#and I’m a fucking artist. i can’t draw how I want to because my hands don’t stop shaking

[pissfizz]

I’ve never really considered my tremors a disability but holy shit it is isn’t it

[n30n-l1ghts]

Okay, I need to rant. Fuck AI. And I mean seriously. FUCK. A.I. I know I’m probably preaching to the choir here, but more people need to be talking about this, and there’s no point in me saying that if I’m not willing to talk about it too. AI has done nothing but ruin our communities and defile the art that millions of hands have spent millions of hours creating. Fanfiction is a work of passion. Drawing is a work of passion. Voice acting IS A WORK OF PASSION. AI has no passion. It takes the soul out of the things we love and cherish. It steals what we as a collective community have lovingly crafted, and it shatters it to a thousand pieces, spits on it, curses its family, and throws it in a flaming dumpster to be eaten by rats. It is despicable and disgusting.

I won't lie, or pretend I’m a perfect saint. I myself was a user of Character AI until somewhat recently. And as ashamed as I am to admit that, I feel it’s necessary to own up to my own faults. But after seeing the damage it causes, I can’t in good conscience even consider touching that site. Many of us write because it is our passion. Many of us because it is our job. And many of us because it is our *friend*. AI steals the writing of your favorite creators WITHOUT PERMISSION and mashes it together like Frankenstein’s fucked up monster to create storylines that aren’t even fucking coherent. Not only that, but Character AI uses whatever you respond to it with to teach itself as well, which means that the company has access to whatever you chat about, and free reign to do whatever they want with it. They also make absurd amounts of money from it, which in comparison, fanfiction writers, who spend countless hours writing stories for our favorite characters, more often than not charge nothing. And the ones who do charge, tend to have reasonable, if not highly lenient prices for their labor.

Which leads me into another side rant. SUPPORT WRITERS THAT YOU LIKE. It’s really not that hard, it takes two fucking seconds of your time and it makes someone's day. Reblog. Share with your friends. Like. Comment. Just let the writer know that you saw it, and that you liked it. The amount of fanfic writers I have seen get completely discouraged from writing because of lack of engagement is astounding. I’ve seen several posts on Tumblr or Twitter or Bluesky talking about creators that were incredibly popular but never knew it due to lack of engagement is appalling. If you can rant about your love for their work on Discord, you can rant about your love for their work in the comments. Just fucking copy paste it. Tell them how much you love it. Show them support. Especially the ones that don’t charge. Because for those of us that don’t, our only payment, is your feedback. Even constructive criticism is greatly appreciated by damn near every writer I can think of. Because even that shows that you read it, absorbed it, and thought about it enough to have something to actually say about it.

The same thing goes for artists and voice actors. You see a drawing or animation you enjoy? Comment. Like. Share. You see a character in an anime or a game and you love their voice? Go check out their voice actor, maybe they do some other cool stuff, and you might just discover your new favorite series or streamer. A perfect example is Alejandro Saab. I became a fan of his through his astounding performance in several series dear to me, and lo and behold, he’s also a streamer I enjoy. Same story with Aleks Le, or Ray Chase. Yuri Lowenthal, Lizzie Freeman, Landon Mcdonald, Zeno Robinson, the list goes on. But seriously, it’s not that much effort to just show a little love to the creators you enjoy. The people who breathe life into the series’ that we all hold dear. AI does not breathe that life. Using AI, and supporting those companies, will destroy those pillars of our community. And if that happens, the AI would crumble too, it would have no new information to use. SO really, what’s the benefit? I’ll tell you. There is none.

Stop using AI. All it does is bring harm and slowly kill our community. It’s disgusting, appalling, and downright fucking egregious.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk.

[sillysowa]

RUNWAY MODEL

PAIRING: hobie brown x fem!reader

GENRE: suggestive, smut

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

WARNINGS: smut, vaginal fingering, choking (fem! and male receiving), vaginal sex, both hobie and reader are switches

AUTHORS NOTE: not proofread cause i’m so tired i can feel my eyes melting

SYNOPSIS: in which hobie brown is a model, and you are his favorite designer

—

Hobie walked into your studio nonchalantly with no apparent purpose, like usual. The day had been long and he was tired of bending around for the photographers, wanting to visit his favorite designer. He sat his tall figure in the chair across from you, kicking his legs up on the desk because he knows it doesn’t bother you,

“Oh, Hobie…you’re still here?” You mumbled drowsily, exhaustion present in your hoarse voice. It’s late and you probably shouldn’t still be here at the studio, but you’re so caught up in your work. Hobie leans forward slightly, catching glimpse at the scribble artistic designs that he can tell after for him,

“Mhm,” Hobie hums, “You never tire of this work do you?” He chuckles, leaning back and tossing around a pen of yours, “Y’alright? Must be tired.” He asks in that deep voice of his,

You sigh, “Of course…just…gotta get this right.” You scribble around on the paper,

Hobie’s interest is piqued at this and he eyes the sketch pad, “You know I’ll wear whatever you come up with.” He leans back in the chair, still studying the work in progress, “Don’t have to do such hard work f’me.”

“I know…that’s what makes it so complex…I mean there’s so many different things I can see you in! Like…this maybe?” You ramble, flipping around your sketch pad to show him the punk rock outfit you had crafted for him. It’s skimpy to say the least, exposing his abs, most of his legs, and the pants hang low, exposing that pretty V-line of his that you’ve seen with watchful eyes as he gets his pictures taken for especially seductive shoots.

Hobie studies the artworks with squinty eyes, a smirk spreading across his face,

“I like that one…” He smiles knowingly, bringing his feet off the desk to support his head in his hands with his elbows on his knees. He glances up at the design again, and then back at you,

“You always do these designs f’me, hm? Am I your favorite model?” He teases, smirking a little like he knows a secret.

You smile and lean back, chewing the inside of your cheek for a moment in contemplation, “I mean you’re honestly probably my favorite out of all the models I’ve worked with.“ You say bluntly, wanting to only slightly allude to how deep your desire for Hobie is. Clearly, it’s written all over your face. You notice his stare as he obviously tries not to smile,

“Wanna expand on that? You look a little…flustered.” His voice drops low, his flickering down to your lips and even lower for a moment.

“I’m not. You’re a stunning model, Hobie.” You smile, continuing your work. Your face is burning hot and you can’t look at him because all you’re thinking about is how how badly you want him to bend you over the table with his long fingers around your neck. He suddenly changes the topic,

“D’you think I could do a gig solely on m’hands?” He asks like he knows the answer, “I think you’re someone who can appreciate their beauty, hm? With your drawings n’all?” He smirks teasingly and you feel your heart drop into your stomach,

“What?”

“Well you’ve drawn my hands about a hundred times…I’ve seen it. Can’t even keep your eye off of em when we talk.” He replies, leaning in and shortening the distance between the two of you between the table. Clearly, he had been through your sketchbook—your stomach churned at the thought,

“And how would you know that?” You whisper, flustered at the idea of of being caught in a sense but so fucking up for this challenge that he’s offering—there’s nothing to be ashamed of now that he obviously knows you have a severe hand kink. He keeps smiling at you as if he was entertained by all this,

“Doesn’t matter. What does the bough is that you must take a hefty liking to my fingers, right?” He says, flexing them again across the table, stretched out to their full length. You don’t even give in to your desire, eyes locked on the way his middle and ring finger press together suggestively a d make your face feel hot.

You bite your lip, tearing your eyes away as you flip the pages on your sketchbook to change the subject,

“A-Anyways, I’ve also got this design you could try…”

Hobie just smiles and leans back, deciding to let it go for now and toy with you later. He looks at the papers for a while before he speaks up,

“You’ve done a great job.” Hobie says in awe, gesturing to the designs with a nod of his head and that signiature sly smile, “I like ‘em.” Hobie’s tone switches to his playful-work-voice of his now, and he reaches his hands out, gripping the edge of the desk as he stands,

“So, Y/N,” Hobie starts looking down on you. “Got any of these ready for me to try on?” He asks, leaning down to your eye level.

You squirm a little in your seat, your thighs clenching together. He always gets you so riled up you’ve never had this kind of one on one time together. You often just catch glimpse of him during his shoots,

“Yeah…I actually have one of them here if you really want to try it out early,” You say excitedly, walking to the clothing rack and plucking it off. Its gorgeous, grungy, and incredibly revealing. The other designers love to see Hobie in multiple layers and a lot of baggy clothing, but when you got lucky enough to catch the photographers bending Hobie around in nothing but tight boxers for his Calvin Klein shoot—you nearly died, “It’s a little skimpy.”

“Oh yeah? Just f’me?” Hobie chuckles, walking up behind you in the dimly lit room and brushing his hand onto of yours to grab the clothing hanger. He looks at you with his head over your shoulder, awfully close,

“If you wanted to see me naked could’ve just asked” Hobie teases, whispering in your ear before turning away from you. To your utmost horror and delight, he starts stripping right then and there,

“Oh my god you slut, right infront of me?” You gasp, turning around letting out a quick laugh in disbelief. Your face feels hot after catching the sight of his jeans catching on his dick as he pulled them down, looking at you out of the corner of his eye,

A snicker comes from Hobie as he gets undressed in a fashion comparable to a strip-tease,

“Oh come on doll, it’s not like you haven’t seen me at work with even less on. I don’t mind you watching.” He pry’s, his voice taunting and inviting like a sweet honey. You think of your job. You think about how you thought you were alone only 10 minutes ago before Hobie strolled in. It’s beyond after hours, and it’s just the two of you—quite literally a recipe for disaster. Hobie finished getting dressed, standing up straight in the designer outfit,

“Alright, alright, it’s safe you prude. Come get a look at your creation.” Hobie holds his arms out, flipping them and getting a look at it all himself before smiling at you. You turn and look at him and instantly your eyes as they widen,

“Oh…my…god…” You gasp, “You look so good!” Excitement covers your to face as you walk up to him, inspecting how everything fits. You marvel in the way his toned chest looks on display and his nipple piercings under the sheer top. The studded jewelry and leather accessories add so much to the look but most of all…his hands in those fingerless gloves are to die for. You inspect them closely, pulling them towards you as you dreamily stare at his long fingers, toying with them in your hands,

Hobie smiles in the silence of your admiration, “Y’know it’s kinda funny...” He murmurs. His left hand gently holds onto yours, lacing your fingers with his. His other hand grazes your side,

You freeze and look up at him—instantly, your stomach drops at his gaze, “What’s funny?”

“You clearly got a hand kink or something…or is it just mine, hm? Got a thing for me, miss designer?” He teases, gently pulling you close with his knee in between your legs. Your heart beats in your chest like a drum and your toes curl in your shoes. You lick your lips, melting at the proximity,

“Well it looks like you’ve got me all figured out huh?” You whisper as your skin warms under his touch, his hands feeling like fire on your skin. You shouldn’t be doing this…but it feels too good to stop,

“Yeah?” He pulls you up in an embrace, nuzzling into the crook of your neck with his hot breath on your sensitive skin. His left hand grips your hair as he whispers into your ear,

“Say it.” Hobie enunciates every syllable, his lips hovering over the sensitive skin of your ear. You press your body against him and all logical reasoning leaves your mind,

“I want you.” You groan into his ear, balling your fists around his mesh shirt. Hobie grins, and his voice is low and husky when he whispers,

“I know you do. I want you too, dollface.” He wraps his arm around you fully, one hand still in your hair, and the other around your back. He stares straight ahead, his knee edging further up between your legs as he whispers,

“Let me show you…” He whispers into your ear, biting it gently and leaning down to kiss your neck. Your mind melts and you nearly collapse against him—it’s an all numbing feeling to have model lips like Hobie’s on your neck and his tall stature holding you so close,

You moan softly and dig your fingers into his clothes at the feeling, his lips on your neck make you feel so good inside. His large thigh slides up and now your skirt is pushing and your warm pussy is on his thigh. It’s lewd and oh so embarrassing until he groans, his voice all needy and horny, right in your ear,

“Oh, fuck…you’re already so wet? I’ve barely touched you, love.” He coo’s clicking his tongue, slipping his hands under the back of your shirt and undoing your bra in a swift, skilled motion. He toys with the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head. After getting you topless, his hands are palming your breasts wasting absolutely no time. You throw your head back and shamelessly whine at the feeling—the feeling being indescribable desire,

“God I just knew those—ah! Mmm-knew those hands would feel so good.” Your breath hitches in your throat as you mewl, his fingers pinching your nipples while you’re mid sentence. He laughs darkly at you, leaning down and taking one of your nipples into his mouth, squirming his tongue around the small bud,

“Mmm…” He hums around your skin, his eyes rolling into the back of his head for your viewing pleasure—and oh does it do things to you. Your desperate moans echo in the empty studio, the low lighting reflecting off of Hobie’s dark eyes driving you crazy,

One of his hands grabs your chin, and he stands up straight again, lifting your face up so that he could look into your eyes, “Keep making those pretty noises, gorgeous…” He murmurs, his eyes on yours flickering down to your lips.

You so badly want to kiss him that you can’t even wait for him, pulling him the collar of his shirt and meshing your lips against his in a matter of seconds, capturing his lips in a moral-melting kiss. You knew if anyone saw you two—colleagues—grinding and kissing in the studio late at night, you’d both lose your jobs on the spot; but there was no stopping now. His lips were like magic on yours. You felt your heart rate pickup the moment his hands met your thighs and he picked you up, walking you to the desk and never once breaking away from the desperate needy kiss you were sharing. When it starts to get to your head and you feel a need for air, you break away from the kiss, panting and looking into his lust blown eyes,

“Fuck me on that desk…right now.”

Hobie is shocked for a quick moment before a grin spreads across his face. He wastes no time in laying you onto the desk and kissing his way down your stomach, his fingers toying with the top of your skirt,

“What do you say I put these long fingers of mine to use, hm?” Hobie’s whispers, his voice raspy and sending need straight to your aching pussy.

“You better…” You thrust your hips up as he removes your skirt, his fingers grazing your thighs before he spits onto them, shoving two right into your tight pussy,

“Not so sure i’m the model anymore—fucking look at you…” Hobie groans, kissing your thighs as he slowly thrusts his fingers into you. His pace is agonizing, and you grab him by his wrist,

“Please…just shut up and fuck me…I’ve seen how big it is and I can’t wait any longer…” You grunt and Hobie’s eyes widen more than you’ve ever seen. It’s his turn to look flustered and the feeling of being spoken to in such a dirty manner is enough to make his dick twitch in his pants,

“How can I deny such an offer?” He laughs breathlessly, standing up and unbuckling his spikey belt, pulling everything down and letting his cock spring free. It’s long, and thick, and there’s precum leaking from his tip like the glaze on your favorite dessert. He feels his face heat up at your hungry stare, leaning down and cupping his hands in the bend of your legs, pushing them down at your sides and spreading your legs wide open for him,

“Please—“

“Yeah I know…” Hobie groans, smearing his pre-cum across your pussy and gently thrusting into you. It takes your breath away and shakes the desk, your mouth hanging open as a guttural moan tumbles out of your mouth,

Hobie groans and kisses your neck, “You’re so fucking tight.” Hobie whispers, his voice shaking. He groans and slams his hips into yours, his hands gripping your hips as he desperately fucks into you. Never in your entire life had you felt something so big inside of you—so filling and so fucking good. Of course a model as gorgeous as Hobie has such a perfect dick—but this position isn’t doing it for you.

You sit up, your hands on his chest as you push him down onto the desk and crawl on top. Hobie looks pleasantly surprised at this, his hands coming up to your hips,

“Fuck…” He whines, his head thrown back and his adams apple bobbing in his neck. You sink down on his length, grunting so loud you’d think it’s injuring you as your hand comes to Hobie’s neck. You give him a gentle squeeze and he nods at you, his eyelashes fluttering as he slaps your ass,

“C’mon.”

You ride him like your life depends on it, your hands tight around his neck and his clothes. The studio echoes with both of your moans and you feel your head spinning as his cock melts your insides, the sensation eliciting desperate moans out of you.

Hobie feels lightheaded and delirious with your hand around his neck and your pussy squeezing him so good, broken moans, grunts, and whimpers leaving his lips. The messy sounds fill the dark room and you can barely hold on any longer,

“Give it to me—please…”

You squeeze his neck just right and his hand comes up to yours as you ride him, your pussy clenching and your orgasm nearing. Now both of you are gripping each others necks, grunting and panting and falling apart so beautifully,

“I’m gonna—“ Hobie starts but he doesn’t finish…well he does. He cums deep inside you as you continue to ride him through it all, making a sloppy mess and coating his dick and thighs in cum. His head falls back against the hard wood and you ride his soul out until you cum. When you do, you’re shaking and moaning loudly, your hands moving from his neck to his shoulders to support yourself as you nearly pass out, pulling too hard on the mesh shirt and tearing it down his chest,

Hobie’s breathing is slow yet heavy as he tries to get a grip on reality now. His hands are still holding your hips and his brain still feels like jell-o, but he’s slowly coming to his senses,

“Y’look so good fucked out like this.” He mumbles, smoothing his thumbs over your bare skin,

“You think I’m the one who’s fucked out?” You giggle as you look Hobie over. His makeup is smudged, his clothes torn, and his eyebrows are as furrowed as they were when he came. He looks perfect, because how could he look anything but? He’s a model…and he’s your art no matter what,

“Wait stay right there…” You smile, walking behind him to your desk drawers and getting your camera, coming back around to his front. Hobie rolls his eyes and laughs incredulously at you, holding his pose with his elbows behind him, his lips parted and his eyebrows pinched, and his cock on full display still pumping its cum. You snap the picture and instantly swear to yourself that this would not be the last time you fuck Hobie.

—

@ohxx @luxxtuxx @fatenpara @hobesbf @defnot-bri

[sugudoe]

⋆ ˚ ཐིiཋྀ ˚ ⋆ 𝗟𝗘𝗧 𝗠𝗘 𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝗬𝗢𝗨 ── ✎ ₊· 𝗷𝗷𝗸

✶ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: in desperate need of a skin, you, a talented beginner tattoo artist, decides to test your partner and his love for you in a comical way — “ can i tattoo you ? ’’

✶ 𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i’ve been drawing for a couple of days now, and this is inspired by my sibling ( a tattoo artist ) and their influence on me, cause i too wish i could tattoo myself whenever i’m bored. ALSO i know we all see geto as tough but i had to!! and nanami surprised even me but the vision is visioning, you can not deny. I KNOW you can’t do many tattoos in one setting but please it’s just for plot. divider by: @cafekitsune

✶ 𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬: fluff / crackfic / smau with writing / reader has no gender / english is not my first language / there is mistakes because the app beat my ass sowwy / mentions of needles and pain / foul language / suggestive theme and horny police for nanami

✶ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: gojo ﾉ geto ﾉ nanami

──── ✎ ° ⋆ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

Satoru is sitting in your chair, ankles fully on display for you, but you’re actually occupied with keeping everything sanitized in the makeshift space of your boyfriend’s spacious room. He is laughing and acting tough until he hears the buzz of the machine, then he stops and gulps.

“Shit, sweets. Don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

“It’s too late.” You answer with a devilish smirk, before laughing and putting the pen down. “It’s okay if you don’t want anymore, no pressure.”

Maybe it’s the combo of your puppy eyes with small pout, but Gojo falls for your antics and let you have your way in his skin, it’s takes just a few minutes before you end the drawing of the little ants crawling his ankles. He, obviously, has the limitless off, and that scares him a bit — to feel pain, see dots of his blood. But when he looks at your concentrated face, pain dissolves, and he is happy to have something permanently his made by you, his only love.

By the end, though, he grins at you and asks for another one, bigger, blue! And you make the design and ink him again, before realizing you did not gave him the Suguru cat, but you fall for his dragon. Bitch.

──── ✎ ° ⋆ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

Geto can see black dots in his vision when he lays belly down on the bed. He is a tough guy, been through stuff you have only an ideia about. You could guess by the minimal details and the fucking huge scar on his chest, he has been deeply cut by something. Still, he is scared of the needle you are holding.

But here he is, presenting his blank large and sexy back to you, making you rethink of doing another thing instead of the tattoo, but you have your opportunity and need to grab it.

“My love, are you ready?” You voice has the buzzing sound of the machine in the background, Suguru groans at that.

“Please, beat me to sleep.” It’s all he says before you touch his face. Before you can say anything, he talks again. “I’m fine, I think. I trust you a lot, baby.”

Suguru soon learns how soft and weightless your hand feels, because although something is burning in his back, he thinks is just you rubbing alcohol — that is until he wonders why are you rubbing alcohol for twenty straight minutes now, and then he shifts his face a bit to stare at you. He almost passed out again when he realized the tattoo is already in progress, but he is fine, and simply goes back to his original head position, before deciding to sleep.

Suguru wakes up hours later with this intricate tattoo on his upper back, he smiles and flexes his muscles on the mirror before staring at you, seeing you googling him. Yeah, if you keep looking at him like that and your hands feeling like feather, he may enjoy this whole thing — he does! By the end of the year, his whole torso is designed by you.

──── ✎ ° ⋆ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

Nanami presented you what could be called a slideshow of tattoos he would like to have. Basically he made a pinterest board and added you to put the tattoos you would think he look nice with (basically all you’ve seen).

By saturday, he is wearing a white shirt, showcasing his big arm’s muscles, you get occupied with a little thing before you even start to prepare the living room. Now, he has no shirt anymore.

“So, what did you choose for me, love?” His soothing voice asks you, he is sitting by your dinner table and you smile at him, showing your tablet with the many arts you made based on what both he and you liked.

“Now you pick one and we start.”

“Can I have all of them?” Oh.. “I like the art, you are so talented, love. Let me be your canvas, do what you want.” Yeah, you get occupied again in the day.

It’s nighttime when you crack your bones and look at both of your boyfriend’s arm, all inked up. He stares at you normally, no pain, no heavy breathing. He really was a punk in high school.

“So, since we already did all 12, can we finish the chest as well? I think legs would be nice too, or neck… I can have neck tattoos now!” Nanami says with a energetic voice when both of you are eating pasta later.

“Damn baby, you are getting addicted.” You sit on his lap, eyes focused on the ink all over him. “Yeah, we can do all that.”

[daddyhimeros]

Wayyy too shy to actually DM and damn this might be my autism talking but I wanna get a step by step guide of how you'd finger me and use my vibrator to tease and edge and deny me just to let me cum with a mind blowing orgasm that'll leave me unable to walk, speak or even think whenever you had your fill of playing with me

I got you fam

Now I’d have to tie you up because I’m an artist at what I do and I can’t have you interrupting me because of silly things like “I’m overstimulated”

Once I’ve spread those pretty little legs of yours and tied down your ankles to the bed posts I’d sit down next to you admiring your cunt but I’m not touching it just yet. You have to wait and be patient.

I take my long slender fingers and start tracing along your hip bones. Waking up all of the nerves in your lower body. Sliding them up your inner thigh until I’m almost at your pussy but stopping short. Feeling you l tensing up with anticipation of a touch that doesn’t arrive.

But enough teasing it’s time you feel my touch. I slip a finger between your lips down there and slide it through up to your clit feeling how wet you are. Unsurprisingly it’s already soaked even though I haven’t even touched it yet.

I moisten my fingers slightly with your wetness and begin tracing the lightest circles around your clit. Barely any pressure but you’re so brimming with eagerness to be touched your heart rate already begins to spike and your breathing gets heavier.

As I tease your clit with one hand my other starts exploring your cunt with just my index finger. Slowly slipping it inside and out feeling you tense up and then start to relax. All very rhythmic and smooth as you feel the pleasure starts to build.

I tease at your hole with two fingers now and then slip them both inside. Starting to curl them now and play around with your g-spot on the walls of your cunt. Softly dragging my fingertips inside you every time they slip in and out.

I position my body between your legs and get down low pressing my toungue against your pussy and giving it a long deep luxurious lick. Getting a first taste of you while continuing to slip my fingers into you under my chin.

You’re delicious and I can’t help but kiss and make out with your clit like it’s your lips. Pressing my soft lips around it and swirling it with my tongue. You strain against the restraints and try to buck your hips in pleasure but there is no escaping me.

My kisses deepen and my finger press deeper and slightly faster into you. Building you towards your first orgasm. There it is. I feel your body tense and you moan as I keep enjoying your taste.

Most would be satisfied with this but not me. I increase the intensity after the first. Now you are really fighting against the ropes. Not sure if you want to press your hips deeper into my face or pull away because it’s too much. I draw a second orgasm out of you as you are moaning loudly.

I sit up in the bed now and posture my body up into a dominant position over your poor helpless body. I press my hand down against your womb so that your g-spot presses harder into my finger tips inside you. I fuck you with my fingers more aggressively now but still in an incredibly rhythmic motion. With each press into your g-spot with my long fingers you feel something bigger building inside of you that you haven’t felt yet.

With one final thrust with my fingers I tip you over the edge and your body jerks uncontrollably as you give me a few little squirts into my palm. Grasping your breast playfully and kissing you on your lips I speak into your mouth mid kiss “I’ve never seen you do that before 😏”

You breath heavily but there is a sense of relief that you can finally catch your breath. But that’s broken up by me slipping a blindfold over your eyes. “One final surprise” I say. You feel something large slip inside your soaked and exhausted cunt. A brand new dildo for you. Followed by the electric click and hum of a wand vibrator. I press the wand against your clit causing and electric feeling through your body as I start to slip the toy in and out of your helpless body.

Building faster and faster as the stimulation is overwhelming. You have never feel so much pleasure in your life and you don’t even know how to handle it. Your body starts shaking uncontrollably as you cum for me one more time. Seeing how sexually defeated you are I finally remove the toys and cuddle up along side your still restrained body holding you tight and feeling the orgasm contribute to roll through your trembling body for the next ten mins.

[normal-nightmare]

It's me again and please keep yapping this is the tasty content I come here for. lol I've been sitting here a while (longer than is polite) trying to form a proper response to my previous ask cause it was literally everything! I wish I could be half as eloquent instead of just yelling XD

like there are so many things that draw me to these two, and ngl it definitely started with the whole pseudo-incest vibe but they really are so complex and you really hit the nail with this:

Just... they're so complicated and it sucks that people don't wanna explore that because of the preconceived notion that they're brothers, nothing more, nothing less. Sure, legally they are, but they don't... act like it? They didn't grow up together, they weren't very close before Jason died, and they only recently started getting properly close. Jason also has his crush thing going on (seriously, how else am I supposed to interpret RHATO v2 annual 1??)

Look I will forever maintain Dick was Jason’s gay awakening and that boy has been in love with Dick since he was what 12? 15? Also the way you described their relationship to each other was so delicious and alterous is such a great term for them.

I feel like jaydick becoming canon one day would be a natural progression of their relationship. Especially since they seem to be getting paired up as a duo more often. Readers love them, comic artists and writers like them too- i feel like jaydick actually happening one day wouldn't be extremely surprising.

THISTHISTHIS!!! I hope this does happen.🙏

Also re: dickbabs and not making certain characters bisexual I feel that on such a spiritual level. Like I’m sorry but both Jason and Dick read as queer to me? Idk how to describe it. Which is why I love the little touch of bi Dick in Gotham Knights.

Also speaking of Gotham Knights, I finally finished it and holy fuck what the fuck? One of my few complaints is that I wish it was longer. I need GK2: electric boogaloo but this time with a Poison Ivy case file because reasons. I adored every interaction Dick and Jason had, from the emails to the flirting in front of everyone’s salad, plus how they were almost always near each other? (also Jason looked so good in that post credit scene in the Batcave I choose to believe every time he wears it, Dick can’t keep his hands to himself 🫣)

ALSO

I genuinely feel like the writers were intending for jaydick to happen in a DLC given how much setup there is.

I would love to hear your thoughts on this? I want to yell about this game so much. I wish I had someone to play co-op with me so I could see some of those Jaydick interactions too 😞

GOD honestly i have a million thoughts on Dick and Jason's relationship in Gotham Knights?? Because what the HELL is going on in that game!!!

It utterly BAFFLES me when other people read their interactions (Belfry, cutscenes, whatever) as brotherly/familial bc like... if you're interacting with your family like that I'm so concerned?? Bc they're gay as hell!! They flirt the ENTIRE GAME. Like... it's ridiculous how in-your-face they are about it. It's not even gay subtext anymore, it's just... text. Saying they're not gay in Gotham Knights is like saying Jayce and Viktor were 'just brothers' in Arcane to me LMFAO.

Like... the rooftop scene for one reads as really BAD flirting on Dicks part. It doesn't feel like he's being deliberately silly to cheer up Jason until he fakes falling over the edge, THEN he's properly silly. The entire scene otherwise, he's just... being really bad at flirting? And it's funnier that both that and then him being silly actually kinda WORKS on Jason. He laughs (laughs!!), relents and let's Dick sit next to him! It's so, so cute!!

And then the little interaction where Dick says that the Belfry needs a cat, and then Jason suddenly flirts with him?? Like the line "Listen, Grayson, if you're scared of some mouse you saw scurrying, I'll keep you safe." Is ABSOLUTELY flirting, and this is only supported by A) the tone Jason has and B) the way Dick stutters and stumbles over his words afterwards. Like, Dick is AUDIBLY flustered and surprised by this. He tries sooo hard to keep it cool but that boys BLUSHING.

And then there's the tension in some scenes?? When they argue in the beginning and when Dick puts a hand on Jason's wrist (after Jason jokes about making Tim a fake ID), and kind of the scene where Jasons mad, and he's sparring with Dick and Dick catches his fist and says "Easy, Tiger." Like.... the tension in these scenes goes crazy?? The physical closeness, the eye contact, the brief silence, calling Jason tiger?? Like I CANNOT be crazy thinking that there's at least a LITTLE sexual tension in these moments. Juuuust a little 🤏

And like! Yeah you're 100% on them being so physically close most of the game. It's hard to find scenes where they AREN'T standing right by each other. And their stories focus a lot on each other!! At least Dicks story focuses a lot on Jason! Like... a LOT, it's 90% Dicks story 😭

And the like,, nicknames. Dick calls Jason things like Big Guy, swole, and Miracules throughout the game, like, consistently. He points out Jason's size and strength a lot?? (His size and strength kink is so blatantly obvious, good lord this man is horny LMAO. I don't blame him though... 👀) and then Jason mainly calls him Grayson, but when he's being vulnerable he calls him Dick? Which is so cute?!

And a cute little detail is how angry Dick gets on Jason's behalf when Talia says they should be grateful she brought Jason back even though she took away his autonomy and used him. Like, Dick is PISSED! Lowkey he's so ready to throw hands right there.

And i think one of my favorite interactions is when Dick chooses to take Jason to a circus that's in town. Like! He's literally asking Jason out on a DATE. And it's the cutest thing ever?! Jason is surprised and it's just... it's so sweet.

And in general they have the sweetest interactions and emails. It's adorable how they kinda talk about Tim like they're proud parents, and it's also cute how they kinda bicker over the perfect sandwiches cause they sound like a married couple loll.

Just!! Auuggghhhh they're so CUTE in Gotham Knights! There's a mountain of setup there for a romantic relationship. It's very in your face, and honestly impossible to ignore if you have ears and eyes. I'm sure there's more i'm missing or just haven't mentioned, but it's so blatant it feels like it couldn't have been on accident.

Just... it's so cute, I'll never get over it 😭

[cripple-woe]

Funny thing about being fat is that everything gets expensive (Small cry for help is at the end if you wanna skip the sob story).

My friend and I are both saving up for a wheelchair, because I personally don’t want to go through the wheelchair assessment service because it will take months and they’ll just ignore me because I’m fat, and because he doubts they’ll approve him anyways.

A wheelchair for his weight class, not overweight, is around £100.

A wheelchair for my weight class (250lbs) is around £200-400.

I cannot lose weight, I have hormone conditions that mess with my insulin and make it practically impossible, even with metformin and other insulin medications, to drop a single pound. I’ve starved myself, I’ve had under 500kal a day before now consistently because of atypical eating disordered habits and it has done nothing! They also won’t give me weight loss meds that work. So.

I’m not getting commissions, I don’t want to ask for kindness from y’all because my parents have given me more than enough complexes about accepting help and they’d probably freak out if they ever knew. So I’m just. Struggling. It hurts. I’m in so much fucking pain, man.

—————————————————

So… here’s a depressing reminder that my commissions are open. I can draw death and gore, doesn’t bother me. I’m happy to draw artistic nudity. I’m pretty cheap for an illustrator by industry standard. My extended diploma work is currently being graded, so I will soon be a certified illustrator, so I promise I am professional. I’ve been taught how to do commissions properly and am used to clients. My turnover is very quick, and most clients get their piece in a week or less as I usually have no queue.

If you can’t afford my prices I’m also currently ready to hear you out for a discount request.

Please consider me if you need or want artwork at the moment. Please tag or pass this along to accounts you think might be interested in my work or just spreading the word. My commission money will be going into a pool dedicated to purchasing a wheelchair when I find one at the right price, first or second hand.

Here’s my Carrd.

[ffc1cb]

new art blog

the short version:

1. i made a new art blog: @cbge;

2. @ffc1cb will stay up as an archive.

the long version:

hi everyone. this announcement is somewhat late, since the blog in question has been up for a few months now, and i’ve already started posting art on it. the reason it took me so long to “reveal” it is because i’ve been trying to figure out whether a new blog is something i actually want, or if it's just me throwing darts at a board, trying to make myself feel better somehow.

i don’t know when precisely it all started, but ever since sometime last year i’ve been going through a hard time, both emotionally and creatively. i’m not sure whether being depressed is what made art harder, or art becoming harder is what made me depressed (a bit of both, i think), but lately, drawing has been a struggle. 

i’ve found myself having less and less energy for art, and this lack of energy resulted in poorer quality of drawings, which resulted in me feeling like i’m getting worse at it, despite my efforts. i knew i could make good art, art that i’m proud of - i’ve done so countless times before, - but somehow it felt like i just couldn’t anymore, like my hands forgot how to. nothing looked right. 

i’ve been trying to experiment. i’ve learned some new things, tried this and that - it was enlightening, to say the least, and even though i kind of liked how it looked, it made me feel a sense of displacement. i was at odds with myself, my art, and how i felt about it, when previously i was always in sync. i was making art, yes, and it looked nice, but it felt like it wasn’t mine.

i suppose part of it was also the growing lack of engagement, and i don’t mean likes and reblogs - i never particularly cared about those. they are all just numbers to me; dry and impersonal. what i’m talking about is actual, human interactions: personal thoughts in tags, asks, replies, etc. a conversation. 

i don’t mean to sound “old” or anything, but i remember when talking to artists online was more commonplace. my wife tells me it’s because the internet culture has changed over the years, that people have become more reclusive, less willing to be open with their thoughts, and she's probably right, but in my slump i find it hard to believe. somehow it feels like it’s my fault for being less “engaging”, for seeming unapproachable or perhaps intimidating. maybe it’s “just a skill issue”, maybe it’s because i have stopped churning out fanart for popular fandoms, maybe it’s because i refuse to torture myself emotionally by having an art account on twitter (i can’t fucking stand the place anymore; i still post nsfw art there, but only because it’s literally one of the only places on the internet that allows you to do so. i miss when you could post female presenting tits on tumblr).

i have always, ever since i started posting art on the internet back in 2012, done it for human connection. i wanted to talk to people, and have people talk to me. i wanted to inspire people with my art, and i wanted to bring them comfort. i wanted to elicit an emotional response, and have people tell me about it. it was one of the main reasons i drew in the first place; having lost that, i’ve been struggling to stay passionate about making art.

i miss being a small artist on the internet during the 2010s. i remember when i could make a post going, “hey everyone, how are you all doing today?” and it would not seem weird to people in the slightest. it is just me? does anyone else feel that way? am i too deep in my own head? the internet feels so unwelcoming nowadays, especially to artists. we are all just content machines; people scroll by our stuff, or maybe look at it for half a second and leave a like before scrolling away. i know it’s unfair to demand people’s attention, especially now when our lives are already so overwhelmed by everything - no one has the energy to pay closer attention; i myself am not immune to mindless scrolling. but it feels bad. i wish we were all sincere and enthusiastic again.

anyway (sorry for rambling. i hope i haven’t bored you to death), you might want to say, okay, but how is making a new art blog on a “dying” social platform going to help with any of that? the truth is, i don’t know. i just felt like i needed a change. 

i’ve been running this blog since 2016 (that’s almost 8 full years!). i feel incredibly attached to it, but at the same time, i feel it weighing me down. 

there are people who followed me years ago for one specific thing, still expecting me to post about said thing (i still find it mindboggling that some people follow artists for a specific fandom only, but that is a whole other matter for a whole other post that i will never write). a third, if not half, of my following are probably dead blogs. and with my current struggle with trying to regain the joy i once felt for making art, looking back at all the art i’ve done over the years makes me feel tired. i still love it all; it’s all very dear to me. i’m proud of it; looking at it makes me mourn my younger and more passionate self.

so i’ve decided to make a new blog, where i will let myself post whatever i want, in whatever stage of donness i feel like. maybe it will help me, somehow. maybe it won’t. but if you care about my art, if you want to keep following me on my artistic journey, i welcome you to join me there. similarly, feel free not to - no hard feelings.

thank you everyone for your support over the years; it matters a lot to me. i’m not planning to delete or private this blog; it will stay up, and i will still be reachable on here. i will still answer asks, if there will be any. i’m just not planning to post any art here anymore. this is it for my dear old friend ffc1cb.

i can be found in other places:

@cbge, as mentioned earlier,

@k0nstanta, an art blog dedicated solely to my wife and i’s ocs,

@inquisimail, a dragon age ask blog that has become my dragon age sideblog in general,

and multiple other blogs, none of which are art related, but feel free to ask, if you’re curious.

thank you very much for reading all of this. i hope you have a wonderful day.

[irisbleufic]

Of all the bullshit I never expected to be back on with the same intensity of October through December of 2000, Beetlejuice was not it. But I finally got to see the musical yesterday, and the part of me that has adored all 94 episodes of the animated series from the moment I started watching them on ABC Saturday mornings in 1989 just fucking flared—this fond, awful tightness in my chest. It’s the first TV show I ever imprinted on; it’s been with me since childhood. Surreal.

About 4 years into watching the cartoon, I finally saw the live-action movie that the cartoon was based on. I hated it, because it was so malevolent and empty compared to the incredible world-building characters in the animated series. Serious shout-outs to Stephen Ouimette and Alyson Court for all that stunning, hilarious, and often moving voicework.

Now, okay, I need to go back to 2000 again to make this all make sense. I’d watched the show from 1989 until whenever the 4th season ended. It wasn’t until I was in my first semester of college, newly transplanted to New England, that I found a couple folks within my program who had loved the show growing up, too. I ordered all of the episodes on VHS. It was difficult to track them all down in 2000, and it was expensive. But I pulled it off, and we had Friday night watch parties for weeks over the month of October. But that is not where this ends.

I was in the process of winding down the writing I’d been doing on Tim Burton’s Sleepy Hollow for the entirety of my senior year of high school. Suddenly, I’m in college and watching this fucking cartoon and thinking, there is so much heart in this. How the fuck is there so much heart. I haven’t seen two characters this wholesome codependent in, well, ever. I went looking for forums and mailing lists devoted to the cartoon. I found a mailing list. There were a handful of artists drawing amazing fancomics on there, and they were like, what do you do? Oh. I write. And they were like: do you understand how desperately some of us have wanted fic, but just can’t find it?

That is the wrong thing to say to me when I’m on a downward spiral of realizing I’m not going to escape a fandom without getting myself into a project so long that it’s all I’ll be doing for fucking months on end. If you’re one of the people who knew me back then, you know what I did for those four months in the fall/winter of 2000. I wrote a novel. Sure, I came close to failing a couple of classes, but it was the first time I understood exactly what I was capable of building as a fanwriter. Maybe even as a real writer.

“Time Will Tell” was hosted on a friend’s Angelfire site for a handful of years. People found it via LiveJournal, too, because I linked it there. I put it on AO3 somewhere circa 2012 and took it down again in 2017 because I didn’t feel there was enough interest in it, and also, my 19-year-old editorial foibles and typos were aspects I wanted to amend in it.

The musical took more inspiration from the cartoon than the film. I’m stunned and grateful for that. I found the “Time Will Tell” file buried pretty deep in my Gmail folders. I’ve been reading it since the drive home last night. I just can’t believe there’s now enough of a fandom for me to consider finally polishing it and getting it back online. It’s one of my two oldest surviving pieces of writing.

Anyway, sorry for the Gotham fic delays that I’d been trying to get a handle on. Now that the semester’s over, I feel that getting this thing I wrote twenty-three years ago back to the light of day is the best use of my time for a couple weeks.

If you’re one of the people who read “Time Will Tell” back in the day, thank you. I don’t know how many people out there still remember it beyond maybe ten or so friends I’m still in contact with all these years later. I’m sorry it disappeared for a while.

[hanasnx]

okay okay here is some more ani+ hands content as promised

so i can't get the idea of anakin being smug about it out of my head. bc like, it’s such a fucking ego boost for this man that you’re falling apart for his literal hands 

_____

like it starts off all innocent, with you having little doodles of anakin and some of your other friends in your little sketchbook that you never let go of

until you eventually start drawing anakin more and more… bc he’s just so pretty and drawable yk. like he’s got the curls and the scar and just how intense his eyes can be so you can’t help but draw him. until one day you watch him going on about the different parts of his lightsaber and how he’s planning to tweak it and yada yada but you’re just watching his hands bc lord almighty

you tell yourself it's an innocent, purely artistic fascination but that is NOT the case when you’re touching yourself at night thinking about ‘em so later on as you get closer (as friends or as enemies, you decide), he finds your notebook one day bc it fell out of your stuff or something and there are just these beautiful sketches of… his hands?

and at first, he’s confused? bc that couldn’t possibly be the case but his curiosity takes over, he leafs through to see different images of himself - his eyes, his side profile, him that one time he showed up with a bedhead - but most importantly his hands. He recognizes them as his own because of the level of detail and the thin rope bracelet on his left. so he becomes a man on a mission to test this theory ofc. handing you your things, letting the sleeves of his robes slide back more than necessary. taking every opportunity to put his arm around the small of your back as he needs to move past. working on his lightsaber or R2 whenever you’re around, noticing how one of the most intelligent, witty people he knows becomes simply mesmerized just watching him tinker with stuff

and now that he’s confirmed his theory? you bet your ass he is gonna use it night and day. i’m thinking of him goofing around with some of the men from his troops until he’s shoving one of them up against the wall with something like “is that how you’re gonna talk to a general?” and then he lets him go and they’re all laughing about it as they go their separate ways but when he walks past you, you hear him whisper like “you wished that was you, don’t you?” and your brain fucking short circuits. him when one day he’s trying to focus on something and all you can hear is you rambling about something or the other under he gets up puts his hand over your mouth and he feels you go pliant under him just looking at him with these bedroom eyes bc omfg you can feel how the pads of his fingers are roughly pressing into the flesh of your cheek “Just let me finish this thing without talkin’ my ear off, and maybe i’ll fuck you stupid properly, hm?” he says casually, as if he isn’t wearing the world’s smuggest look on his face. and you bet your ass this man will deliver “wanted my hands on you, is that it?” “look at you, drooling over my hands like some cheap lower-level slut” “Want my fingers in your mouth? Or around your throat until they leave pretty little bruises, hm? bcs I can make that happen” “gonna make you hump my fuckin arm until you make a fuckin mess like i know you will”

“greedy little pussy is taking my fingers like you were made for it, goddamn”

him making you watch while licks his fingers off after having his fingers in your pussy

okay i'm done for now

prev post

☥ “it’s such a fucking ego boost for this man that you’re falling apart for his literal hands”

100%

☥ “just how intense his eyes can be so you can’t help but draw him”

i love describing anakin’s eyes as intense. they’re just so present, so demanding, his gaze so severe and unforgiving. yes. intense. i love it.

☥ “he recognizes them as his own because of the level of detail and the thin rope bracelet on his left.”

the fucking rope bracelet detail. omfg. it’s so simple, so him

☥ “taking every opportunity to put his arm around the small of your back as he needs to move past.”

as i said in my last post,.,.,,.,, yes. hand at the small of your back supremacy

☥ “him when one day he’s trying to focus on something and all you can hear is you rambling about something or the other under he gets up puts his hand over your mouth and he feels you go pliant under him just looking at him with these bedroom eyes bc omfg you can feel how the pads of his fingers are roughly pressing into the flesh of your cheek”

stoppppp stop stop. shutting you up manually with just a big hand over your mouth im fucking drooooling. i’d be lookin up at him with crazy fuck me eyes fr you’re so real for saying this suffu

☥ “‘look at you, drooling over my hands like some cheap lower-level slut’; ‘want my fingers in your mouth? or around your throat until they leave pretty little bruises, hm?’; & ‘gonna make you hump my fuckin arm until you make a fuckin mess like i know you will’”

cheap lower-level slut😳💕🥴🫦😵‍💫 i think about this a lot. just,,,,, the coruscant detail, adding “cheap” makes me go so crazy. omfg. i love degradation; imagine those finger pad shaped bruises littering your neck im feral; & arm kink🚨arm kink🚨 im freeaaakaksigjngng i wanna fuck his arm so fucking bad this made me soooo 😵‍💫😵‍💫 insane. using the word “hump” god. chefs kiss.

☥ “‘greedy little pussy is taking my fingers like you were made for it,’”

this. this. this. this. insinuating you were created for the sole purpose of sex, for being obedient, for being his hole. oh god yes. i cant even fucking breathe i gotta sit down im so dizzy imagining his thick fingers stuffed inside a drippy pussy i’m sooooo😭😭

☥ “him making you watch while licks his fingers off after having his fingers in your pussy”

STOPPPPP STOP FUCKING STOPP i cant take it anymore i feel like i gotta break shit rn

the big show he’d make of it,.,.,. side eyeing you while he fucking licks his fingers clean. until his eyes are full on boring into yours as he’s sucking the remnants of your finish off his skin and you’re wishing you were the one to do it.

licking your cum/squirt off his fingers together, making out with his digits and melding your tongues through and around them… like the disgusting, impatient, greedy perverts you are.

[eternal-kosmo-ghoul]

*°:⋆ₓₒ day 7. mirror sex

.｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡ “frosted windows”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — ❤︎ the fogged windows are perfect places to trace pretty little shapes on, cirrus however has a different shape in mind

pairing: cirrus ghoulette x gn!reader

a/n: i want mommy cirrus to step on me so hard you don’t understand. this one will be shorter than usual

cw: nsfw content. mirror sex. fingering. technically it’s sex against a window but it has a reflection. strap on usage.

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

“i think i prefer seeing you all fucked out against the window like this… you just look so damn hot.” —❤︎

┅✦┅

“hehe, look at this little shape i made.”

“awww, that one is cute.”

cirrus just giggled at your antics, finding them endearing. the two of you rented out a log cabin for the season to stay in, just to enjoy the holiday with each other’s company.

the two of you stood in front of one of the many windows in the cabin, which was frosted from the chilling, crystal snow from outside. it was a rather freezing day today, especially because it was getting closer to late december. but of course, you wanted to make do of the lovely frost and have some fun with it.

“see look at this one! it’s a little bunny!” you cheered happily, tracing your fingertip on the glass to create a simple, cartoonish bunny that had such a dorky look on it. the air ghoulette laughed.

“seriously? that’s what you call a bunny?” cirrus laughed sarcastically. she pinched your cheek with a coo, and you just whined.

“heyyy.”

“here, i’ll show you how it’s really done.”

her voice held a certain confidence to it. cirrus used her ghoul tail to make quick swipes across the window, each one creating a thin, swift line that led to the creation of a rather skrunkly looking snow bunny.

you stifled a laugh.

“… hah, you sure that one is better than mine?” you managed to snort out, and cirrus narrows her eyes at you, rolling her eyes playfully. “it looks like a shitty shakespearean disaster.”

“you dare to make fun of my creative intellect? i’ll have you know that i am a very talented artist.” cirrus spoke in an exaggerated, dramatic tone, obviously messing around with you.

you just punched her shoulder playfully, giggling at her sassy attitude. “yeah, only with your fingers.”

she sticks her tongue out at you. “i can’t tell if you meant that as a sexual connotation, or me playing my keyboard.”

“hey you never know! it can be both!”

the two of you giggled, laughing and pushing each other around. it was nice getting to rewind and relax with your partner like this. as much as cirrus was a pain in the ass sometimes, she was genuinely a great girlfriend to you. you both leaned against the window and calmed down from your laughter, wiping away tears of joy.

“ahh.. but honestly.. there are other shapes i’m good at making, ones that don’t involve me making shitty drawings on a frosted window.” cirrus spoke between her chuckles, her voice becoming more calm and soothing.

you giggled, wiping your eyes as you looked at cirrus, growing intrigued by her words. “haha.. elaborate, will ya?”

cirrus smirked, her tail coiling around your calf.

“well, first i’ll have to preface this by saying that it is a two-person job.” cirrus started out, her voice dropping lowly. “y’know, it’s a team effort.”

your breath hitched from this.

“uh-huh…”

“and it’s very hands-on.”

“mhm..”

“y’know, to really create the most beautiful piece of art.”

you sighed at your girlfriend’s attempts to be teasing.

“just say you wanna fuck and i’ll say yes, babe.” you bluntly stated. cirrus’ eyes widened, and you gave her a blank look, but that smirk spoke volumes.

no further words of affirmation were needed.

cirrus shook her head and mirrored your devilishly charming grin. in a blink, she had you pushed up against the frosted, chilling window, her chest pushing up against your back.

“fine then, since you’re so insistent on it.” she chuckled out lustfully, grabbing your chin and forcing your head to turn around.

the two of you started to kiss with a fervent desire to feel each other’s bodies on one another. cirrus’ quick and nimble fingers quickly made do to discard the jeans you were wearing, yanking both your jeans and underwear down until it was sagging off of your knees.

“i’m going to turn you into a fucking work of art, darling.” cirrus moaned into your mouth lustfully. “and you’re going to fucking like it.”

“mmmh.. sure i will honey.” you teased, and cirrus growled, but it was quickly replaced by a promiscuous chuckle.

licking her fingers, she teased and prodded at your aroused hole before pushing them inside of you. you let out a sharp gasp and pushed your face against the hazy up cabin window, your breath fogging up the areas that were clear. despite the haziness on the glass, you could see your reflection, and your blissed out face.

“fuccckk that’s it… relax.” cirrus groaned out, watching your reflection and how you moaned lustfully against the window. the window was bone-chilling, but the difference in temperature only made pleasure shoot between your legs.

cirrus’ fingers continued to make work in that ring of muscle, stretching out your hole, and prepping you for the main event. she was precise with her fingers, she knew exactly what she was doing.

as your moans got louder and more pornographic, cirrus suddenly pulled her fingers out, making you whine from the emptiness. she quickly hushed you by putting the fluffy end of her tail against your lips, effectively shushing you.

“quiet. i’m only getting started.” she said with a tone of authority. cirrus pulled her pants down, to reveal the strap on she’s been hiding this whole time.

you cursed at the sight. “damn, you just had that on you?”

“hell yes i did, i knew i was gonna have to fuck that attitude out of you on this trip.” cirrus groaned. “so you better hold onto that window, baby.”

you obeyed immediately, and held onto whatever surface the window had to offer. without warning, cirrus pushed the strap on completely inside of you, and she relished in the sight of watching you squirm and moan from taking her size.

“ahh!”

“ohhh there we go… look at that slutty hole taking my cock so well.”

it wasn’t long before cirrus started to absolutely wreck your hole, watching you bounce on it and hearing you let out heavenly moans. each moan only created more fog against the window, and the lusting fire in your core only grew more hot.

cirrus was pounding away onto you, her breaths ragged from the quickness of her movements.

she grabbed your chin and forced your head to look at a mirror that was laying on the floor across from you guys. there, you could see how good cirrus was fucking you with her strap, and damn did it only get you going.

“o-ohh yess!” you whimpered out loudly, voice hoarse from all of the screaming and moaning.

cirrus had a satisfied look on your face. she could sense you getting close to your impending orgasm, and she just kept fucking your tight little hole.

“you see that? you see how goddamn sexy you look.” she whispered in an alluring tone, watching how her hips thrusted into your hole from behind and how sexy you looked against the window. your palms, face and body pressed up against the glass.

“i think i prefer seeing you all fucked out against the window like this… you just look so damn hot.”

you could only whine pathetically in response, to drink off of cirrus’ strap to even care about what she had to say.

“c-cum… i need to cum!”

“oh? is that what you want? does this toy want to cum?”

she grinned and pushed you more against the window, her strap digging deeper into your hole, making you cry out in pure euphoria.

“then cum.”

like it was on command, you came with a loud whine. hot, sticky fluids coated your lower regions and dripped on cirrus’ toy. she let out a loud groan and held onto your body tightly as you rode out your orgasm. finally, she pulled you away from the window, and you just leaned against her chest.

“shhh.. i got you.” she spoke lovingly, and you just mewled in response, before looking up at the window.

your body was marked onto the glass. every lustful moment was captured on that glossy window, and it looked damn good. your eyes widened at the sight, and cirrus smirked.

“see? told you i was artistic.”

you definitely need to do this more often.

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

[ramrage]

How about another fortune?

chapter 4: Part 4

work rating: M

chapter rating: T

relationship: John “Soap” MacTavish x Simon “Ghost” Riley

characters: John “Soap” MacTavish x Simon “Ghost” Riley (endgame); John “Soap” MacTavish x Original Female Character (temporary)

tags: Freeform, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Straight? John “Soap” MacTavish, Cheating, Non-Chronological, this is a (gay) lovestory, Self-Discovery, on god this is the strangest shit i have ever written, Captivity, Implied/Referenced Torture, Forced Bonding, Forced Kissing, Metafiction

ao3 link

CH 1

CH 2

CH 3

CH 4 (right here lol)

How about another break from our normal broadcasting?

“Alright?”

Shit. “Sorry, what?”

The director rolls their eyes. “Glad you’re listening. I said I wanted you to bring the shy thing to the drawing sequence. God.”

“Sorry. Yeah, no. Yeah, I can do that,” you stutter. Not a great look.

“Good,” the director says, rather pissed. “We’ll be rolling in a minute or two, so get yourself together.”

Maybe acting isn’t the right career choice. You close your eyes and try to center yourself, but the camera is burning hot, and so are the lights andand everyone seems to know what they’re doing but you and it doesn’t feel good. It doesn’t.

“Quiet on set!”

(In and hold and hold)

“Action!”

The fake art instructor circles the room and tells the fake artists that there will be 45 minutes on the clock. Some of the other fake artists nod along to this, and you do, too. The pencil shakes a little as you take it into your hand.

You start by mapping out the general shapes of the man, doing your best to keep your gaze far and away from his eyes even as you study his body, large muscles relaxed and soft, as if no one was even watching him. You scowl as the rough circle making up his torso comes out all wrong. Too broad, somehow, but also too narrow.

Every inch of John’s body is coated in a sticky film of sweat, cooling quickly but not quickly enough under the shade of a willow tree. He can feel Ghost studying him from across the clearing, though he doesn’t want to look. What he can catch through his peripheral vision is already unnerving enough. Those eyes don’t miss a thing, John knows, and that’s good and truly terrifying.

Ghost walks over, stiff, and grunts when John keeps his eyes on the shoddy patchwork across his thigh “Still gonna stick to that story, Sergeant?” Ghost says after a moment.

John still doesn’t look. “There’s no bloody story.”

“There better be, because if you call the shit you pulled business-as-usual, I’m going to have to reconsider your spot on this team.”

Soap rolls his eyes, shakes his head. “That’s a load of shit and you know it.”

“Watch your fucking mouth,” Ghost growls. He kicks his boot into John’s. “And fucking look at me when I’m speaking to you.”

John has no choice but to look then, and he tries his best to seem menacing as he gazes up. All his rage probably doesn’t do him enough good. “What seems to be the problem, sir?”

“You can’t focus for shit, ignore my orders, fuck up a fucking milk run—”

“Fuck it up?” John all but laughs, sardonic. “We got our intel, neutralized the threat, and made it out. Wanna tell me what about those results is fucked?”

You manage to scratch in enough lines that the form starts to seem accurate enough. (In and) You bite your lip, and move lower, tracing out two oblong shapes, one for each thigh (out) .

“There’s that fucking leg of yours, for starters,” Ghost says, gesturing down at the blood-soaked bandages wrapped around John’s thigh.

“I’m bloody fine,” John dismisses, bringing his feet beneath him to stand, as if to prove his point. It fucking smarts something fierce, but John gives nothing away as he squares up to Ghost. “Maybe you’re the one with the fucking problem.”

“Don’t fucking start,” Ghost says.

John cocks his head, crowding Ghost’s space. “I reckon it’s a bit too late for that, considering you’ve already started this.”

They keep coming out wrong, no matter what you do. Whenever you focus in on the angle of one thigh, you seem to lose the directionality of his body and it all comes out fucked. You release the breath you’re holding and shift back on your seat, taking in the drawing as a whole. The man is still relaxed, unseeing gaze, as you study his torso, trying to figure out how to translate it onto the page. Biting your lip, you draw a line down the middle, splitting his chest in half.

Ghost pushes both hands into John’s chest, stopping him in his tracks. His eyes are blown wide. “Have you lost your fucking mind, Sergeant?”

Not that John plans on admitting it, but it must be true. Because here he is, completely ridiculous, picking a fight with his commanding officer for no good damn reason. And despite it all, he can’t help but notice their proximity, chests heaving only a hand’s width apart, faces, too. Ghost’s skin shows through the grease paint, what hasn’t faded away settling into the wrinkles around his eyes. He absolutely has lost his mind, and he absolutely has a problem. Turns out, it’s standing right in front of him.

The moment hangs heavy in the humid night air, in their humid breaths. John glances to where Ghost’s lips are hidden beneath the mask. He shouldn’t. He really, really shouldn’t.

“Johnny, what are you—”

After a bit of tidying with the eraser, the figure starts looking more like just that—a figure—instead of a mess of blobs. The rasp of pencils against drawing paper fills the room, reminding you of the art classes you’d taken in school. It makes it easier to forget that you’re on a movie set and not a classroom. You can imagine where the shoulders might begin, and then cascade down into arms, one mostly hidden from view.

Ghost’s hands shoot out, circling the top of John’s biceps. “Johnny?”

John opens his eyes but can’t read the expression in Ghost's, even though they’re only a few centimeters away. Finding the sense he’d seem to have lost, John stumbles back. “Fuck, I’m—fuck. Please forget that.”

Ghost lets John break free from his grasp, but stands stock-still, feet rooted into the grass.

“I don’t know what that—” John tries to explain as he retreats, but he trips over his words. Not like any of them can dig him out of this pit. Ghost still hasn’t made to move, which is probably for the best. An owl calls out in the distance, mocking him, probably.

“Did you just try to—”

“I said forget it, Ghost,” John snaps, leaning his weight on the far side of the willow tree. The air is hot against his hot cheeks, steady and overbearing like the throbbing pulse in his thigh. In an hour or so, maybe he can blame it on the blood loss. He wants to flee the moment he hears Ghost’s footsteps approach, but what’s the point? He’s fucked.

Ghost at least has the grace to leave something of a safe distance between them, but it’s still too much. John still burns under his attention, which is definitively, painfully singular. “Don’t think I can,” Ghost says eventually.

The man blinks, lets his eyelids stay closed for a breath before they reopen. You’ve only just started considering where to place the head, but you’re already dreading the task of sketching out his face. It feels wrong to do it injustice, but you suppose it doesn’t really matter much in the end. The first circle lands too high. You erase it and try again, this time letting the line of his shoulders bisect the shape.

Yeah, that looks like it makes sense.

John shakes his head, unthinking. Nausea licks against his ears, boils in his throat, making it awfully hard to speak. He can’t. He just shakes his head again instead.

“Did you try to kiss me, Johnny?”

Ghost’s voice is remarkably even as he asks this the second time. It shouldn’t be. John swallows. “I’m not gay.”

“Course not,” Ghost says as he approaches, “Caught in the heat of battle. Suffering from blood loss. I’ve heard ‘em all—take your pick.”

“What?”

Ghost shrugs. “Nothing I’m sure you’ve never heard about. ‘S not uncommon.”

“Well, this isn’t like that,” John answers.

He hasn’t even grasped what Ghost was angling at, at least not entirely, but he still knows danger when confronted with it. In this line of work, but also everywhere and anywhere.

There’s no doubt that Ghost sees Soap squirming under his critical gaze, but he doesn’t comment on it. Doesn’t let up, either. He’s just as calm, just as imposing as ever. “What is this like then?”

“You said it yourself—blood loss.”

“Bullshit. You were off before you got shot. “

“I’m solid, Ghost. Just fucking let it go.”

“Not fucking happening. One of my best soldiers is a fucking mess in the field all of a sudden, so it’s my responsibility to figure out why.”

“I have a girlfriend. Long-term.”

“So she’s why you threw the mission?”

John shakes his head.

Ghost is slow on his approach. “Then what,” “the hell is going on?”

“With all due respect, sir, back off.”

Despite his fighting words, John’s eyes dart to where the fabric rises along a hill of skin, sitting right below the mask’s teeth.

Even just as vague shading, what’s meant to be the shadow in the space below the brow bone, all the way to below the eye, it looks fucked. The way it carves out the face isn’t entirely wrong, but you struggle to ascertain which parts of it are wrong. You erase a bit to the left, tighten up the shape somehow, but it’s even worse. Giving up, you move to where you think the other eye should be and find the scribbles you place there somehow make it all even worse.

“Fuckin’ hell, soldier. Is that really it? All this because Johnnyboy’s pent up? Don’t worry, no doubt Price’ll put you on medical leave when we get back. ‘M sure the lovely long-term girlfriend will set you to rights.”

“Don’t talk about her like that.” He didn't like what Ghost could be thinking, didn't like Ghost thinking of him like that.

“Easy. What you do in your free time is none of my business, soldier.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Sounds like a lot of things aren’t like that. That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

“Shut the fuck up, Ghost. I mean it.”

Ghost does, for a moment, as if he’s letting the outburst run its course, or maybe considering what to say next.

“You’re a liability like this, you know that? Insufferable, too. If she isn’t gonna sort you out, go behind a tree and take care of yourself.”

“You’re off your head.”

“That makes two of us, then,” Ghost scoffs.

John flounders for a bit, feels the energy shift in real time from fear to excitement and then back to fear. “I’m not just gonna go and have a wank with you standing here.”

“What? Need help?” John can’t tell if he’s joking.

“I-you know we can’t.”

For a long moment, the silence sits and Ghost regards him strangely.

“You—ah. You weren’t serious, were you?”

Ghost shrugs. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, like I said. You fit the bill well enough,” he explains.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Wasn’t sure if you were out or not. It’s always the blokes with birds back home that fuckin’ lose it one day. All pent up. It goes one of two ways.”

“What’s that?”

“Either they fix their shit somehow, or they fuck up and get booted.”

“That’s not what this is.” Well, it was. But John wasn’t going to let it affect him like that. He was better than that.

“That’s a relief. Wasn’t keen on letting us get killed because Little Johnny was feeling neglected.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Well, whatever it is, you better figure it the fuck out by the time you’re back from leave.”

“I’m not fucking going on leave.”

“Sure you aren’t.”

Circling their heads through the heat is a heaviness, a dare. John wonders how long he can hold it. Ghost’s probably wondering it, too.

“Saved by the bell, Sergeant. Exfil’s inbound.”

“How far?”

“20 klicks.”

(and out and in)

if things were different

The grass is soft and ankle-deep, the blades that aren’t crushed underfoot sway off to one side or another and then come back to standing once the boots pass. This goes on a couple hundred times, times four. Two men, two boots per. It’d be a peaceful quiet if not for the talking, but there’s the talking, so not-there’s the peace and quiet.

“All I’m saying is, they have the salt and vinegar there for a reason,” Soap explains, sort of placating. They’re heading somewhere, but it’s not of mind.

“There’s sinks in the toilets, don’t mean you gotta use em,” Ghost responds with a shrug, fucking nasty despite the wash of God’s Greatest Sunset Hits playing soft and easy about him. It’s such a pretty sight that Soap half-forgives him for being disgusting.

Ghost raises a hand, flips it twice. “No glove, no love, Sergeant.” A few more steps, more field unfurls before them, and then it doesn’t. The top of the hill. “It’s all sterile under here.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

“Don’t believe me?”

“Not remotely.”

Ghost hums.

They march across and down the hill, hips jamming along the decline. Ghost must be thinking all the while because he hums again, louder, somewhere around the halfway point. Soap would known for certain if he was, if he were looking (he can always tell), but there’s no need for vigilance like that. Not here or now, and not with Ghost anymore.

“Got a thing for liars, then, don’t you?”

Soap glances Ghost’s way, just long enough to roll his eyes—not to study. “You tell me.”

This is a place, Soap thinks, for holding hands. In a general sense, at least. Not one woman he’s ever courted wouldn’t be thinking the same thing. He could imagine some of them dragging him back up the hill for a better view of the field, painted lilac. Some might smile with that particular look in their eyes, maybe tuck an errant lock of hair behind their ear if they judged it’d look nicer that way. A cheeky remark could possibly precede what would happen next: they’d kiss slow, soft, and deep. Real lover shit, shit dreamed up by women who read too much Nicholas Spark —all civilians, of course.

Being soldiers, and men, and not particularly prone to sentimental displays, Soap and Ghost carry on instead, dropping a few more heavy steps into the grass (times two, times two).

The energy is still there, though, self-evident or self-confident enough to stand by itself without the neon sign/bells/whistles/etc.

“We should kiss in a place like this. Someday.”

Ghost whips around.

“Did you hit your head when I wasn’t lookin’?”

“Ach, can’t a man indulge in a little romance from time to time?”

“I coulda saved a lot of time and money if I knew some fucking grass was all our Johnny needed to get in the mood.”

“It’s not the fucking grass, you roaster.” Soap glances around and the sight makes him renege. “It doesn’t hurt, but it’s the whole thing. All of it.”

“Scenery, then.”

“Aye, something like that.”

A few more steps in the silence before Ghost nods.

“That’s nice, Johnny. Woulda hanged myself about that posh Iceland resort otherwise.”

“You still can. If you want.”

“Ta.”

BAD LIBS

BAD LIBS is fun to play with friends, but you can also play it by yourself! To begin with, DO NOT look at the story on the page below. Fill in the blanks on this page with the words called for (don’t worry too much about choosing the right words—nothing you say will fix things, anyways!) Then, using the words you have selected, fill in the blank spaces in the story.

Now you’ve created your own hilarious BAD LIBS game.

APOLOGY

SWEAR WORD

VERB

NOUN

NOUN

ADJECTIVE ENDING IN -ER

VERB

NOUN

VERB ENDING IN -ING

NEGATIVE ADJECTIVE

DUBIOUSLY FORGIVABLE OFFENSE, PAST TENSE

DUBIOUSLY FORGIVABLE OFFENSE, PAST TENSE

COMPLIMENTARY ADJECTIVE

VERB ENDING IN -ING

VERB

VARIATION OF “IT’S NOT YOU, IT’S ME”

APOLOGY

Ella. _SWEAR WORD_. I don’t know what to _VERB_. I don’t even know why you’re even giving me the _NOUN_ of _NOUN_ right now. You’re a(n) _ADJECTIVE ENDING IN -ER_ person than I am. I just want you to _VERB_ that none of this was your _NOUN_. None of it. I’m not _VERB ENDING IN -ING_ you to forgive me. This whole time, you were never _NEGATIVE ADJECTIVE_. Not even when I _DUBIOUSLY FORGIVABLE OFFENSE, PAST TENSE_ or when I _DUBIOUSLY FORGIVABLE OFFENSE, PAST TENSEE_. No, you were always _COMPLIMENTARY ADJECTIVE_. I don’t even know what I’m _VERB ENDING IN -ING_ to say. I just _VERB_ you to understand, _VARIATION OF “IT’S NOT YOU, IT’S ME”_.

but you’re still you

and i’m still me

[nocryptographer]

Writer's year 2024

Since you artists are doing your (amazing) art summaries, and I can't do that since I can't draw... I'm going to do an excerpt summary. This was my first year in fanfic writing, and oh, what a joyride it was! Here we go, my tasting menu of the year:

January

"It was one of those winters that never really began. A moist combination of snow and water kept falling from the sky, but never turned into fluffy, white flakes that would have made Enfield look magical and cozy."

(From We're Not In Enfield Anymore)

February

She closed her eyes, and Astarion knew everything had been said. He lay on the bed next to her and pulled her into his embrace. And there they stayed, until her heart stopped beating.

(From All The Roads We Never Took)

March

“With a woman? But I’m not… I like men”, she said.

“Labels, labels, labels… my dear, didn’t you just yesterday think you would never want to warm anyone’s bed but Lord Edmund’s? And yet, I bet people from here to Rivington heard you enjoying the company of Wyll Ravengard…”

“Shut up!” Gloriana shushed and turned bright red.

(From Maid In Faerûn)

April

“You’re knocking? That’s a first”, Gloriana said. “What happened to just bursting into my bedroom and destroying some furniture in the process?”

“You look lovely”, Ominoth said, ignoring her.

“I assume you’re about to tell me the details of trial number six?” Gloriana said.

(From Maid In Faerûn)

May

Cazador laughed maniacally. He loved this. He felt shivers all through his body. The power of this magic was unquestionable. It was dangerous, yet he couldn’t get enough of it.

“Sounds like you enjoyed it”, Sheena said and smiled, which now irritated Cazador noticeably less than just a couple of minutes ago.

“What is this? I need to learn this”, he said, still in awe.

“That was Metallica and Master of Puppets. One of the greatest jams ever written.”

(From Strange Highways)

June

“How do we know it’s… working?” Cazador asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The music.”

“Oh we’ll know. If people start moshing, then it’s totally working”, Randy grinned.

“What is moshing?” Cazador asked.

Randy shook his head and smiled. It was time for another lesson.

(From Strange Highways)

July

Cazador gave one last look to Astarion and his friends. Then he turned away. Goodbye, Astarion . At least I don’t have to look at that smug face of yours ever again. He knew what was coming. He had feared it ever since Mephistopheles had emerged from the chasm. In the face of the inevitable he felt surprisingly calm. He tried to memorize Sheena’s face, every detail of it, so he could always bring it back with his mind in the darkness that awaited. He formed the words with his lips: It’s going to be okay .

“Tempting”, he said to Mephistopheles. “But my answer is no.”

(From Strange Highways)

August

“I love you, Caz”, she said from the verge of falling asleep.

She drifted into a peaceful dream, the warmth of her words still lingering in the air. Cazador stared at the ceiling, contemplating tonight and all nights to come, and came to the conclusion - once absurd, but now undeniable - that life was the most wonderful thing.

(From Down To The Paradise City)

September

“Because I was failing!” Petras shouted. “I can’t do this! I tried my best but it went wrong from the start. No one respects me. There’s no one in the palace because I haven’t turned a single soul. I don’t know how you did it. It’s so stressful and how am I supposed to even… am I supposed to ask them? What if they say no? I can’t just go around biting people and… I thought if I ascended, things would be different, I would be powerful… that I would be like…”

Petras didn’t finish his sentence. Cazador hid his head in his hands and counted slowly to ten to avoid resorting to his old, violent ways.

“You reckless idiot! I curse the day I turned you! Because of your delusions we’re all fucked!” He exclaimed.

(From Objects In The Rear View Mirror)

October

On mornings like this Astarion would roam the halls, searching for nothing in particular. Using the last moments before sunrise, he briefly stepped on the balcony, smelling the morning air. If he closed his eyes, he could almost sense the tender warmth of the sun and forget it would burn him to ashes if he stayed any longer. This had become a little routine of his. Toying with death gave him a satisfying sense of control.

(From And Blessed Are The Broken)

November

I walked away but here I stand

Their blood forever in my hands

A twisted mirror, who is he

Smash reflection, kill the beast

(From Objects In The Rear View Mirror)

December

“Yes, I remember”, Cazador said, his face muscles aching from trying to force a smile. “I know what I put my name on, but now that you mention it, we could perhaps revisit the terms…”

“That’s out of the question, Szarr.”

“Sure. I understand.”

11:18 StarBoy85 joined the meeting

“Splendid morning to my favourite client!” Astarion said, his face appearing on the right corner of the screen. His hair was messy in a deliberate-looking, boyishly charming way. “What a pleasure to see you, mister Mephistopheles. Worry not, I’m here to rescue you from the miserable company of these two killjoys. I’m kidding, of course! We’re all one big, happy family here at Crimson Technologies, aren’t we, Caz?”

(From Off The Clock)

[dominimoonbeam]

Audio Script - M4A - First Tattoo

I wrote this a while ago and would love to put it out there for audio artist to pick up if they're interested but I'm not really sure how to go about that, so we'll start here! <3

I wrote this M4A but if you want to change any of the pronouns you're of course welcome to.

Please give me credit if you decide to record this script, and a link so I can listen too! And, you know, don't put it behind a paywall. But if you want to pay me to make you your own scripts, you're welcome to contact me. <3 <3

Audio artists be warned, I seem to make a lot of background sound notes. Good luck, brave creators! I believe in your sound magic!

2 voiced characters with no interaction. Second speaker is the main character.

tags: confession of sorts, idiots in love, tattoo shop

First Tattoo

by Domini Moonbeam aka Clover Down

[fade in ambient music, muffled voices, the hum of tattoo machines]

You nervous?

Don’t be! I got this. You’re in good hands.

[paper rustle]

This is a great design. You did this yourself?

No? A friend?

Huh… You know this artwork style looks a lot like—

Yeah. You’re a friend of theirs? Roommates? They don’t usually do work like this unless they’re the one putting down the ink…

Alright. I’m just going to transfer this to tracing paper to put on you. Hang tight for a minute.

[curtain]

[waiting]

[muffled other voice] What the fuck? Who’s using my art?

[curtain thrown back]

[second voice, MC, surprised to see the listener and not some stranger stealing their art] Oh… [relief] Roomie. Shit, I thought someone stole my work… You… Wait…

What the hell are you doing here?

No.

You were going to let that jerk tattoo you?

I’m your fucking roommate! We’ve been best friends forever and you finally want to get a tattoo and you went to them?

No, they’re not bad. That’s not the point!

No, it’s really not.

If anyone was going to tattoo you, it should have been me.

[chair sound, sitting down and scooting closer, voice lower]

You didn’t even tell me you wanted to get a tattoo.

A whim? Yeah right. You don’t do anything on a whim.

[paper sound] This isn’t a small tattoo.

What the hell were you going to say when I saw it?

What do you mean I wouldn’t see it?

Oh. I mean… yeah I guess I don’t usually see that part of you…

Wait! You were going to let that bastard work on your side and hip?

Yes, now they’re a bastard.

Because they were going to have you basically stripped down on their table with their hands all over you and my art… my…

Wait… You were getting my art tattooed on you.

[laughs] So what? Are you joking?

I remember drawing this for you…

Yes, I do. I drew this for your birthday that first year we met, right after I moved in.

I didn’t know it was your birthday until that afternoon, so I just drew you something… [awestruck] You really kept this.

That was years ago.

You were really going to get my work tattooed on you?

[listener getting up]

No, hang on. You don’t need to bolt.

[smiling] And where are you even going? We live together.

[listener sitting back down]

Don’t pout. I can’t believe you were trying to get someone else to tattoo my art on you at my own shop.

[laughs] Yeah, yeah, I did say they were the only good artists in town…

Seriously though, why didn’t you just ask me? You know I would have done it in a heartbeat, right?

Of course, I would! I’ve been dropping hints about tattooing you since we met!

[paper sound] I can draw you something new, if you want. Anything you want.

Why not?

Are you…blushing?

Okay. Obviously, I’m just seeing things then.

…Special? [paper sounds, looking at it again] It’s special to you…

[pause]

Do you want me to do it then?

Yeah, of course, I mean it.

I mean, if you really don’t want me to…then I can send them back in.

[huffs a laugh] Yeah, the bastard… I would let them do my art if that’s what you really want. But I’d rather do it myself.

Because it’s mine. Because you’re… You.

Okay? [smiling] Okay. Great.

[putting on gloves] Show me where you want it.

Don’t get shy now…

[clothing rustling as listener takes off their shirt]

[sighs]

What? Nothing. Which side did you want it on?

[touching skin] Here? Down… Okay, stand up and push your pants down your hips.

Yeah, there. I need to clean the area first.

[spray. wiping. laughs] Yeah, it’s cold. Hang on.

[paper sounds. peeling the paper off] Okay, the stencil is on.

Take a look in the mirror real quick and make sure you like the placement.

Yeah?

Great. [pats the padded table] On your side, facing me.

[listener getting settled]

You’re going to be okay. Deep breaths.

[fiddling with equipment]

Okay, I’m going to start with the outline. This isn’t going to feel great, but you can take it.

That being said…if you need a break just let me know, okay? No shame in tapping out.

…Why are you blushing?

No reason… okay.

[machine hum]

Don’t move.

[starts working. background sounds and machine sounds for a bit]

What?

Oh. No, it’s my day off. I don’t have anyone else waiting or anything.

And don’t think I failed to notice how you plotted to come in when I wasn’t here.

Yes, plotted.

Don’t try to change the subject.

I came in because I still had some boring shit to get done after I skipped out early the other night.

[laughs] Yeah, I guess you could say I cut out for a hot date. I was taking you to that movie you had to see on opening night.

Yeah, that shut you up…

Oh, you wouldn’t call that a date?

What the hell would you call it? I picked you up…

Yes, we do live together. That did make it easier.

I bought you dinner.

Popcorn counts when the bucket is bigger than your head.

[machine and background sound stretch while speaker thinks and works]

So…why this one?

This sketch. Why did you decide to get this tattooed?

[laughs a little, focused on the work] Yeah, I did say people usually get something meaningful to them.

You…wanted it to be permanent?

[working]

You know I’m permanent, right?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy you want the tattoo. I’m fucking thrilled to put my art on you, and I would gladly give you a dozen more, but you know you don’t need to have something permanent from me, right?

Yeah… People leave. But I’m not going to leave you.

No. You know I don’t say things I don’t mean.

I’m not going anywhere.

[another stretch of machine sounds and background sounds]

Do you mind if I add some freehand or do you want it exactly like the image?

Yeah?

Cool.

You know this is going to take a couple sessions, right?

[laughs] Yeah, some people could sit for the whole thing at once, but you can only sit still for so long.

No, I know you, you only sit this still when you’re scared or flirting…

[realization] And I know you’re not scared of me…

Hm? I’m not saying anything.

But you did hang on to this drawing for three years.

[getting serious] Roomie…

[surprise when listener starts to move] No, seriously, don’t move.

[another pause while the machine hums/background]

[soft spoken] You have no idea what it means to me to put this on you.

Yeah, I’ve done a lot of tattoos, but this is you.

The idea of my work on your skin? Permanently?

That you wanted me permanently with you…

That’s what you’re saying, right?

[happy sigh] Yeah. Yeah, I want that too.

You know, I’d say we need to work on your communication skills but this kind of works for me… Just, you know, don’t ask other people to do the tattooing, next time?

[laughs] No, you’re right, I’m not usually the jealous type but this is different. I wouldn’t trust anyone else to do it.

Because.

Because… It’s you.

Now, hold still or I’m going to screw up your first tattoo.

[aqua-the-smiter]

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦୨୧✦•······················•✦•······················•✦ ℑ𝔯𝔬𝔫 ℌ𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔰 Ferrus Manus x female oc (Argena Seeva) Other parts in the reblogs Ferrus, in a bid to one up his pain-in-the-ass brother Fulgrim, takes up drawing. Gets some reference help from his long suffering friend and senechal, Argena. Part of my AU I have cleverly called the Primarch Wife AU. Happy endings, the boys get the help they need, Big E is a good dad and, most importantly, everybody gets a wife. Because big husband and small wife makes brain go brr

Sexual content/NSFW after the cut - Very lewd-but-not-lewd touching, Ferrus jacking off to his future wife while trying to get work done, idiots in love. @thevoidscreams @pringles-plaguehaus ✦•······················•✦•······················•✦୨୧✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊ “Gena?” Ferrus asked, sounding uncharacteristically nervous. “I have a…strange favor to ask of you.” Argena put down the loop of silver she’d been polishing and turned around on her stool to face him as she heard him out. Throne, he even looked uncomfortable, and she wondered what exactly he needed that he was looking so hot under the collar. Ferrus Manus was many things, but wavering was not one of them. Actually he was kind of cute like that. She mentally slapped herself almost as soon as the thought crossed her mind. HE. IS. YOUR. BOSS. She’d been with him for over a year and half at this point. It felt like it should have been longer. Falling into the role of his senechal had been so easy after a while. Especially after they’d started spending more time simply enjoying each other’s company. He was a surprisingly layered man once he opened up enough to show it. And, she heavily suspected, a lonely one too. So they’d gotten close more easily than she would have first thought. It even showed in the way he addressed her. Gena, a more tender nickname than her given. “Does it have anything to do with your ongoing attempts to one up your brother?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It does, yes. Look, I can’t help it. Fulgrim has been driving me mad recently, so I want to pay him back in kind.” “I know, I know. And if you pull it off you’ll make him absolutely seethe.” “It” in question was Ferrus putting a serious effort into learning how to draw. He could already, but it was an entirely different kind. Technical drawings, machine blueprints, weapon schematics. Nothing really artistic, although it could be counted as a form of art in its own right if you asked her. Watching him work was hypnotic, the movement of the pencil or stylus in his metal hands impossibly graceful. Elegant even. But most people didn’t see it that way. Resident artsy fuck, Fulgrim, certainly didn’t. Constantly making little jabs and jokes at his best friend’s inability to produce anything else than purely practical drawings. Finally, Ferrus had enough and announced to her in private that he was going to produce a piece of actual art better than anything Fulgrim could do (and he wasn’t as good as everyone thought he was, including himself) out of pure brotherly spite. The early results were rough, but promising. Argena herself had quite a bit of skill, picked up from her goldsmithing hobby, and he’d come to her with practice sketches, rudimentary shapes and simple three dimensional objects. It took him a while, but he was definitely getting it. His talent for technical drawings was beginning to shine through with the clean linework. In short, it seemed he might actually do it. “That is the goal.” He said, just a little smug. “So what do you need me for, pray tell my lord?” She prompted. The Primarch seemed to steel himself for a moment. “Well…I feel I’m ready to move on to…organic materials now. I can only draw my own tools so much before I cease to learn any more from the exercise. I was going to ask if I could study you. Your anatomy, I mean.” And it already sounded like that would involve less clothes than she started with that day. “...Study my anatomy? How so? Moreover, why?”

“Feel up your body. Your muscles, skeletal structure, general build. How everything connects and moves together. I find that I learn best when I am up to the elbows in it so to speak, so being able to touch it would be the best thing. You are the only person I feel comfortable coming to with this. It is, ultimately, quite a petty thing I’m after. You have been very understanding of me. More than I thought would be possible.” Ferrus paused for a moment, wondering if what he had to say next was even a good idea before deciding he’d take that chance. “Also, you are objectively a very beautiful woman. Whatever someone’s personal tastes may be, nobody could look at you and deny it. And subjectively, I think you are a beautiful woman. For those reasons you’d make the best subject for what I’m trying to accomplish. If the goal of art is to create something pleasing to the eye, something that captures the beauty of the world and the enthusiasm of the creator in a still image, you would be a perfect basis. Not like the mess of colors and lines Fulgrim throws on his canvases.” He spoke so frankly. Ferrus was always a very no-nonsense type of person, but to have that direct, blunt nature used in such a glowing description of her was something else entirely. Because you knew for a fact when he said something, he meant it. It made her feel very warm inside. “And this is purely for research, right?” She asked tentatively. “Purely objective.” He swore. “And I won’t go any farther than you want or touch you anywhere you don’t want to be touched. I’ll fill in any gaps in my knowledge with an anatomy book. Just tell me where to stop, and I will.” Somehow a Primarch who’d grown up in the wilderness eating sand had a better concept of boundaries than many people. “Well...I trust you, so I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.” She said after a moment, rubbing her upper arm. “I’m willing. Let’s do it.” He gave her one of his rare smiles (that seemed to be becoming less rare nowadays come to think of it), genuinely grateful. It made her feel more at ease with the agreement. Who knows, it might even be fun. ₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - March 10 - Week 10

I’m late, I’m sorry! Spent all of yesterday in a haze of senior pictures for my kid, and I’m still not sure what day it is--ANYWAY! Here is this week’s reads--enjoy and be sure to drop a comment/kudos for your author! 

~

business affairs by meidui

It’s two years of wanting him the way he hasn’t wanted Emma since their honeymoon to the pearl of the Pacific, eighteen months of Steve slipping into his hotel suite on business trips away from the prying eyes of New York, and twelve months of staying late after the cleaning staff clock out because Steve will ride him behind his desk with the door unlocked.

my thoughts: i’m a sucker for infidelity fics, and this one is just--very soft and tony’s love of steve and conflict with Emma, and the way that he focuses on Steve’s emotions over Emma’s was everything to me. 

Clint Barton's Super Secret Snipers' Club by sara_holmes

Clint Barton's Super Secret Snipers' Club. (Invitation and pending mental health evaluation required.)

"When Steve brings Bucky back to the tower for the first time, Clint’s first thought is that Tony Stark’s pride and joy is quickly becoming a less of a very tall and expensive ‘fuck you’ in the faces of investors who don’t believe in self-sustaining energy, and more of a superhero rehabilitation center."

Boyfriends, compromises and learning to like oneself.

my thoughts: this is more focused on winterhawk than stevetony but what I LOVED about the stevetony background ship is how it looks at Steve as human, and the weight of juggling Bucky’s recovery and his ongoing relationship with Tony. Everyone of them--Steve, Tony, Bucky and Clint--are flawed and this fic doesn’t flinch away from that, but rather examines it in a real real and lovely way. The scene where Steve is sobbing in Tony’s lap is heartbreaking and beautiful. 

The Scars of Your Love by blue_jack

On the day Peggy moved out, Steve stood naked in front of the mirror and looked at all the ragged lines running over his body. He felt like someone had taken a knife to him, slicing every inch open, and he didn’t understand how there wasn’t any blood. He traced one particularly thick scar on his stomach, gritting his teeth against the pain, the memory of the first time he’d brought Peggy over to meet his family and all the teasing that had accompanied it burning through his mind. He couldn’t imagine her marks ever disappearing, and in that moment, he didn’t want them to, didn’t want to ever expose himself to that much hurt again. Once in a lifetime was enough.

my thoughts: oh this was so lovely. The idea of heartbreak causing physical scars was gorgeously executed.

Hot Stuff by sayah1112

Steve is an art major who can’t stop drawing his muse. The problem is his muse…is a stranger he met randomly on the street.

my thoughts: this Tony was so adorable and Steve was so besotted--perfection. 

Draw Me by sayah1112

“Draw me like one of your French girls, Cap.”

Tony, Steve thought with cheeks burning a brilliant shade of red that was bright and deep enough to match the shimmering paint of Ironman’s armor, was a little shit.

Such a little shit.

Only Tony could turn a lost bet into a punishment for the winning party.

Steve had won, he thought furiously as his hand moved across the parchment paper, the blunt pads of his fingers dusted with charcoal. His fingers sketched out a form that he knew from memory. That devious curl of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips, the way a lock of hair fell across his brow despite his best efforts to keep it tamed. The sharp line of his jaw, strong and willful, the arch of his brow as it lifted in mocking censure. Steve knew every curve and divot of that face from memory. Making this bet a really unnecessary one.

--

Or that one where Steve edges us all. A quick and dirty one-shot

my thoughts: I’m a sucker for artist Steve. It was delightful. 

The Storm by sayah1112

Steve and Tony haven't seen eye to eye in a long time. Once inseparable, the two can no longer stand the sight of each other. But when he gets a call from Natasha telling him that there is something seriously wrong with his ex-lover, Tony rushes out into the wilds of Maine to meet her.

Only...there's a blizzard. And when he finally reaches the cabin, it's not Natasha there waiting for him. But Steve himself.

Crafty Russian.

my thoughts: I super love the drop everything for my ex trope and this is EVERYTHING. 

with your own two hands by Thahire 

There’s nothing quite like sitting still and letting Tony shave him, careful, precise strokes against his jaw and throat. Nothing quite like carefully washing Tony’s lovely hair while he sits and chatters away about his newest invention.

Steve and Tony take a bath together after a hard day’s work.

my thoughts: 1872 is such a depressing verse for the most part, and this one was very soft and gentle and I loved it. 

The One That Got Away by lomku 

Steve Rogers wants to go on a coffee date. Maria Hill is out for the enemy’s blood. Tony Stark is arguing with himself about what to do with a certain super-soldier’s advances.

Oh, and the Skrulls are invading. Again.

my thoughts: oh this one. This was a better of a mindfuck and I really loved that because so few of them are. Read it. 

Leaves Me Wanting More by lomku 

“You’re compromised,” Romanoff tells him one day. Steve doesn’t look up from where he’s swirling the spoon in his coffee cup.

No shit, he thinks. He’s been compromised since he first met Iron Man, all these months ago. He’s been nothing but compromised.

my thoughts: Villain Tony!!! I love villain Tony and Steve being so damn soft for him. 

copacetic by starvels (dinosaur)

The man Tony spots across the market square looks just like Sheriff Rogers. When Tony catches up to the man, he moves just like Sheriff Rogers, touches Tony just like Sheriff Rogers, gets spitting mad just like Sheriff Rogers.

The problem is, Sheriff Rogers was murdered 4 months ago.

my thoughts: the 1872 angst I mentioned? Here it is. 

wolf like me by starvels (dinosaur) 

It's been a busy few days for Steve Rogers: he's been thawed from the Arctic decades after being frozen, battled a villain or two, joined a superhero team called the Avengers, and now been invited to come live at their new base of operations.

There's just one little thing they forgot to mention, and Steve can smell it the second he gets inside the mansion: there's another werewolf who lives inside.

my thoughts: I really love the sense of desperation that starvels conveyed in this and in steve finding someone like himself. It was gorgeous. 

Confessions by Neverever 

Tony is perfectly okay with his crush on Steve. But then Peter tells him that Steve might be in love with Tony. That can't be right, Tony thinks and needs to find out the true answer.

my thoughts: the oblivious pining is everything. Perfect. 

what a way to lose (all of you) by tinystark616 

On the night that the Superhuman Registration Act becomes law, Steve shows up in Tony's penthouse.

my thoughts: love this angsty beautiful sad thing. 

The Billionaire Hooker's Deceived Artist by tsukinofaerii

During Tony's senior year at MIT, his partying habit finally hit the edge of his parents' patience. When Howard and Maria cut him off from his usual sources of money, he decides to turn to less conventional ones.

my thoughts: This is a reread, but a favorite. Love the identity porn and just how soft both of them are.