted.
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Sylus tapped his dress shoes rhythmically against the floor, awaiting your door to be opened after he had rung the bell. He had arrived at exactly 5 o’clock to pick you up, and although he was always well put together, he put in a little extra effort on his hair this time.
He heard the door unlock, slowly opening to only reveal your head poking out. He cocked his head to the side.
“Sweetie, are you trying to hide from me?”
“Mmm, think of it more like I’m building anticipation,” you explained with a grin on your face.
Sylus laughed fondly. He leaned his own head against the wall beside the doorframe, turning to look at you.
“Consider me sufficiently anticipated,” he replied. “Now, may I see you?”
You gestured for him to move back so you could give a grand reveal.
“I just bought this today.”
The door swung open, and you stepped outside.
“How do I look?”
Very little could surprise Sylus; however, you had utterly blindsided him in this moment. You were wearing a dress that Sylus didn’t recognise from your current wardrobe. He knew then that the outing with Luke and Kieran had been to surprise him with a new dress for your date.
Flowy, ruby fabric draped against your figure, reaching down to your ankles. His eyes followed the heart-shaped neckline that framed the pearl necklace that rested at your collarbones, matching the accessory in your hair. All this prepared just for him.
“You look absolutely radiant,” he breathed.
Closing the distance, he snaked a hand around you, toying with the smooth material under his warm fingertips. Seeing how gorgeous you were almost alleviated his earlier frustrations, until he came to a sour realisation.
“Though, I can’t help but be… annoyed that Luke and Kieran saw this surprise before me.”
You bit your lip. Of course, Sylus had figured out what his henchmen were doing throughout the day. His voice grew deeper as his lips brushed against your ear.
“Next time, kitten, you should invite me to go with you instead.”
XAVIER ⟡
It took very little to spark Xavier’s jealousy, as much as the man himself would want to deny it. Strangers, colleagues, and acquaintances could cause his unassuming appearance to transform into a hostile front if they got too friendly with you. But today was another ordinary workday, so there would surely be no situation where Xavier should feel such a way.
There had been a string of quiet days at the Hunters Association that meant that Team Alpha could finally make use of their office. Namely you and Xavier, who usually were assigned to field missions. Your neglected chair squeaked under your weight as you stretched your body, lifting your arms high into the air then relaxing. Twirling the pen in your hand, the words on page about recent energy fluctuations seemed to swirl in your vision. Xavier turned from his own desk to observe you.
“I’m going to get a drink from the vending machine.” He stood up, the wheels of his chair clattering against the hard floor. “Do you want one too?”
“Green tea, please,” you replied.
“Warm or cold?”
“Cold,” you decided. You clapped your hands against your face, squishing your cheeks. “I need to shock my system to wake it up.”
Xavier’s face broke into a smile. “Sounds like a good plan.”
Before he could walk away, a voice called out your name.
“Morning Y/N!”
Xavier narrowed his eyes slightly at the approaching man.
He was tall (though not as tall as himself), with ashy hair precisely tousled to reveal his forehead, and friendly eyes. Xavier’s senses heightened in the same way as they would in a battle with a Wanderer. The unfamiliar man had greeted you with such familiarity. Only two words had been spoken, yet it was enough to irk Xavier. If he had called you less kindly, that would have helped to lower his guard.
To his surprise, the man turned his attention towards him.
“Ah, you must be Xavier! I’ve heard much about you.” He extended his hand. “I’m Andrew, head of the Data Analysis sector.”
Xavier stared at Andrew’s hand for a moment—blinking and discerning. Head of Data Analysis… Is this some kind of power move? He gave the hand a brusque shake.
“Excuse me, I need to get some drinks for the two of us,” he said, turning on his heel and walking away to the office’s break room.
Andrew furrowed his brows as he watched Xavier leave.
“Quite elusive, isn’t he?”
You shook your head.
“Maybe when you first meet him. But once you get to know him, you’ll see just how reliable he is.”
The tenderness in your tone came unconsciously to you, but it always happened when you spoke about Xavier to others. Especially towards those who might misinterpret his neutral disposition.
Small talk continued over the next minute between you and Andrew, until he suddenly looked at you with a slight frown.
“There’s an eyelash on your face,” he said, pointing vaguely to the left side of your face.
You used your fingers to swipe across your skin, yet Andrew still shook his head.
“No, no. It’s right here.”
He brought his finger closer to show you exactly where it was.
The dull thud of plastic bottles falling to the ground could be heard a couple of metres beside you. A blinding light zipped through the air, alongside a gust of air that swept your hair back. Before you could even register what had caused this phenomenon, Xavier appeared between you and Andrew. Your wide eyes stared at his hand gripping Andrew’s wrist.
“Xavier?” you called in surprise.
Xavier seemed equally shocked at how instinctually he acted. One moment he had seen Andrew’s hand move closer to your face, and the next he was face-to-face with him.
“I-I don’t know what came over me.” He released Andrew from his iron hold. “I'm really sorry”.
With a small bow, Xavier braced himself, ready to receive the full brunt of anger from the Head of Data Analysis. He shuddered at the thought that this might be reported to Captain Jenna. Instead, Andrew shook his head calmly.
“Don’t worry about it.” He gave an understanding smile, observing your worried expression towards Xavier. “In fact, I do believe this was my bad.”
The abandoned green tea bottles rolled lazily beside the desks, and Andrew picked them up. “I’ll be heading off to my office now, I’ll see you two later.”
Handing the drinks to you and Xavier, you both expressed your thanks. As Andrew left, you turned to Xavier.
“Xavier,” you spoke slowly, “what exactly was that?”
He scratched his head and diverted his eyes from you.
“I saw he was getting too close, and my body moved faster than my head…”
It was hard not to react at how adorably guilty he looked.
What am I going to do with you? You thought, sighing in affectionate amusement.
“I know how it must have looked from afar, but there was just an eyelash on my face that Andrew was trying to point out,” you explained.
Again, you swiped a finger across your face. “I still don’t know where it is though.”
Your movements were halted as Xavier gently grasped your wrist. He leaned in close, examining your face. You felt his light touch against your eyelids as he took off the lash.
“You know, there’s a superstition about this,” he began, handing the lash to you.
“They say if you have a stray eyelash, you can use it to make a wish.”
He cleared his throat, the tips of his ears turning red believing his next words to perhaps sound a little childish.
“So, I wanted to be the one who would give you that wish.”
RAFAYEL ⟡
Rafayel’s jealousy would make itself known to you the moment he felt it. Though he would hide it between clever, teasing remarks, it was cute to see how clingy he got when it happened. And there was no better situation to provoke such feelings than at a gala hosted by Flux Arts. Admittedly, it was difficult to get the artist himself to attend these gatherings that featured one of his own paintings, so Thomas had to devise a convincing reason for him to go. That reason, naturally, being you. If you were his plus one, Rafayel could certainly face any battle.
You stood in front of Rafayel’s painting now as he had left you for the moment to speak with Thomas. Even after being exposed to his work many times (both mid progress and completed) they still managed to instil awe within you.
“Fascinating, isn’t it?”
The voice pulled you back into the room, and you looked over at the stranger beside you. He appeared to be slightly older and was likely a wealthy, enthusiastic patron of the gala.
“Yes, it is,” you agreed. “It’s one of my favourites.”
In truth, you favoured it because you were there when Rafayel painted it. From start to finish, he had you at his side. Though abstract, upon closer inspection, one could extrapolate details of a city with glorious towers and vibrant, thriving coral. It held a special place in your heart.
The man’s eyes were glued to the painting.
“Rafayel truly is an artist you get once in a lifetime.”
You couldn’t help but smile at the sincerity in the gentleman’s compliment.
“It’s hypnotising to witness the scenes he creates,” he continued. “He seems to bare his soul in each painting.”
“He is quite an expressive man,” you commented, breathing a small laugh.
From picking out the perfect outfits to the perfect paint materials, passion infused every part of Rafayel’s life, including in his relationship with you. It was one of his greatest traits you adored about him.
The familiarity in your tone was lost on the man, who believed you to only be an admirer of the artist, and not an admirer of a different sort.
The conversation continued, and you discovered the man to be a professor of history. He had discovered Rafayel through his own interest in ancient civilisations such as Lemuria. You couldn’t help but beam with pride listening to the man speak so highly of Rafayel, and the impression his works had left on him. The man soon took his leave, thanking you for entertaining his enthusiastic ramblings.
You were so engrossed that you didn’t notice Rafayel with his arms folding behind you. He graciously gave you a few seconds to detect his presence. Though, his frown grew as you continued to be, supposedly, too starstruck from your earlier conversation with that stranger.
He cleared his throat loudly.
You spun around at the familiar voice.
“Raf! How long have you been standing there for?”
He shrugged with as much nonchalance as he could muster. However, anyone with two eyes could have guessed the annoyance on his face.
“Enough to hear the last bits of your conversation.” He strode to your side, arms still folded tight across his chest. “Found interesting company so soon after I left?”
You closed the gap between the two of you with a step, preparing to explain the true nature of that conversation. Not letting you interrupt his sulking, Rafayel continued,
“I need to be more wary. There are too many people here wanting to whisk you away from me.”
As soon as you walked into the gallery arm-in-arm, people’s eyes were drawn to the two of you. At his mention that you were the centre of attention, you had dismissed it, saying it was him everyone took interest in.
Tilting your head to the side, you placed your hands your hips, almost as if to say: Are you going to let me speak?
Rafayel quickly conceded, spluttering out his next question, “And why were you being so chummy with that stranger, anyway?”
“That stranger said he was a professor of history specialising in ancient cities, and that he’s been an admirer of your works for a long time,” you answered.
Poking at his cheek with your finger, you attempted to remove his pout that remained affixed on his face.
“I was being chummy because he was complimenting your work! It made me happy to hear that people have such high praise for you and your paintings.”
Rafayel’s pout disappeared.
“It just made me think… how proud I am to have you as my partner,” you smiled. “You leave a profound impression on people.”
Your words resonated in his head. He stood motionless, with only the slow blink of his eyes.
His lack of reaction made you flush.
“Ah, that was pretty cheesy, wasn’t it? I’m sorry–”
The apology stopped short in your throat as you were scooped into a tight hug. Rafayel’s arms wrapped around your waist. A few gala attendees looked over at the young couple with admiring gazes, wondering what could have happened that would cause such open affection.
Rafayel nuzzled his forehead into the curve of your neck, mumbling right by your ear, “Jeez, here I was trying to be jealous…”
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#odorawrites#admittedly i thought the jealousy scenes i would write would be more dramatic/high stakes (?)#but when i started to put words on the page i was drawn to writing scenes set in their normal day-to-day lives!#i thought these were still fun hehe i hope this is an enjoyable read <3#love and deepspace#l&ds#lads#love and deepspace fluff#love and deepspace x reader#l&ds x reader#lads x reader#zayne love and deepspace#xavier love and deepspace#rafayel love and deepspace#zayne x reader#zayne x y/n#zayne x you#xavier x reader#xavier x y/n#xavier x you#rafayel x reader#rafayel x y/n#rafayel x you#l&ds fluff#zayne fluff#xavier fluff#rafayel fluff
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Mads Mikkelsen, Hugh Dancy, and Laurence Fishburne - Hannibal behind the scenes
#hehe <3#hannibal#hannibaledit#mads mikkelsen#hugh dancy#laurence fishburne#hannibal lecter#will graham#hannigram#jack crawford#horroredit#horror#nbc hannibal#hannibal nbc#murder husbands#hannibal cast#hannibal cast gifs
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Portland Oregon, spring 2024
#photographers on tumblr#streetphotography#original photographers#photography#my photography#street photography#landscape#contemporary photography#art#sony#portland#hehe :3
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You are safe. The winds of fate blow you to the warmest of hearths in the most cordial of inns. The touch of the sun comforts your flesh, but never burns it.
my commissions are closed, but you can still look at my prices here!
#i just like to imagine how warm halsin must be. and how nice he must smell ^^#halstarion#modern au#... but theyre still elves hehe. happy little elves#halsin#astarion#bg3#baldur’s gate 3#bloodhoney#bloodbear#my art#ppl are always like 'halstarion makes no sense' but all astarion desires is warmth and safety and who embodies that? exactly
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#girlblogging#girlhood#actually mentally ill#alternative#im just a girl#female hysteria#female manipulator#hell is a teenage girl#this is what makes us girls#tumblr girls#alt girl#funny#meme#funny memes#dank memes#tumblr memes#hehe :3#:33333#:p#femcel#just girly things#not like other girls#pick me girl#gilrblogger#live laugh girlblog#this is a girlblog#haha make me shut up challenge#haha#i hate it here#sadgirl
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can't get much better
pairing: ghost / simon riley x fem reader summary: simon is forced to take some time off - he makes the most of it. tags/warnings: very soft, pregnant sex, size difference, softdom!simon- he's a masculine man who doesn't let his lady lift a finger :'), oral (f), one (1) butthole kiss, dacryphilia, daddy kink (sigh), minor minor foot stuff, allusions to injuries and chronic pain, title from an adrianne lenker song w.c: 2.5k
You try very hard not to think about it, but it's hard not to notice how massive he is.
Even shirtless, he somehow looks bigger, muscles flush with heat and exertion under the sun. He toils and breathes hard like an ox, working while you sit on the porch wrapped in his big flannel. Wearing his clothes is like being swaddled in a blanket straight out of the dryer, warm and nostalgic and syrupy with love. It leaves you feeling some type of tender. You're afraid of that feeling sometimes, of how soft it is and how soft it makes you. He could ask anything of you, and you'd yield like he was pressing his thumb into a bruised peach.
You have.
"How are you two?" Simon is so quiet when he wants to be. One would think he'd clomp like a horse with how big he is, but he can float like dust. It used to startle you, but you've been sinking deeper into the memory foam mattress of this life with him and it doesn't anymore.
"Tired, even though I'm not doing anything," you squint at him through the late afternoon sun. It haloes him like an angel.
"You're growing my baby in there, love. That's not nothing," his voice is rough, it always will be. But it's rough now like earth and soil rather than rough with pain and smoke the way he'd sounded when you met him.
You're feeling especially nostalgic, it seems, not like it's hard here. His hand is warm on your belly.
"I guess so," you let him pet you for a moment. Your stomach is swollen but not as big as it'll get, just enough to veto pants. A few months to go still. "How's your back?"
"Argh," Simon says, taking a heavy seat next to you. Dismissive and yet he groans a little when his muscles unclench. Classic.
You slowly reach up and nudge him until he's facing the field opposite to you, face toward the golden afternoon sun and his back to you. He's never asked you to do this, to take care of him, but it's your favourite thing in the world.
His back is always rock-hard no matter how many times you take your knuckles and fingers to it. Just a condition of a hard life lived for him, countless falls and impacts and pushing through injuries. There's a slight slant to his spine now that isn't there in the pictures he's shown you of his youth, but the stiffness is the same. You might've said he was born to be a soldier, had you not known him as a father. He could do both, but - you'd never say this out loud - you were privately grateful for this injury. It wouldn't take him out forever, but the recovery would be long. Long enough to get the homestead started, to get you pregnant.
Simon would never be completely still. This was compromise. Sweet compromise, a life started and time with him you could think back on the next time he shipped out. Making the most of things, he would always say. Making the time count.
"That feels good, love" he groans. Bending forward slowly, relaxing, he's like an aloof stallion finally accepting an apple from your hand. Acquiescing. Showing you his back. It's trust, and you savour it.
"I bet it does," you tease back, just a little. Your fingers are nimble and attuned to his specific aches and pains. "Are you hungry for dinner?"
"I'm hungry for something," he turns, slowly, hands reaching for your thickened waist. Huge, work-roughened hands. War-roughened hands, holding you like a delicate egg. Sometimes it feels like he's the only thing that holds you together; all your pieces, everywhere, until he's holding you.
Kissing him is a contact sport. It's his hands moving, cupping your breast and then your pussy through your panties, your own hands wrapping around his broad shoulders like he's the only thing keeping you from drowning. It's open-mouthed, breathing into each other. Impossibly, you get softer, melting like ice on a hot day.
Before you can lean back on the bench, he stands and lifts you with him. He's still hot from the day, damp with sweat, pushing you into the house while kissing you still.
"Simon-" you start, with no goal in mind. "Please."
"I've got you, love," he murmurs. He always does. Before you know it, you're laid back onto the plush armchair in your living room. Simon knows this is the most comfortable place for your newly-aching body. Affection swells in your chest uncontrollably and comes out through your eyes leaking down your face. Sure, pregnancy makes people emotional - but you're still embarrassed, touched by how considerate he is.
"It's alright, shh," he thumbs the tears at the corner of your eyes. His cock tents his work pants, aroused by them. "Let me take care of you."
The next words he murmurs are into your cunt, right over your panties, tongue laving over the already-wet fabric. "Just need your daddy, don't you?" You clench in tandem with his words, hot all over, skin prickling. He pushes your dress up, bunching it right under your tits.
It's reminiscent of how you spent the first night with him, on the very first day you'd met. Hurried, his big head between your thighs and clothes hanging off you still while he made you fall apart.
He's fucking good at it, too. Pulls your panties to the side and builds up the pressure with which he sucks on your clit, softly and then harsher until you shake. You've been extra horny lately, always wet around him and always so swollen. The scrape of his five-o-clock shadow against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh is what tips you over, clamping his head tightly and shouting your orgasm into the heady summer air.
"That all it takes?" Simon grins, chin wet, fingers moving from your hips to your pussy to gently rub along your slit.
"Give me a second, please," it's humbling how quickly you come nowadays. Quick and intense. Fireworks.
You set your foot on his shoulder and he turns towards it, kissing your ankle. Patience is rare with him, something come about only since you confirmed your pregnancy. You miss being overwhelmed by him, miss the nights where he'd guide you over the edge one, two, three times in succession.
He pushes now, just a little, not waiting for your go-ahead but watching you intently. His fingers spread your cunt in a V and he puffs a breath on your sensitive clit. You jump. He grins again, leaning down to lick you, using one hand to hold both your legs under your knees and push them until they meet the soft bump of your belly.
"Hold them there," he says. It's spoken not to you, but to your hole, which he spears his tongue into. You obey as you're helpless to do, holding your legs up and giving him an unimpeded view. It's more than vulnerable, it's not only baring yourself to him completely but giving him the authority to do what he wants. What you need.
Simon eats you out like it's a kiss, slurping you down and letting you leak until the evidence of your weakness to him is all over you. Your legs are wet, and it drips down onto your other hole. He pushes a thumb into your cunt, dipping it in and out.
"Needed me, did'ya? Watched me all day," he's so smug, sometimes. His lips find your bare foot, kissing your sole. "Been wet like this all day?" His other hand finds the meat of your asscheek, spreading you open further, letting the split of you open to him. He leans down, kissing your inner thigh, then your other hole. You whine and clench your pussy around his thumb.
"So needy," he murmurs, finally finally moving back to your clit. Flicks his tongue over it, something that might've been teasing before but is intense now. Your hands tighten against your legs, head thrown back.
"Oh please- Simon!" You shout again, abs drawing up, stars in your eyes. "Ahh- I'm-"
"I know, honey," his lips suction again around the hard little pebble of your clit, eating like a man starved.
This is how he likes you. Losing control, coming apart, helplessly vocal against the onslaught of his tongue. No matter how many times you've done this, it never gets old. The release almost always makes you cry, especially intense like this. You're wet all over, face and cunt and legs. He is, too.
"You still with me, love?" He pets your flank like you're a horse.
"Yes," but that's not what he wants.
"Yes what?"
"Yes, daddy."
"Good girl," and fuck if that doesn't always fill you with warm fuzzy energy. Wipes your brain, keeps you soft and floaty.
He guides you up and out of the armchair, lifts you into his arms when your legs shake too much. That electric feeling is still coursing through you, tingles in your extremities as they come back to life.
The hand he strokes over you is half affectionate, half proprietary. You've been his since the first time he laid eyes on you.
He reminds you of it as he sets you down gently on the bed, your hair a halo around your head and hands reaching to his face where you pull him down for a kiss. Hands find his shirt, pulling it off you, and then the dress. Fingertips touch the headboard, your arms stretching up, making room for him. Slips your panties down your legs.
It's a lingering, indulgent kiss. Breathing each others air, gasping into his mouth, he puts his elbows by your head and lays as much weight down as he can without cramping your full belly. He's as vocal as you, groaning and rutting like a dog.
"Ready for me, sweet girl?" He leans out of the kiss, sitting back on his heels. You nod, desperate and pulsing between the legs again like you didn't just come twice.
"Daddy's gonna take care of you, don't you worry," he rearranges you like a doll, turning you to your side and getting between your legs. A pillow is tucked under your belly, and he tests your flexibility by holding your leg tight to the length of his body. Your hamstring burns a little with it.
A hand holds your knee, another to your waist. His jeans scrape against your sensitive skin.
You focus on little details. His scar, touching his eyebrow and splitting through his nose, ending down by his jaw. The knuckles on his fingers holding your knee, and how rough the pads of his fingers feel on your waist. This man has never had soft hands in his life. Those same hands capable of so much force, so much violence, the very same that hold you and guide you. A shepherd, you his lamb.
The weeping head of his cock kisses your hole, catching there and traveling up. He taps it against your clit until you're tensing, whining, needy again. Tears down your cheeks.
He steadies you, pets your waist, guides his cock inside and it feels like you can breathe again. His mouth laves hot kisses over your ankle, the sole of your foot again, reverent and controlling all at once. The stretch burns - it always does, and maybe always will. Simon is just so big, thick all around and the mushroom head of him could always bump your cervix if he's not careful.
He's careful now, but only just. You can sense his control fraying, his hips driving forward steadily but his thighs tensing and his grip getting meaner. This is your favourite part. Watching him sweat, breathe hard, taking his pleasure in you.
"Yeah-" he cuts himself off with a long, drawn out groan. Deep, from the bottom of his belly and out. "Already so full of me, aren't ya? Can't get full enough."
You plead with your sounds, words out of your grasp. Your hands clutch at the sheets but it isn't enough. He's solid, he's your anchor, but he's losing himself in your cunt and you're free falling.
"Play with your tits for me," he commands, pumping faster. You're reflexively tightening around him, clit jumping for attention, squeaking each time he lets himself in as deep as possible and touches the mouth of your cervix.
Sunlight slowly fades on the bed, the last golden rays escaping out the window as you're bathed in dusk.
There's nothing to do but obey, hands finding your swollen breasts and squeezing. They've been sore and huge, like that week before you get your period only it's been a couple months. None of your bras fit anymore.
Simon appreciates it, he loves it. Has you cooking for him with your tits out, nipples peaked and pussy leaking. They bounce, now, stopped only by your hands pinching and twisting. It's insane - no one in the world could replicate the feeling. No artist, no musician. Electricity zips from your breasts down to your clit and shit - you might come just like this, untouched, just full of your man and fondling yourself.
"Fuck, I can feel you squeezing me. Fucking," he pants, leaning over you, bending your leg. "Pinching my dick, sweetheart. Your pussy's so fucking good."
The orgasm begins in your toes, tingling. Your muscles tighten, drawing up, up, towards your cunt, which is making obscene sounds around him.
Simon sees the signs, sees your eyes rolling and your body going taut. He abandons your leg in favour of rubbing your clit with two big fingers quickly, up and down.
"That's it, sweetheart, come all over my cock. Go on," his voice is a snarl, barely distinguishable as human, beastly. "Be good for daddy.”
It's like the crescendo of an orchestra, like a summer afternoon in august, like waking up without a clogged nose after being sick, it's - really fucking good. You're near sobbing, crying out his name, abandoning your tits to reach for him desperately. He meets you halfway, shuddering his own orgasm into you. The press of his hips against yours is better than buttered toast, the delicate press of his chest against yours as he lets your leg go is bliss.
"Si-imon," you slur, hands on his cheeks. He laughs and kisses your forehead.
"What's that, sweet girl?"
"I love you," you cry a little more then, feeling him pull out and lay next to you. You're boneless.
"I love you too," his arm reaches across you, pulling you into him. "Both of you." Hand on your belly again.
"That was insane," you pant. He barks a laugh against your hair. "I'm serious."
"I know you are, love," he kisses your forehead, petting your stomach. You can tell it's meaning, can feel the gratefulness behind the kiss. He's saying thank you, for staying with him, for making him a father. Your hand finds his, squeezing back a wordless reply. Of course, it says.
<3
#or> local citygirl listens to too much adrianne lenker and imagines simon getting you pregnant and living on a farm <3#he's definitely ooc i have a hard time writing men#BUT this is writing practice so whateva#cod x reader#cod mw2#task force 141#141 x reader#drgnfly writes#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon riley imagine#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#im so bad at ending things lol#mdni#18+ mdni#simon riley cod#reader x simon riley#idk#hehe#i found the images on pinterest btw
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Gale sketches for my next render, I might try a new paint style and will definitely add more details later.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about Gale as a necromancer, who's body is rotting from the orb and only keeping his appearance up with the Weave. My inspo is from the Sandman comics, @/GarnetDawn's rendition of Gale's arcane hunger, and Eternals from Divinity.
#yes ofc more dark!Gale AU hehe#gale bg3#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#bg3 gale#baldur's gate 3#bg3#my art#wip
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the rude blacksmith has enchanted me. also feeling so normal about this game that i did pixel art for the first time ever to try and draw my farmer in the game style
#fields of mistria#fom#fom farmer#march fom#fom march#march fields of mistria#fields of mistria fanart#IT WAS SO FUN TRYING TO MIMIC THE CHARACTER STYLE#ive been following fom development since JANUARY 2022#i signed up for email updates guys#im so happy its in ea now hehe#dev team ily its so fun im eagerly awaiting full release#im quite in love with literally all the romance candidates but im so obsessed with annoying march#that i dont think i can kid myself on who my first route is gonna be LOL#gives me an excuse to replay the game a bunch once its out :3#itseart
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