#but at least you can draw pants easier

[tooni-the-demon-gal]

drew a bunch of boardwalk empire characters bc somehow i've only been able to draw al and charlie consistently despite being hyperfixated on the show for at least a year. i still have room on the page so i'll probably draw ralph n frank later. i'm also open to recommendations so if there's a character you want drawn hit me up. i'm planning on drawing a bunch of kaiju next so stay turned for that too.

[nyatbinary-81]

@vulpixisananimal sifstem art jumpscare!! more specifically i got bored and decided to mess around with sif and mal's outfits.

[randomshyperson]

Heart Drawing - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: Dinner with Mr. Heart takes a different turn. Or, what anyone who wasn't a synthezoid would have done at the sight of Wanda in that dress.

Warnings: (+18), purely smut, bottom!Wanda (bratty), rough smut, creampie, strap-on, fingering and oral (w rec),  Westview setting, established relationship, kinda semi-public (?), almost getting caught but Wanda keeps doing magic tricks | Words: 1.169k

A/N-> I can't believe I finally wrote this, it's a fixing of the scene from WandaVision because I always thought it was unbelievable. If Wanda prepared a romantic dinner for me, especially wearing that, there would be no dinner at all. A good Wandavision anniversary for all of us btw <3

General Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3

-&-

Although it was one of the skills she developed first, mental control could be very difficult. Especially if Wanda was experiencing some other strong emotion, such as stress, anger, or sadness. 

Or physical exertion, like a fight with an alien or lifting machines or the like. 

Or just being so close to cumming in the middle of the kitchen.

And you, well, you weren't making it any easier for her. Your hips never faltered in their brutal rhythm against her and every time the fake cock attached to your waist slid between her tight walls, Wanda had the impression that even the magic around the house was failing. 

Her eyes were still red, though - Wanda is still surprised that she has any control when you slide your fingers down to tug at her neglected clit and she's forced to muffle her whimper with a bite on your shoulder.

She's sure she won't be able to keep the two guests static in the kitchen if you keep this up. But the soft protest is little more than a choke; "S-slow down, detka" she gasps directly into your ear.

You adjust the angle, and your hips slow down, but god, you thrust hard enough for the kitchen counter to crack. The dress she called a surprise barely hanging on her body is pushed down even further with the rough motions and Wanda won't be surprised if the the magic fails her once and for all with the reach of her orgasm.

She wasn't complaining, after all, this was the whole point of the night. A misunderstanding about a heart drawn on the calendar had led her to believe that tonight would be an anniversary (of which, she and Agnes came to no conclusion, and Wanda preferred to pretend it was supposed to be a wedding one). She got chocolate fruit and a dress that made you ignore your boss in the other room and force her against the counter as soon as you caught the first glimpse of her cleavage.

Wanda tried to be the voice of reason, even if her voice was hoarse and not very determined. She asked you; "What about them?" but all you did was give her a dirty little smile as you unbuttoned your pants.

"Play your tricks, my lovely little witch." That's what you whispered before sliding into her in probably the only gentle thrust of the night, and well, we're back to the beginning.

Wanda being fucked roughly on the counter in the kitchen while trying to keep the two guests in the living room.

She doesn't know, or think she doesn't know, at least not consciously about how that toy ended up inside your pants. She doesn't think about it, nor about when your hips start to buck and how when you come first, she can feel something hot squirting inside her. She can only mew in arousal, feeling your weight fall on her as you return your movements, faster than before making it impossible for her to hold back any longer. Your mouth finds hers again, and you swallow every dirty moan she lets out as she finally reaches her climax a moment later.

The kitchen, perhaps the whole city, shakes with the force of this orgasm. Wanda doesn't notice, but you're kind of mesmerized by the whole thing. She doesn't even realize she has lost control, still panting and soft under your body but you hear footsteps approaching.

It's your powers that keep the kitchen door tightly shut, and Wanda blinks exhaustedly at the knocks.

"I'll tell them dinner's canceled." You murmur, kissing her cheek before pulling out, the act drawing a gasp from the other. Wanda forces her body to react when you make mention of moving away, her legs hooking behind your knees while she gestures in the air with her fingers glowing red.

"They'll find their way on their own." That's what she says before pressing her mouth to yours again. You smiled into the kiss, saving a mental note to comment that you'd probably lose your job for this. But those were problems for later; right now, you were focused on your darling wife moaning on your tongue.

Your kisses descended to her collarbone, marking the skin gently as Wanda struggled to breathe. Your body soon followed the lead, and you ended up on your knees on the kitchen floor with your face between her legs, taking a moment just to admire the image of Wanda's pussy leaking your mixed cum. 

Your breathing against her was driving her crazy, she moved her hips forward, one of her hands grabbing a handful of your hair and trying to pull you in, but you fought back. Wanda meowed in protest.

"Please." It didn't sound much like begging, and you raised your eyes to her. Wanda blushed heavily at the image but tried to bait you by moving her free fingers to her own pussy, spreading the wetness before sinking a finger in. She whimpered before teasing; "Come on baby, I know you want a taste."

You bite your tongue, but you can't contain the shuddering of your body and Wanda smiles at you, a finger teasing its way in. You try not to fall for it but she mewls as she pushes her finger further inside and you curse quietly before you take action. Your hand pushes hers away, and you sink your face into her pussy before Wanda can complain; she chokes on a moan, her back arching on the counter as you eat her out in hungry determination. Your hands grip her thighs wide open and Wanda struggles to control the sounds, trying to find some ground as she clutches your hair, but all it serves for is to keep your head in place as she grinds harshly against your face.

She is almost robbed of her orgasm the next moment when there is a knock at the back door. It's she who is startled, failing in her movements towards your face, but you groan in frustration at the interruption and instead of stopping the whole thing, the vibration takes Wanda over the edge, and she has to cover her mouth with her hand to avoid the sound that escapes her as the climax washes over her.

She's still trembling on the counter when you stand up, a mess of cum running down your chin that you wipe off with the back of your hand, which Wanda watches with exhausted eyes as you lick it clean a moment later.

"I'll send her away." You mutter, evidently against your will to get off her. When Wanda mentions protesting, you offer her a wink, your hands busy hiding the toy back in your pants. " We'll carry on upstairs."

She tries to stand up on shaky legs while you answer the back door to the nosy neighbor. By now, Wanda's mind is so dizzy from a good fuck that she doesn't even care if Agnes was able to hear anything.

[allfearstofallto]

Illusion

Yandere! Lyney x Fem,Dancer! Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: if this story seems similar to "I wonder if you look both ways..." It's cause this is the original. I scrapped it, but when reading it again I realized that I was very stupid to do that cause I like it. They're sisters, but not twins, they both can be enjoyed.

A magician's job is to lie. To convince you that there are wonders of the world that the human eye can't decipher. To entertain and entrance an audience of people, all while they stare in awe. Their eyes having a look of simultaneous confusion and scrutiny, they'd try to pick the trick apart, only to fail and be even more impressed by their inability to solve the puzzle. The job of a magician is to endure all of that inspection from prying eyes, but still make it look captivating.

Your job was to draw attention. That's what Lyney told you the day you were hired. They were set to perform at the opera house again, the biggest stage in Fontaine, but this time it would be an even more grand performance, this time, there would be no issues. With an area so large, they needed to maximize as much space as possible, there didn't need to be a moment of time where the audience had to question what was coming next. That's where you came in.

When the music came to a crescendo, cymbals crashing and violins singing at their loudest harmony, you'd be dancing, leaping all over. Graceful as a swan, but with enthusiasm that made your moves look more playful. Hopefully that would be enough to keep the eyes on you as Lyney rushed to the other side of the stage to complete the performance in an escalation.

You'd never done something like this before. Actually, you'd never danced professionally. Not yet at least. This would be your first real show. A fresh face right out of ballet school with nothing to your name, but a few school performances, none of which you were granted the leading role for. Who would give you a chance? Who else, but Lyney and Lynette who needed a dancer on rather short notice.

Lyney, who said your dancing was mesmerizing. But not in his usual, eccentric voice that would draw the crowd. He was talking quietly, in a breathless whisper as he spoke. Mesmerizing. His eyes glued onto your form as you panted after your audition, wide and entranced. You gave them a nervous bow and a heartfelt appreciation before exiting stage left. What you felt like was a mediocre performance where you messed up too much, was what landed you your first real gig.

Your choreo was simple, most of it you came up with yourself, with the twins giving minor input here and there. Raise your leg here, jump there, when you twirl, go in this direction. It was much easier than the strict, uptight teachings of school, where your instructors insisted that the real world would be harsher than they were. You weren't needed for a good majority of the performance, so nothing especially skillful was required until the very end.

“I'd like to see an addition to our set,” Lyney announced. His hands on his hips, he spoke proudly, but while sneaking quick glances towards you, “I feel like we're not utilizing our new resident dancer enough. I think we need to add a slight change to the choreography.”

There was no issue with this, they were your employers after all. You did your best to make it known to them that you were flexible in every aspect. It was their show. Anything they needed to be done, you'd do your best to accommodate.

The move the blond added was simple. As you stood on your toes on one foot, your other leg would be out straight behind you. Lyney would step forward to take your hand, then he would walk around you, turning you both in a slow circle while addressing the audience to prepare them for his next illusion. Like a ballerina trapped in a music box, you spun to the creeping swell of the music alongside him.

The addition was not even close to difficult, a move you'd done a million times before and would probably do a million more in the future. But this was the first time that you'd touched Lyney. The separation between you two gave you no reason to do so. His hands were cold, yet clammy and it was only when you were this close to him, that you noticed he smelled of plums. You could feel his heart beating in his fingertips and even see a little sweat on his forehead, you chalked it up to nerves though. Even those who have performed a thousand times before can fall victim to tension.

“Would you mind if I put my hand on your waist when we did that move,” he asked you one day between practices. He was hesitating, but still playing up his confident attitude.

A hand on your waist was nothing. You'd had to be close to other dancers plenty of times, and the turn did look a bit awkward with Lyney just having his hand at his side, but you thought that that would be the ample time for him to do a quick card trick or sleight of hands to spice things up, “That would be alright.”

The turn was practiced with the change. To you it felt no different, like an average day back at the academy. The real difference was Lyney himself. With that gentle hand on your waist, so soft it felt like he was hovering his hand over your body and not touching you at all. His cheeks had reddened, the first time you'd ever seen the great magician Lyney blush and you could feel him trembling, but just barely, like he was shivering from cold.

Eye contact with your partner is good when you're dancing a duet. It gives the appearance of chemistry, but eye contact with a crowd is mandatory when engaging with them. Despite this, for the entire duration of the turn, Lyney’s vibrant purple eyes would be locked with yours, not looking away for a second, not until the spin was complete and it was time for your solo.

Even you couldn't bring yourself to hold his gaze, not with the strange way he was smirking. Midway through the spin, when your back was facing the audience, you'd look down to not have to be staring at him anymore, a move that made him squeeze your hand to the point of causing pain. You held back a yelp to keep from causing a scene, it was an accident, it had to have been. He wasn't realizing his own strength.

When he let go, you began your energetic dance, twirling around the floor while music vibrated at your feet. You could hear the sound of Lyney's prop going off, the signal that the song would end in a triumphant climax and the show was over. You dropped from your ending pose and turned to see the remnants of the ending. Realization hitting you that the confetti had fired, but Lyney wasn't there.

Rather, he was still close to you, having only taken two steps back and seemingly frozen in place right there. Lyney had missed his cue. He was a perfectionist. Even though he knew things would and could go wrong, and he was a bit of a stickler when it came to things like this. It was the big moments, the parts where the audience would be in the most awe. With flashes, pops, and bangs to draw their attention, then he'd be there to take the brunt of the cheers. These moments were some of the most important.

The way he stood there behind you, eyes on you like you'd put a spell on him. Barely moving, barely blinking, like he was trying to drink in every piece for your form. He shook himself from this trance rather quickly, giving an embarrassed smile, “It appears that I've fallen for the distraction,” he laughed rather brazenly, “Well at least we know she's good at taking the attention! Let's take a break and start from the top again, yeah?”

There was a unanimous choir of groans that filled the room while Lyney chuckled. You were rather grateful for the break. You needed a moment to breathe and collect yourself. Most importantly, to think of what had just happened. The rational part of your brain wanted to tell you that you were overthinking, that Lyney wasn't acting strange at all, but the paranoid part of you couldn't help, but notice the way he stared. Not just when you were dancing, but whenever he got the chance to.

You'd look over and see bright purple eyes on you, seemingly unblinking. If you caught him in the act he'd give you a smile and a wave, making you feel as if you'd misunderstood. But that didn't stop the sinking feeling in your chest, he was acting normal, but intuition was telling you that something was off.

Almost as if he knew you were thinking of him, Lyney appeared. He stood a little too close to you, that gentle smile on his face. “Sorry for messing up back there,” he whined a little, then rested his head on your shoulder.

You flinched from his touch and tried to step away from him, but his arm snaked itself around your waist before you could. And Lyney was much much stronger than he looked. A nervous chuckle left your lips.

“It's alright, it's just practice after all,” you assured him.

“You're right,” he sighed. It felt like his hand was sinking, lowering to your hip while he continued the casual conversation, “I just want to impress you.”

Words got caught in your throat as you tried to choke up a response. What were you supposed to say? What could you say? A part of you wanted to brush this off as flirting, maybe you'd given him the wrong impression with something you'd said or done, but you couldn't even open your mouth to tell him otherwise.

“I have something for you,” Lyney gave a signature grin, lifting his hat from his head. Almost immediately a few cards fluttered down onto the floor around him while he gave them a confused, almost embarrassed stare, “Well that's not right,” he joked. He was performing. Right in front of you, Lyney was putting on a little show to charm you. Reaching into his pockets and pulling out much too large objects, only to magically put them back while cursing comically.

“There we go!” He cheered while holding a single rose that he'd managed to yank from his sleeve. He reached it out to you, waiting for you to grab it. The bud was surprisingly real, usually this trick was performed with fake flowers, the real ones would die too quickly. When you went to take it, he flicked the flower, making that singular rose turn into a bouquet. So close to the magic, but your mind couldn't decipher how he'd done it, even you were dumbfounded, “One isn't enough for you.”

You held the bouquet in awe as Lyney walked away proudly. He stepped backwards the whole time, not taking his eye off of you for a second until practice was set to start again, but this practice was different. He was finding more and more ways to sneak glances at you and more ways to brush up against and touch you.

The day of the performance was one that was considered nice in Fontaine. There was rain, but it was a light drizzle, light tears from the hydro dragon. It was believed that a good performance on this day would cheer him up.

And a good performance Lyney was set to give. You were backstage in a costume so tight it practically corrected your already good posture, and with so many sparkles, you were convinced that if the lights hit you the wrong way it'd blind the audience. He was most impressed with what he'd chosen for you to wear, stealing glances at you as you went through the choreo once more.

The lights felt hot. That's all you focus on as the show began. The acclaim of the crowd blended in with the vibrant music and the only thing you could think about were how hot the lights were. But you still performed. Your simple moves first. Light spins and little jumps, placeholders as Lyney and Lynette mesmerized the audience.

You did your best to keep up, they seemed to be performing even stronger now that there was focus on them. Your heart was pounding as the time came closer and closer to your solo, the idea of messing up suddenly grazed your mind. But before your solo, there was Lyney.

He stepped up to you, not looking away for a second. His chest was rising and falling rather quickly, he was tiring himself out, but his actions were still fluid. You reached your hand out for him to take and he did, just as you'd practiced.

Only this time before the turn began, he lifted your hand to his lips, placing a kiss against it. The urge to snatch your hand away was crushing. Confusion and fear filled your head. This wasn't a part of the show. This was never practiced before. Had something changed without being announced to you?

“Everyone! Thank you for coming tonight,” Lyney called to the audience followed by a round of applause for him, “The next trick will be my last and I'm so sorry to leave such a gorgeous crowd, but I want everyone to give a round of applause to my ma chérie! Thank her for being here as well!”

Your eyes danced around in confusion, trying to find who he was talking about as the crowd erupted into a symphony of cheers, only to realize that he was looking at you. To pour more salt into the wound and reiterate that he was talking about you, he lifted the hand he was holding, an action you could only let him do as bewilderment set in.

With those vibrant eyes still on you, he faced you, still smirking. He grabbed you by the waist then pulled you towards him, leaning down to place a kiss upon your lips. You couldn't hear anything over the cheers and screams of the audience, couldn't even hear your own heartbeat. But you felt it. Felt that heavy pounding as Lyney stroked your cheek in a romantic gesture before marching off to complete the set.

The music. As your head swirled and your eyes lost focus, you tried to pay attention to the music. It was time for your solo. You danced. Danced like hell, danced the choreo you created as the music swelled. But it wasn't really you dancing, more muscle memory than thought. And then it was over. Lyney appeared on the other side of the room, confetti was fired, and there was a standing ovation from the crowd. Everything was perfect.

Everything except your fearful face. The tears your eyes. Your look of worry as you looked back at your fellow members, then taking their bows as the curtain fell. They seemed so normal about what happened.

“What the hell was that?” You managed to ask, but instead you were only met with confused looks.

“What ever could you mean, ma chérie?” Lyney had taken your hand, but you pulled it back quickly, the watchful eyes of the audience no longer swaying you.

“This!” You gasped. You felt crazy trying to motion to everything around you, everything that was wrong, “All of this! You kissed me out there!”

“What's the problem with that?” It was Lynette talking now, her usual calm demeanor not seeming to be perturbed by your hysteria, “A kiss was always in the script.”

You gulped down saliva, trying to stop your beating heart and shallow breathing. Everyone was so calm and collected. Yet here you were, confused and practically causing a scene.

“Are you alright, ma chérie,” Lyney asked, stroking your cheek again. There was a look of genuine worry on his face, but all you could think about was that name. That fucking name. Has he always called you that? “You seem rather upset? What bothers you?”

“None of this is making sense,” you muttered. But you weren't really talking to him, more trying to calm yourself. Being surrounded by people who insisted upon lying to you was making doubt swirl in your mind. Had you misunderstood something? Were you truly the one confused? In your heart of hearts, you knew the truth, yet here you were, still being told otherwise.

Around you everyone was doing as normal. The stage hands had already begun packing up, with you standing there dumbfounded. You're sure you would've stood there until the end of time, had Lyney not taken your hand and begun to pull you out of the opera house.

The air of fontaine still had that salty smell to it, but the light drizzle had stopped. Your performance had pleased the hydro dragon, you supposed, yet you now were the one with tears in your eyes.

“I was thinking, ma chérie, how about you join our troupe permanently,” Lyney’s voice sounded like he was underwater in your ears, yet you somehow understood him perfectly. His question was just giving you the illusion of choice as you knew the answer he was going to make you take. A magician’s job is to lie, after all.

[merbear25]

A place to sneak away to

You'd think being away together on a mission would make everything easier, but as you've come to understand, it has it's fair share of drawbacks. Seeing him in battle was casting a spell of lust over you; the swift motions and the ruthlessness of his attacks were making your heart flutter. As inconvenient as it was, you needed him now.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, gn!reader, public sex, established relationship

Sanji, Zoro, Law

Sanji: public restroom. Sanji was in the same boat as you in terms of his delusions of how wonderful it would be to spend each moment right beside you on a mission. Being there to protect you, your knight in shinning armor, having you swoon over him: all of which were shattered by the rude awakening of reality. He still loved being able to protect you yet had hoped there would've been more chances for cheeky kisses and passionate embraces.

The last fight caught the both of you off guard. You and him were on the same wave length, however, and managed to fend off the attackers. Taking a moment to get his bearings, he shifted his attention to you. He'd be lying if he wasn't taken by surprise at least a little bit by the desire looming behind your eyes.

When you rushed towards him, he instinctively held out his arms to catch you. Your kiss met him with such force that it nearly made him stumble backwards. Gripping his collar, you let him in on your intentions. Hearing how much you needed him just as much as he needed you made this man yank you into the closest building so quickly that you could barely comprehend what was happening.

He managed to immediately scout out the restrooms and practically dragged you to them. After promptly locking the door, the fire that'd been building between the two of you was finally being given the chance to burn hot and bright. The embers from it were heating your bodies, leaving your cheeks flushed.

Despite him being a rather gentle lover, he was pawing at you in despiration as he squeezed your hips and ass tightly. He tugged your pants down and you returned his eagerness. A few strokes from you was enough to edge him; he'd already been waiting far too long and would not stand to wait a moment longer. Easing you up on the sink, he shoves himself as deep as he can within you, being sure to catch the moans seeping out of you with a loving kiss.

Zoro: alleyway. He's determined to complete the mission, which means his mind hasn't been wandering like yours. The both of you had been fending off enemies left and right, but you were making rookie mistakes―leaving yourself open to attack being the most potentially fatal. Your imagination was starting to hinder your abilites in combat, drawing his attention to you in a much less favorable way than you'd wanted.

Expressing his annoyance with you, the shouting was underlined with a tone of concern. He was, of course, very protective of you, and what would that mean for him if you got injured and he couldn't save you? No, he wasn't having any of that. He demanded to know what'd gotten into you.

Knowing that you'd caused him distress for your safety, you felt slightly embarrassed by your lude thoughts. You leaned in closer and told him in a hushed voice what'd been causing your slip-ups. He snapped back and scoffed, thinking how you could possibly let something so trivial impede your survival in battle.

Taking a moment to process your confession, he then scanned the area and settled on an alleyway. He led you there, forcing you to quicken your pace so that you wouldn't be dragged by him.

It was still broad daylight and plenty of people were still out on the streets, though he figured if you were reckless enough to endanger yourself, you'd be reckless for just about anything.

He pinned you firmly against the brick wall and wasted no time in unleashing his already stiffened length. Without needing instruction, you followed his lead. However, you were met with a low grunt and a swift slap of your hand when you attempted to touch him. Forcing you to turn around, he dragged you both closer to the ground, hiding your indecency behind the dumpster. "If you want to act like a dirty whore, then I'll treat you like one," he hissed in your ear and ruthlessly forced his way into you.

Law: cave. These urges of yours could not have come at a more troublesome time. Not only did you feel forced to suppress them because you knew Law would outright reject the idea of doing anything sexual in the jungle, but your mission involved gathering information from the nearby navy base. Such misfortune was leaving you in a mental fog and in need of an outlet for release. You started making careless mistakes, which then earned you a spiteful glare from him.

Cornering you after narrowly escaping being captured by the marines, he pressed you for answers as to why you were acting like such a fool. Feeling more on edge from the confrontation, you suddenly blurted out the honest reason.

Despite his scowl burrowing into the depths of your soul, a faint hue appeared on his face. He clentched his fists and let out an exasperated sigh. As you watched him turn away from you, you worried if you'd been acting too out of turn for his liking. However, just as you were starting to berate yourself, you heard his stern command for you to follow him.

He was still avoiding direct eye contact and wearing a frown, even though the redness on his cheeks had deepened. Pointing at a nearby cave, he motioned for you to follow. You were trailing behind and upon reaching the entrance, he hastily pulled you inside.

Although he was getting more and more noticeably worked up, he made it known that this was only to shut you up, "If this is the only thing that will make you focus on our mission, so be it."

Your body was finally getting the touch it'd been craving, causing you to be too noisy given the circumstances. He clasped his hand over your mouth and bit down on your neck in an attempt to silence you, "Shut up," he warned. Then after promptly folding you into a mating press, he harshly bucked himself inside you.

[isatartdump]

You draw them all so cool!!! And awesome!! But is that top surgery scars on loop 👀 (sorry I’m also curious were you thinking about anything specific when you drew them in casual clothes cause they all fit the characters So Well) sorry for bothering you I love your art

YES! I think Siffrin, Loop and Isa have top scars (CAN!! Do a stretch and say Odile has them too but I am not ready to think about it, I think she'll get more butch lesbian than she already is)… Lemme talk about them and hope I don't accidentally spoil the game HA

Loop's are more like how people usually draw top surgery scars? Mostly because I draw them by joining stars up, so it KINDA looks like stars blowing up!

I believe Isa left some really small scars just for the simbolism of finally being his authentic self or something… Since in vaugarde they transition (or honestly just find new ways to become themselves both physically and mentally) by using craft so I kinda headcanon it to be like… Treating your own body like it's made out of clay, people can just opt to have no scars whatsoever. Way easier than it is IRL, haha. I wish… Also I believe he'd put some tattoos on there to be stylish and handsome and pretty but I also don't know what kind of tattoo Isa would choose to get. If I do a modern AU I might think about it…

And Siffrin I'm. I'm working on it… I don't draw them shirtless often enough to think about it… But I see them as little lines that end on a small explosion at the end. Simple but gets a point across- More so a thing to remind him of how far they've gone rather than a thing that will be seen by other people but to fair isn't this what top scars are for us sometimes? Little reminders that things get better and how far we've come?

Now that the top scar ramble is over!!!!! Onto the thinking abotu something while drawing them casual... I was mostly thinking about clothes that would fit them in a sense of like. Fitting their body shape and just generally looked like they belong in their wardrobe. It's mostly about comfort and feeling like "Yeah they went to the store and bought that pair of pants". At least in my brain.

Making them look confident and comfortable in clothes that either fit their personality or what they usually wear kinda gets the overall feeling of "Yes of course Odile would wear that" methinks :) I'd say Loop is kinda the hardest one to dress in a way that... They would dress? Since they're. Nakey nakey the entire game but then you just work with what you think this sassy motherfucker (/aff) would wear. They have an absurd amount of personality that I think would be hard to not go into how they wear clothes

Loop my beloved. Was gonna gatekeep this last one but you guys can have it :) Also you don't bother! Thank you so much for liking my little thingies <3

[magicalbats]

Oh, Captain (Luffy x reader)

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 5222

Warnings: Afab!reader, gendered language, noncon, physical coercion, outdoor sex, inappropriate use of 5th Gear

A/N: My second ever commission and the lovely donor was kind enough to give me permission to post it for everyone else to read. Thank you for a great experience, @avidbroswer!! 🩷🩷🩷

⭐

Let’s help Luffy, they’d said.  

We’re a crew, they’d said. Family. 

You don’t feel very much like family when you’re running for your life from the very captain you’d sworn loyalty to. Or at least, you’re pretty sure that the strange figure with white nimbus cloud hair is your captain. You’d watched it happen from a (questionably) safe distance, when he suddenly transformed in a surge of sparking static electricity that made your skin crawl like it was trying to escape from your bones but it’s still hard to believe that it was really him. Even having seen the reality of it with your own two eyes doesn’t make it any easier to accept. 

Luffy was supposed to be a dark haired, dark eyed youth in the prime of his life. Not this uncanny version of him that giddily laughs with boisterous amusement while he ping pongs about so violently within the craggy mess of scorched earth in the wake of his battle with Kaido that you can feel the massive chunks of rock slamming into the ground as much as you can hear it. One after another, from the left and then the right, they just keep falling in an almost continuous rain of rubble and ruin. The resulting shockwaves very nearly take you off your feet more than once but you force yourself to keep running even when your sore legs scream in protest, aching from the exertion. It was the only choice you really had at this point. 

And it’s not lost on you that this is technically your own fault for getting so close to the fight but you’d wanted to help. All that talk of family and crew, and unwavering allegiance to the Straw Hats had clearly infected your brain because you’d rushed straight into the danger zone despite knowing good and well that you were the only one close enough to make it in time. Now you were the one who needed help and it wasn’t going to arrive soon enough to do you any good. 

What an idyllic fool you’d been. 

“Ah!” You suddenly get tripped up in all the rocky debris laying across the ground and fall to your knees with a seething hiss. Your palms come back scraped where they’d shot out to catch you but you’ve managed to avoid taking the brunt of it to the face. Thank the stars for life’s smallest miracles. 

Panting heavily, you just sit there amongst the broken wreckage and detritus for a harrowingly long beat, trying to catch your breath. You can still hear the chaotic destruction of Luffy — or the man who had once been Luffy — bouncing around like a rubber ball behind you, completely unimpeded by the laws of gravity or common sense. It sounded like he was having a blast. 

Maybe that was good. Maybe he hadn’t even noticed you yet, so lost within the mess of demolished land and too tiny a speck to even draw his attention. You had a chance to escape then, if that was the case. 

Any such hopes quickly fizzle out when his uproarious hooting and hollering abruptly rushes towards you, getting louder and louder until your eardrums start to vibrate. You suck in a sharp, nauseated gasp and slap your hands over your ears as you twist around to look behind you. Just in time to watch Luffy sail overhead like a shooting white comet. The kickback from his high velocity speed hits you seconds later, tearing a shriek from your mouth when the wind hits you full force and as solid as any wall. 

Too busy ducking down with your head between your knees to protect yourself from the sting of flying rocks, you don’t get to see how he manages to pivot his momentum mid air and land a couple hundred yards away. You hear it though. You feel the shock of impact too, when it races through the ground to make the rubble underneath you tremble. It goes quiet then, and unnaturally still. Suddenly all you can hear are your own labored gasps. 

You hesitate to do it but, realizing you have no other option, you slowly lift your face to peer out over all the fallen debris. Standing at a distance, Luffy just looks at you with a fiercely manic edge in his now golden-yellow eyes that makes your veins ice up. You’re more certain than ever that this cannot be your captain. He should have been giving you the usual bright faced, happy go lucky grin he always did when he inexplicably came out on top against all the odds that were stacked against him. Not this — viscous leer of victory. 

But if this wasn’t Luffy then who in the seven seas was it? 

“Have you come to celebrate with me?” 

His voice isn’t quite the same either. More raspy, like the weight of immense power flowing through him was putting strain even on his vocal cords. You don’t think you like that any more than you like the way he’s eyeing you up as if you were a stuffed pig on a roasting spit. Even for his bottomless pit of an appetite, you’d never seen him look at another person quite like that. 

Cautiously slow, you straighten up out of your defensive huddle. Work to get your feet under you without taking your attention off him for even a moment and then stand so you can prepare to … what, run again? A lot of good that had clearly done you. 

“I don’t think it’s time to celebrate just yet.” You tell him softly. “We need to find the other Straw Hats. Make sure they’re all okay. You still remember them … don’t you, Luffy?” 

Your emotional plea only succeeds in giving him a momentary pause. “But I have so much energy left. I just want to dance and shout, and jump into the air! You’ll join me, won’t you?” 

He takes a step towards you, a rather aggressive one at that, and you quickly back up. Something told you if you didn’t agree to go along with this he was going to try and force you into joining in on whatever constituted his idea of merrymaking. Unfortunately you weren’t sure if you’d survive that, given the state of all the crumbled boulders littering the ground on this now desolate stretch of land. 

“No, Luffy. Not right now. We have to - -“ 

With an abrupt jerk, he lurches forward as if to launch himself at you. His rubbery legs momentarily struggle for traction on the ground, as if they couldn’t quite decide what consistency they wanted to be, but you don’t plan on sticking around long enough to find out. Feeling like you’ve forgotten how to breathe, you spin around and make a mad dash for it, barreling straight into a dead sprint. 

It’s a resounding effort in futility. 

You don’t even make it three whole steps before he slams into your back hard enough to take you right off your feet. 

There’s a split second moment of shock at how fast he’d managed to close the distance, and then the ground is rushing up at your face again. 

That dizzying blur of vertigo inducing free fall coupled with the way your vision tilts on its axis very nearly has you spewing your guts right then and there. But if Luffy picks up on the dire, sickened tinge coloring your wounded grunt he certainly doesn’t act it. He just flings his arms around your middle, alarming in their fleshy elasticity and yet still familiar to you, then hauls you up against his front before you can slam into the rocks. 

Everything happens much too fast for you to keep up with any of it. Your brain is reeling, still trying to recover from the impact of his body colliding with yours and the subsequent head rush that followed. So stunned you can’t even find the wherewithal to protest his treatment of you let alone try to fight your way free. Unable to do anything else, you simply allow your limbs to bonelessly flail when he takes a handful of eager steps forward with you in his arms. 

In the next moment Luffy spins you out away from him, snagging your wrist to stop your momentum and make you jerk to another abrupt standstill. The yank on your shoulder causes it to pop, splintering pain racing up your arm as you cry out. He doesn’t care though. He either doesn’t care or he doesn’t notice, because he just pulls you right back into him again, hard enough to make you collapse with a teeth rattling jolt against his chest. 

“Come on!” He laughs, loud and frenzied, his hold on you much too tight where it’s shackled around your wrist. “Dance with me! Aren’t you having fun?” 

Teeth gnashing to fight back the nausea, you bring your uncaptured hand up and brace it against his shuddering frame. You’re more than just a little surprised to find his heartbeat hammering out a sharp, almost violent staccato against his ribcage, so powerful you can feel it thrumming through his skin. It reminds you of an endless procession of war drums. Too many to count and impossibly loud, their ferocity equally intimidating and awe inspiring. 

What in the world had happened to him? 

You don’t have the privilege of lingering on that question for very long. Couldn’t afford to, as you try to get your tired legs situated under you again so you can stand on your own. “You’re hurting me, Luffy. We don’t have time for this right now. Just let me go. Please.” 

But he doesn’t even seem to register what you’re saying as a plea at all. 

A snickering, raspy laugh rattles up out of him, and you vehemently push at his narrow chest with your uncaptured hand. Shove him as hard as you can. He still doesn't budge though, simply reaching up to snag that wrist too so he can forcefully spin you around in his arms. You feel sick with the rush of motion coupled with the fatigue and throbbing pain in your body but there’s nothing you can do to stop it. He’s too strong, too wild, too lost in whatever manic high he’s slipped into after his fight with Kaido. 

Tightening his grip to lock you against his front, Luffy moulds himself to the line of your back with such an unnatural, rubbery motion that you find yourself fighting not to wretch even as his mouth finds your neck. He nuzzles at you for a brief moment, just brushing his lips over your jackhammering pulse before angling his nose towards the spot just behind your ear. The breath he draws is slow and savory, and he seems to hold it in his lungs for an unnecessarily long time. 

When he at last sighs out, displacing some of the loose flyaways in your hair, an unmistakable rumble low in his chest accompanies it. “Mmm, you smell good. Like victory.” 

What the hell was that supposed to mean? “Luffy, just listen to me … don’t do this. I - I don’t really understand what's happened to you but we can figure it out together. We’ll fix it. I promise. But you need to let me go or - -“

“Let you go? But we’re having so much fun. I want to have even more fun with you but you’re not a fighter, not like he was. And you don’t want to dance with me either.”

He sounds dangerously close to pouting when he says that last bit and you give a halfhearted twist in his hold, testing for any slack. It’s no good though. For as little effort as he seemed to be putting into it, his arms were like iron shackles where they’re criss crossed over your body. Dammit. 

“Why?” You seethe in frustration and fast mounting panic. “Why won’t you just go back to normal, Luffy? This isn’t like you!” 

His frame shakes behind you with the giggles that rise within him, making his whole body vibrate like a mercilessly shaken soda bottle. It quickly grows, rapidly multiplying and expanding until he at last throws his head back with a cackling peel of laughter aimed up at the sky. It’s much too close to your ear and deafeningly loud, reigniting your desperation to get away from him, but your wild thrashing just causes him to laugh even harder. Like he found it hilarious that you were scared and trapped against him. 

“I can’t!” He howls, belly laughing so ferociously it makes you jerk in his hold. “I can’t go back until I’ve used up all of this energy! It feels like I’m going crazy but it feels good too! Amazing even! I’ve never experienced anything like it before! I want to keep going but you can’t fight and you won’t dance with me … but there’s something else we can do together, isn’t there?” 

“What are you ta - -“

He releases you so suddenly you don’t even realize you’re crumpling to the ground until your butt has already hit the rocks, surprising a yelp out of you. Fresh pain immediately races up from your backside in a blinding starburst and you outright hiss as you gingerly start to angle yourself onto your hip in hopes of taking some of the pressure off of where it hurts the most. You don’t quite make it that far though. 

Luffy’s hands are suddenly on your shoulders, shoving you forward to sprawl out rather inelegantly on your front. He follows you down, pinning you to the destroyed ground with his body weight, and you immediately start to panic in earnest. Your captain didn’t look like much more than a lanky beanpole at first glance but he was so densely packed with muscle that he felt like a sack of bricks on top of you. It makes it hard to breathe and the quickened, gasping lungfuls of air you suck in don’t exactly help. Your chest constricts painfully tight as you struggle against him, forgetting all logic and reason in your blind desperation to get away from him. 

He doesn’t even seem to notice though, still just as unbudging sprawled out over top of you as he’d been when the two of you were standing. No amount of kicking your legs or bucking up underneath him even gives him pause, and his greedy hands fumble down to your waist where they squeeze tight enough to rip a hurt shriek from your throat. This doesn’t cut through the manic haze spurring him on either. He doesn’t even waver. 

“What are you — stop that! Have you lost your mind!” 

“I’m sorry.” He snickers, not sounding very sorry at all as he shoves his face into the crook of your neck again. Another deep, savory inhale. Another rumbling exhale right against your pulse. The faintest growl that trails afterward is new though and you go painfully still under him, hardly even daring the blink despite all the grimy dust kicked up in your desperate fight for freedom. 

You’d never, ever heard such a sound come out of him before. It scares you perhaps most of all, and you’d seen many a frightening and unsettling thing since stepping foot into Onigashima. Somehow this just really took the cake though. 

“I’m sorry,” He says it again. Contradicting this, his callous worn fingers dip into the hem of your pants and start to tug at them, jostling you with each insistent pull. “I’m sorry, heheee. I just can’t help myself. If I can’t have you I don’t know what I’ll do. You’ll help me calm down, won’t you?” 

Your mind struggles to process that. He was asking you to help him? Not with words or medicine, or even the endless supply of food he would have otherwise asked for had he been in his right mind. He wanted your body. 

So that’s what it was then. What it all boiled down to. 

If he couldn’t fight you and you refused to dance with him then that left only one other option. He was going to fuck it out of his system. Anything to get rid of all the excess energy running through his body, making him vibrate like a lit fuse on top of you. It made a certain amount of sense, you supposed, but that didn’t mean you had to like it. 

Curling your hands into tight fists against the rocks, numb to the abrasive sting, you draw a rattling breath to center yourself. It doesn’t do much in the way of good. “Please don’t do this.” 

It’s like he doesn’t even hear you, a grunt of victory puffing out of him when he finally manages to get your pants tugged down over the curve of your ass. 

“Please.” You gasp, the sound wet and faltering. 

Completely ignoring you now, Luffy reaches further down to fumble with something lower while his opposite hand possessively curls around your hip to keep you in place. You hiccup rather sadly at the distant sound of rustling clothes, almost completely lost under the violent pounding of blood in your ears, but there’s no missing the fleshy nudge against the back of your thigh that soon follows. It leaves a sticky smear where it touches you, inspiring an eruption of horrified goosebumps in its wake. 

You don’t have to look to know what’s touching you. The innate knowledge of what’s happening and who is responsible for this paralyzing fear that grips your aching heart in a chokehold is horrible and suffocating all at once. Stinging tears spring up and well in the backs of your eyes but you clench your teeth to try and stifle the terrified wail threatening to claw its way up your throat, knowing it would only sound hysterical. 

On one hand you almost couldn’t believe this was really happening, even though the reality of the situation was staring you right in the face. It just seemed almost too implausibly awful to be real. 

But on the other, Luffy wasn’t exactly known for his self control or restraint. You knew this. Had even found it charming at one point or another, so you brace yourself for the worst. It just might be the only thing that ends up saving you. 

“Captain - -“

“I’m sorry.” 

He’s suddenly between your legs, pressing up into you from behind. You go ramrod stiff against him, your whole body clenching in genuine distress, but it does very little to stop him. Like he’s done it a million times before, or perhaps thanks to the instinctive muscle memory bestowed upon every man with a working cock, he pushes right in on your entrance until cunt slips start to part under the pressure. A thin, tremulous groan escapes him at the first kiss of your hot guts against the tip and then he just keeps pushing. Even when your muscles tense up and try to keep him out. Even when he meets a great deal of resistance as your body tries its best to reject him. If anything he almost seems to take it as a challenge the same way he would another combatant or a roadblock standing between him and his goals. 

In this case his goal is clearly to sink himself in you right down to the hilt, and he just puts more effort into his cause the more you try to fight it. Leans his weight into you until it feels like your poor cunt is taking the full brunt of his mass. The resulting stretch of your inner sleeve is painful and drawn out, taking much longer than it otherwise would have had you been even slightly prepped for this. 

Your mouth hinges open but nothing comes out for a prolonged moment as the tears break loose to streak down your face. It feels like he’s tearing you in half! Either he was much bigger than you’d assumed he’d be or by virtue of how tightly your interior walls were squeezing him — or even some terrible combination of the two —  it was like you were being split down the middle. You couldn’t even breathe through the choking discomfort of it and a threadbare, sobbing little mewl dislodges from your throat when he at last manages to shove himself past that first barrier. 

Full penetration is much easier for him to achieve after that but it’s no less painful, and you cry out when he snaps his hips forward once, twice, and finally lodges his length the rest of the way in on the third. A pleased huff slips out of him as he settles on top of you, a fresh wave of giggles quickly following suit. It was like he’d gone mad. So wrapped up in the raving power that had turned his hair white that he can only laugh about it even while he’s buried balls deep in your body. 

That short lived pause is all the respite you get though and Luffy is soon moving, rutting into you with quick, sharp little jabs up into your guts. You shriek at the top of your lungs, clawing at the ground while you kick out behind you, but he ignores this the same as everything else. Lying prone and trapped under him, all you can do is take it. 

“Waah — why are you doing this, Luffy? It hurts! If … if the others find out about this - -“ 

“I know, hahaaa. I know. I’m sorry, but I can’t stop. You feel … this feels amazing! Almost as good as fighting Kaido did!” 

You seethe at that, trying your damndest not to get caught up on it right now but that proves to be more than a little difficult. He really didn’t see any difference between fucking and fighting? Somehow that seemed so typically him, and you think you would have probably joined him in laughing about it under better circumstances. 

But better circumstances wouldn’t have found you being roughly jostled back and forth on the ground by his eager, jack rabbit thrusts. The motion of his hips lacks any and all refinement with no technique to speak of, and yet that doesn’t stop you from seeing stars every time his cock blindly rams into your upper wall. It punches the air from your lungs and materializes out of your mouth in the form of heaving, strained bleats of distress that quickly climb to a higher and higher pitch with each second that goes by. Not for the first time today, you feel like you really might throw up. 

“Ooh, that’s …” He suddenly gasps, lets out a half strangled groan, and drives himself into you even harder. Faster. The force of his pelvis slapping against your upturned ass rapidly grows to a steady, almost constant blur of stinging swats — plap, plap, plap, plap — and you shriek at the rapidly swelling pressure on your gut. “Ooh, that’s good. That’s good! It feels so good! I - I can’t - -“ 

Without warning, your pussy abruptly floods with wet, sticky warmth. He hadn’t even given you a chance to beg for him to pull out. 

Your eyes widen to the approximate size of dinner plates but he just keeps pistoning his hips even as the rest of his shuddering frame gives a series of little jerks to thoroughly empty his balls into you. He shows no signs of slowing down or tiring any time soon though, his limitless energy evidently far outpacing his obvious lack of experience. 

It’s a hard thing to wrap your reeling head around just how quickly everything has happened and yet there’s no mistaking it for what it is. The sensation is completely foreign to you but you innately understood it for what it represented, what it could potentially mean for your future. You’re not half as relieved to have it done and over with as you are terrified of what it meant. 

Even more confounding, however, is that it doesn’t so much as make Luffy slow down let alone stop now that he’s painted your inner sleeve a thick, creamy white. Not the orgasm itself which, considering how much he fills you up, should have thoroughly drained him for the time being, nor the possible repercussions of allowing himself to shoot off inside of you like that. He just keeps going without a care in the world, like it wasn’t his problem and he still had more than enough stamina to keep up the harried pace he’d settled into for the foreseeable future. The only sign of it burning up any of his energy at all is the slightly labored quality his breathing takes on, but that’s it. 

Realizing that this ordeal is still far from over, you give your body a twist and try to angle your cunt away from the constant attack of his cock. “H - hold on a minute, what … aagghhh, what are you doing, Luffy? You - - you can’t just cum inside like that, you idiot!” 

“Can’t stop! Heheehe, I can’t, I can’t, not when you keep squeezing me like that!” 

All but wheezing at the intense pleasure of thrusting into the sticky mess he’s made of you, Luffy presses himself flush against your sweaty back and circles his arms around your middle. You brace to shove him off, or at least try to, but you don’t quite make it that far. 

Catching you completely off guard, he yanks you up against him and practically throws himself back onto the ground. The sudden lurch lodges your stomach in your throat, and you let out a frazzled scream as you land on top of him. That he cushions the impact with his rubbery body only comes as a slight relief when you were struggling just to get your bearings straight, disoriented and stunned in the aftermath of his impulsive decision when you unexpectedly find yourself blinking up at the sky. 

You start to pull yourself upright, wincing, only to quickly realize he’s still got one arm looped around your waist to keep you held in place on top of him. The other is — you gasp when you glance down to see him already fisting his cock in hand, guiding it back to your entrance where it had slipped out in that rush of movement. It’s still achingly stiff and unrelenting, like he hadn’t already spilled his seed in you only moments ago, and your heart painfully wrenches with the fresh wave of dread that comes over you. 

“W - wait, please don’t - -“

The head of him finds your cunt, pressing back up into you again, and you outright sob when he mercilessly snaps his hips to impale you on that stiff length once more. You sway unsteadily at the fresh stretch, trying to decide if it’s better or worse in this position, but gravity soon proves itself your enemy when the weight of you on top of him firmly sinks his cock even further into you than before. It feels like he’s tickling at your ribcage like this, but all you can do is give a wounded little mewl and try to steady yourself. Undaunted, he reaches up to tug your pants the rest of the way off. 

“Luffy,” Sniffling sadly, you fight him as much as you can in your physically exhausted state but it’s no use. Your bottoms come off to leave you bare and exposed from the waist down, sitting upon his cock like a whore on her rightful throne. 

The tears quickly start up again, streaking hot tracks down your flushed, sweaty face while he gets himself situated underneath you. His hips lift, nudging you just a pinch higher so he can brace his feet underneath him while his hands come around to anchor around your love handles. Then, he’s moving again. 

Completely unconcerned by your crying, Luffy flexes his legs to thrust up into you and the same fleshy slap as before quickly rises loud in the air again. Plap, plap, plap, plap. The wet squelch of your seeded cunt sucking him in deep on every upward plunge joins in, adding to the obscene cacophony of noises even as you toss your head back to sob at the sky. You can hear him grunting underneath you, clearly enjoying himself quite a bit, but you couldn’t say the same. Your body was already a sore, achy mess of bruises and scrapes, and this certainly wasn’t helping. You were just getting more and more tired by the minute. 

“Nnghhnnn, please, captain. Please don’t cum inside again, I … I’m begging you!” 

The only response he gives is a low, rumbling groan that seems to bleed into you and reverberate endlessly inside your belly, making you squeeze your thighs together as if to block him out. But of course it doesn’t work. Given the way he stutters over a raspy hiss of your name he actually seems to like the way it makes your walls tighten around him, unintentionally though it may have been. There was really nothing you could have done to dissuade or stop him once he’d set his mind to something, and it seemed he very adamantly had his sights set on using your cunt until his energy reserves finally wore out. 

Distantly, you wonder how long that will actually take. 

“You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine,” He chants underneath you, again and again, even when his hands tighten around your hips to guide you into bouncing right along with him. Having no other choice, you snifflingly spread your legs wide and brace your feet on the ground, moving with him despite the throbbing ache in your muscles. “Mine, mine, mine. My prize. My treasure. My woman!” 

He viciously slams his pelvis up at the end, further punctuating his claim on you, and the sharp stab of his cock rips a wild shriek from your mouth. “N - no, captain, please! I can’t — I don’t want it! Not like this! You’re not … aaghnn, you’re not Luffy! You’re not!” 

The only response he gives is a deranged little laugh that makes his cock jump where it’s wedged inside you. That push on your upper wall makes the tension running through you double and then triple, your heaving gasps coming a little quicker now even as his hands travel up your body. You can’t stop him like this when your own were propped behind you along his flexing stomach to help you maintain your balance in this precarious position. It’s not hard to figure out what his intentions are though, and you screw your eyes shut so you don’t have to watch him grab hold of your top. 

A deafening riiiip tears through the air when he shreds it, the poor cotton helpless before his far greater strength. He leaves it hanging from your shoulders in tattered pieces as your tits bounce free, the stiffened tips already aching and strained long before he greedily palms at them like a starved man clutching at a lifeline. The blinding friction of his calloused palms and fingers on your teats makes your cunt spasm around him and you wail, screaming for someone, anyone to save you from your captain. 

Unfortunately for you, help was still a long ways off and Luffy wasn’t even close to running out of steam.

⭐

Crossposted: here

[pregobirthlvr]

Push! Push! PUSH! That’s all my body is saying to me. I’ve been in labor for over a day. The baby decided to take its sweet time coming out. And since I demanded an all natural home birth I had no choice but to ride out the hours of painful contractions.

I started in bed, laboring for hours. When that wasn’t working we moved me to walking circles in the backyard. It didn't last long before my screaming was getting too loud and was drawing the attention of neighbors. I waddled inside and into the birth pool set up in the living room. But with how much I was moving around, water ended up splashing everywhere proving this was not the right move. You suggested the bed again. That way I can at least try to get some rest too. I nodded, too out of it from the 16 hours of labor I’ve already gone through.

We don’t even attempt to put clothes back on me before we waddled me back to our bed. I have to stop on the way there to cry through a contraction. You let me lean on you and grip your shoulders as the pain reaches its climax.

Thankfully we made it to the bedroom before the next contraction. The mattress wasn’t as soft as it usually would be. A thick plastic cover was wrapped around it to protect it from any fluids that may come out of me. I lay down on the thin sheet covering the plastic.

You prop me up against the pillows right as the next contraction hits. I grab my belly and moan loudly. I collapse against the pillows as the contraction ends. I whine and pant as the pain subsides to a dull ache.

“No more…” I cry out. When the next contraction starts up.

“It’ll be done soon,” You reassure me.

That turns out to be only slightly untrue. I lay in bed for another 5 hours. I try to sleep between contractions which I learn is easier said than done. Just as I would be about to slip into sleep a sharp pin would jolt me awake. I decided to wake you up too.

“Help me up,” I weakly ask after I accept the fact I wasn’t going to get any sleep like this. “Let’s try walking again to get things moving along.”

You nod still half asleep yourself. You help shimmy my legs to the edge of the bed. You squat in front of me and gesture for me to place both of my hands on your shoulders. Right as my hands find purchase I’m squeezing your shoulders. A harsh contraction ripping through me. You help support me up and let me rest my head on your chest as I breathe through my contraction.

I whimper to you to signal the contraction ended and it was time to move.

“Ready?” You ask.

I nod yes. I start to stand as you help pull me up. You grunt as you lift my heavy frame off of the bed and onto my feet. I use you to balance myself before I’m able to adjust my footing to at least hold up my contracting body.

I could feel the baby’s head was now resting lower thanks to the help of gravity. I groan and start to waddle around the bedroom. The head resting on my cervix made my waddle significantly more exaggerated. I move my hands to one holding up my belly and one supporting my back. You follow me around to make sure I wasn’t going to fall over if a contraction suddenly hit.

I lead us to the living room. We started to do laps around the large birthing pool. Each step made my hips ache more and my legs shake. Suddenly, there was a gush of fluid between my thighs. I look up at you with a mix of relief and fear.

“My water just broke,” I squeak out before an intense contraction rips its way through me.

I lean on you for support as a moan and sway my hips through it. As the contraction fades I try to continue my walking. The weight on my cervix is much worse now that there isn't something to cushion the baby's head.

“Do you want to get in the pool?” You ask. “I can warm it up.”

I shake my head and moan out, “There’s no time.”

You go to ask me what I mean. But you get cut off when I’m crying out again and baring down. The head is moving down fast. I can feel it slip inch by inch into my birth canal. When the contraction finally ends, I fall to my knees. You help guide me so I don’t land very hard and hurt myself. You sneak around behind me to help hold me up and rub my back. I lean on you and try to remind myself to breathe.

After a bit I start to moan and push again. I lean back on my knees and into you. My belly constricts and contorts as I push hard with my contraction. This happens a few more times before I can feel the head start to stretch my opening up.

“It burns!” I cry out as I push again. The head is big. We knew that I would be. I was almost over due and we both came from big families. I cry out again as the head starts to appear. The skin around my opening strained to stretch around the head, forming the famous tear drop shape. The head slipped back in when my contraction ended and I stopped pushing.

“Please. Come out,” I beg between gulps of air.

You try to comfort me but your words fade away when I start to groan once again. I push again hard. The head starts to slowly slide forward. I scream and bare down harder. By the time the contraction ends the head is half way out of me. I pant and squirm through the painful minute between contractions.

Finally, a contraction starts up again. I take a deep breath and push. With a bit of grunting and moaning the head finally pops free. I collapsed back onto you. I take a moment to let the baby’s shoulders twist. Then I find myself pushing once again. With one last push the baby slid out of me. I reach between my legs and pull it up to my chest. I look up at you exhausted but smiling. “It’s finally here.”

[radio-fmm]

The bird’s call

Zoro x bird!reader

Warnings: fem reader, yes reader turns into a bird, pure fluff idiots in love and confessions

Word count: 2.2k

Summary: In which it finally dawns on Zoro that he loves you, whatever he shall do?

Notes: yes this is the same reader from my other writings that can turn into a bird can be read as a stand alone but recommend this one!

᠃ 𖡼᠂ 𖥧⚘ 𓅪 ⚘𖥧᠂ 𖡼᠃

“You’re sloppy” The swordsman blurted as he adjusted your position harshly, you rolled your eyes at the comment

“I am an archer I had never touched a sword in my life”

You were a mighty warrior, although a lot of people failed to see it, you were glad the ones that count did, between them happened to be Luffy who offered you a place in his crew, and surprisingly Zoro, having this unspoken respect and admiration

“If you can hit a far away target, you can draw a sword”

You both shared an amazing bond when it came to battle. When he was strong, aggressive and always acting on instinct, you were precise, agile and light on your feet. Together you were unstoppable, you were the hand that wilded Zoro’s sharp sword, as he would hit recklessly, you’ll guide it and made sure to hit targets that may approach at the long run. The chemistry you both exuded was something never seen before, it made battle feel like a vigorous dance, a fun sport.

Training together on the other hand… was tough, at least for you. The swordsman had practically begged for you to start sword training, you were hesitant as how good of a teacher he would be, and oh god he worked you to the bone, always stumbling back to your room muscles aching and ego deflated. Your styles as good as they worked together, they were completely opposites.

“First position” the green haired man ordered which made you move back immediately, losing your balance as you adjusted to the awkward stance

“Wrong again” He said as he kicked your leg slightly which made it shake “You’re a warrior, look the part”

You let out a loud sarcastic scoff “It would be easier if you stopped being so mean”

“I’d be nicer if you listened”

You had spend half your life burning yourself out to be seen, to make people notice you were capable, always working twice as hard as everyone else in your stupid island so they would even let you grasp a weapon.

To be a warrior and to be a woman, didn’t go hand in hand

That’s why you didn’t hesitate to join Luffys crew, you knew he valued your place but most importantly it didn’t matter who you were or how you looked. It was the perfect path for you to leave your island behind and finally allow yourself for grow at your own pace. Having Zoro hovering over you and correcting every move and breath wasn’t appealing, it reminded you to all those times you spend swallowing the disrespect from others, of course you knew your crew-mate was doing this in good heart, it almost felt like a favor, but it troubled you non the less

“This is stupid” you whispered between pants as you catch your breath

You knew if you kept going at this, it would eventually end on you harvesting a hatred for Zoro, which funnily enough it had happened before and it wasn’t quite nice, but maybe it was better than being blinded by the love you had for him and only him

“It is only if you allow it to be” he weirdly tries inviting you to continue as he fixes your stance, one hand steady yet soft on your arms other in your hip, you can feel the scars on them but it doesn’t bother you, it feels weirdly familiar. You glance at him as your heart jumps around threatening to escape at any given moment

What Zoro would never admit, not even to himself, is that this was the reason he wanted to train you. He did not care even a little that you didn’t knew anything about swords, or that your stances were always wrong.

This were the only moments he’d allow himself to indulge in the best pleasures life could offer, you

Zoro was not only strong in body but also in mind, always disciplined and forever only focus in achieving his dream, until you appeared. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t just be without you, he would catch himself staring, looking for you, attentive and basking in you, confused on why even tough his heart would pump crazily, felt unarmed and nervous, he had to be near you in any way possible

You were intoxicating as sake, addicted to every part of you, eager to know and trace all edges of your soul. A walking contradiction you were for him, the sword he pointed directly to his heart, finding himself dreaming, seeking and yearning for you

But he kept everything close to his heart, at least until he understood, until he could control it

Impossible, not even the greatest swordsman in the wide world could tame love

Zoro holds your stare as you study his features, even though he could feel every inch of him shaking, he could not look away. He drowns in your sent as his eyes travel to your lips wondering how soft would they be?

It had been long ago that you had come to terms with the torturous feelings you had for the swordsman, but you promised yourself to never instigate.

It would only bring you trouble because obviously he would never reciprocate, right? There was no space for you in his mind or heart, you were a distraction, just his crew-mate, a friend at most

Sure you wore your heart on your sleeve and it was painfully obvious how head over heels you were for that man, but you thanked whatever force in the universe had made him so oblivious. If only you knew he was too busy figuring you out to notice…

So you held yourself back even if everything in you screamed that you closed the tiny gap between you both and kissed, for your own sake

You take a step back, or you try before Zoro’s grip on your waist tightness afraid you’ll fly away, not wanting the moment to fade. Your eyes widen but before you can question him he clears his throat and lets go, hands running towards the grip of the sword

“Just uh… hold it up like this” he directs you red splattered all over his cheeks eyes adverting from yours

It finally dawns on him, he doesn’t just like you, he loves you, like romantically. Having you that close had left him wanting more, as vulnerable he had felt, he was obsessed with the feeling of your bodies at such proximity, the intimacy of your eyes meeting while rose tinted your faces, the revolution on his heart that you had started only by glancing at him. Maybe he despised the power you held, but at the same time he was glad it was you, you the kindest sweetest yet strongest person he had the honor of meeting, the perfect match, most suitable to hold his heart, to own him.

But what was he to do now?

Time slipped through his fingers as he drowned in questions and feelings, ending in just a back and fort of brushes, gazes and long talks that both of you enjoyed of course, but the unspoken feelings that hanged in the air left you both breathless and awake at night.

“Just tell her Zoro is not that hard” As his last resort, Zoro found himself seeking advice for Nami, but he started to regret his decision

“Easy for you to say”

The navigator rolled her eyes, this whole situation had her, no scratch that, everyone on the ship amused and annoyed. How could both of you be so blind to notice how far you had fallen for one another

“Ugh c’mon, you’re practically always together and if not you’re staring back at each other! You’re both ridiculous” the statement took Zoro aback, red creeping from his neck as he bickered back at Nami

“Thought you would’ve notice by now” she giggled still amused by his lack of expertise “All you gotta do is go and talk to her and be honest”

Zoro’s eyes wondered to where your laugh sprung, Luffy and Usopp were throwing grapes as far as they could for you to catch up in the air morphed into your bird form, sometimes indulging them in some flying tricks as you fly back down. As much as it pained him Nami was right, there was no way around it, for him to bottle up everything he felt would end up in nothing good and he would rather die of embarrassment than to hurt you. Still the thought of you liking someone as devilish as him haunted the swordsman, he had to trust the navigators words for this one which wasn’t ideal but at least he felt reassured.

Nami read the panic that settled on her friend’s features, which was comical to her considering how painfully obvious you were

“She likes you man, I promise, and I don’t go throwing that word around” the woman squished his shoulder as the last drop of motivation she could offer before leaving

Another laugh escaped your mouth that had Zoro fawning all over the deck. You were so lively, kind and driven, but also strong, how could you ever give your time of day to a man that spent his days doing nothing but working, sweating and drinking. Zoro was a man that had walked through this world with an iron will, while you also had to step your ground, you managed to remain soft and sweet which was deemed impossible to the swordsman but still, you were the living proof that there was a way to own the softness in your strength which always impressed him.

That evening as you finished your personal training which consisted of the longest cardio session Zoro had ever witnessed someone do, some yoga and target practice, he silently waited, sun sharing its last drops of sunlight as it disappeared behind the ocean

“Hey~” Zoro spoke as he saw you walking back to your quarters, which made you jump and thug at the dagger wrapped around your thigh, when your eyes met his, you let out the a breath as he snickered at your reaction

“Don’t do that again” a smiled formed in your lips as you heard Zoro’s laugh, it was a sound that you rarely got to listen but so loved to

“So jumpy” he joked before turning to the sea leaning his strong figure on the railing, you followed beside him, gaze fixed in the watercolors that painted the scenery. Usually whenever you and Zoro shared silence it was comfortable and inviting, but today you could sense tension and doubtfulness hanging around the green haired man, nevertheless you don’t break it

A shaky heavy hand travels from the railing to yours which makes you flinch, you turn to him, to find his grey eyes dissecting you completely, again, you don’t say anything you stay still as to not scare him away. His breath becomes uneven, all the words he had rehearsed washed away at your touch, melting in each other instantly

“Zoro?” You finally whisper after a long staring contest between you two, his face turns back at the ocean making his earrings chime together, your face looks for his once again, a hand holding his cheek coaxing him to speak up

The light kisses you just right, you look angelic in his eyes, hair falling perfectly framing your face and your skin soft like a pillow, how could he word any thought about you that has crossed his mind without tripping? He slowly removes the hand that rest on his cheek and with all the courage he could gather he kisses it, eyes closing drinking all of you he could take

You are the one at lost of breath now, heart drumming strong in both of your chests

“Be mine” as blunt and more of an statement than a question as it sounded, it was the first thing that he had found himself thinking of you since meeting, a giggle makes its way trough his ears as his eyes widen thinking you were making fun of him, before even registering anything else you pull yourself closer, noses lightly touching

“Please…” a whisper could be described as something louder compared on the way he plead for you, it melted you completely to see the strong stoic swordsman like this, guard down and honest

“I’ve always been yours”

You listen to your heart for once and kiss him, softly and tender just like he imagined. You held his neck to keep you closer as he finally realized whats happening and welcomes you instantly, holding your waist capturing you under his big figure. Nothing exists anymore, just you and him under the sunset lulled by the so familiar waves of the ocean that seemed to have softened just for the tow of you.

You let go as much as you could, not being able to step back as he held you strongly, catching both of your breaths as they mixed together

“Good, would’ve been awkward if you didn’t say yes” you roll your eyes and smile ear to ear as he follows your head to rest his forehead on yours

“I love you, Zoro”

᠃ 𖡼᠂ 𖥧⚘ 𓅪 ⚘𖥧᠂ 𖡼᠃

I love them sm *holds them close* I’ll be writing more about these two. Feel free to request and correct me, english is not my first language

[dddomenstarstwst1]

can i request a fic with rook and a sadistic amab reader fulfilling his masochistic fantasies? literally just them going ROUGH

Hi, of course! Hope you like, I'm not sadistic dom myself, more of a soft one, but I tries my best!

Hunt a Prey (ft.rook)

Warnings: sub!rook, dom!amab!reader, slight s/m dynamics, spanking, degradation, blowjob, deep throat, face fucking, riding, kinda clothed sex, biting, mentions of blood play(?) nothing too serious

a/n: character is depicted as 18+ y/o

A sharp sound resonated across the dark room. Your palm hurt from how much it made contact with Rook's skin. His ass was a mess, littered with red shapes of what once resembled your hand.

"Have you learned your lesson now? Or should I spank your filthy ass another twenty times?" You were met with nothing more than a broken whine that turned into chokes as you brought your hand to Rook's butt. Massaging sensitive cheeks, you tilted his head to look at you.

His eyes were hazy, glossed with lust, a dumb smile played on his lips. He was enjoying himself too much, it seems, "Goodness, what a dumb bitch you are! Can't even answer a simple 'yes or no' question. I'm disappointed."

Rook drops his gaze, before he slowly places a hand over your clothed crotch. His silent question is met with your nod of approval. Freeing your dick of its restraints, Rook lets his tongue slide from your base to the tip. His eyes close at the taste of precum, as his lips wrap around the head, bobbing a bit.

"Is that all you can give me? Really pathetic, y'know?" You say, before grabbing a handful of Rook's messy blond locks. His eyes widen and practically roll to the back of his skull, as you use his mouth as a fleshlight. He gags, hands flying up to grab your thighs, but you continue abusing his throat like there's no tomorrow.

"Don't make that face, I know you love it rough. You're a stupid whore after all," Rook feels tears build in his eyes, wetting his cheeks. His jaws went slack, drool spilling from the corners of his mouth. "Shit, slut! Your throat is so tight."

You can almost feel your climax already, – the feeling of cumming in Rook's mouth, making him gag and choke on your load, then watching him struggle as he swallows it all, and finishing it by kissing him, tasting yourself on your own tongue. You have to stop yourself from cumming just from your fantasies.

You tug Rook off of your cock, earning a choked whine. He pants, dumb expression on his face. You pull him on your lap, not giving him anytime to prepare as your dick enters him halfway in one go. Rook swears in French, at least you think it's French with how slurred the words come out.

"Ride me," He nods, lifting his weight off your length, before slamming it down to the base. Sounds of skin-to-skin fill your room, as Rook struggles to keep his pace even. What's worse is how you left him to do all the work himself.

Oh, how cruel you were.

"Why so slow? Can't go any faster, hm? Too dumb and useless to do even that?" You scoff and slam your hips against his, your hands already around his waist, as you pick up the pace. Thanks to position you had him in, it was easier to hit deeper.

Nails drag across your spine, teeth dig in your shoulder, breaking skin and drawing blood. You hiss at sudden pain, pulling his hair to make him look at you. His lips are covered in a thin layer of your blood.

"Fucker," You kiss him, licking blood from his bottom lip, before darting your tongue in his open mouth. Metallic taste spreads on your taste buds, drawing a groan from you. Your hips snap at his, hand still in his hair, you grip Rook's hip till it's bruised. One more addition to his already bruise littered body, something he'll cherish until they disappear and he asks for more.

And you'll be glad to paint his skin purple, for as long as he begs for it.

[klausysworld]

Are request still open and if they are can you make a Klaus Mikaelson one shot the girl is Tyler Lockwood sister and she hates Klaus so she rejects him as her mate but at the end she accepts him so like fluff at the end

What are you doing to me?

Finding out your mated to the all powerful original hybrid who ruined your brothers like and forced him to become half vampire while also terrorising your childhood friends and what not isn’t exactly at the top of my bucket list.

Him being a willing participant when it came to the whole ‘soulmate’ arrangement was also not meant to be in the cards.

When I realised we were mates I was 99% sure he would immediately reject me as a mate. As strong as a soulmate makes you, it will also always be your greatest weakness. I would be able to kill him far easier than anyone else and I was certain he would want to kill me first.

So him leaving me expensive gifts was…unexpected to say the least.

Detailed drawings of wolves and the full moon in the sky with a poem hand written on the back had my heart fluttering in ways that I should not have enjoyed.

But he had destroyed my brothers and the people I consider my family’s lives.

And so, despite the utter agony I was inflicting on both him and myself, I rejected him as my mate.

It’s a rare thing for wolves to reject their one, the side affects are awful in a way to force your mind into reconsidering.

The crippling pain was emotionally tormenting and physically exhausting. After the initial rejection I was barely able to leave my bed, eat, drink, I barely spoke a word and each time I fell asleep I was haunted by a similar image of Klaus.

Damon had messaged me letting me know Klaus had been out of sight for nearly 3 weeks after.

The pain lingered, never truly gone but it had dimmed. Though a sharp pain would shoot through me when he was too close, when the bond knew I was purposely ignoring him, and i could always see him wince at the same time.

The few times I didn’t shove him away, well I felt much better. He brought peace to my wolfs inner battle between soulmate and family because in reality I knew that he was both. I was just too afraid to admit it fully.

Though I couldn’t help but occasionally step a tad bit closer to him, to feel the warm buzz that ran through my bloodstream.

He was a lot less subtle though.

Often, as soon as his wolf sensed mine approaching he was all over me. Hands would be rubbing up and down my arms, his lips on my neck in a desperate instinctual need to mark me. And what was worse was that my wolf was all the more compliant and for a few wonderful seconds I could indulge in the blissful sensations. My head back, hands firmly gripping his henley and moans leaving my lips, my wolf having the desire to present myself in a truly embarrassing fashion.

Though he would always push it a tad too far, a grope to my ass, his canines about to pierce my skin, and I would be pushing him away. My wolf panting as I nearly tripped over my own two feet to get away from him while ignoring the intense feeling of my heart being squeezed unpleasantly.

I always managed to just scrape past him.

Suffering alone in my room again at the recurring torture of rejecting a mate.

His continued flow of presents didn’t help either, only made me feel worse seeing effort put into paintings of me and my wolf. He hadn’t turned into a hybrid, not yet at least, he probably knew that would be my last straw and id maim him.

But I knew he had followed my wolf on the full moons, I always woke with brand new clothes beside me, lead on a cotton blanket with a pillow under head and the snapping of twigs in the distance as he walked away.

And even though I should have said absolutely not when he personally delivered an invitation to his family’s ball, with those stupid puppy dog eyes, I couldn’t bring myself to.

“Please love, just one dance and if you don’t like it…then I’ll leave you be and accept your decision” as soon as the words left his mouth, both our souls twisted in agony making my teeth grind.

“Fine, just one” I whispered and he nodded, pulling me into a quick hug to calm down both our pain. Which it did like water on a fire, entirely putting out the flames and leaving us calm and quiet.

And then the dress arrived at my door, with matching shoes and accessories and I realised I actually had to do this.

Walking into his house sent a chill down my spine, my body felt much warmer and my wolf was howling inside me.

A hand on my shoulder had me whimpering softly making an arm wrap around my waist and pull me aside to another room.

“Shh love, we don’t want the rest of the guests hearing such lovely sounds” klaus murmured into my ear and I pressed against him, a small moan leaving my lips.

“This is too much for you isn’t it my love?” He whispered, his hand tilting my head making me look up at him.

The entire house smelt like him, I had seen parts of it in the dreams of him when he was suffering from my rejection. Which now intensified my guilt, my emotions were running haywire. I was in his home; I was in the wolf’s den.

Without thinking my hands tugged at his blazer, pushing it down his arms before my fingers began to pull his shirt open

“Woah love, it’s alright” he muttered, his hands grabbed mine and before I could blink we were outside. The cold air cooled down my boiling skin as I panted and he stroked my hair away from my face

“There we go, it’s okay” he cooed, the back of his hand pressing against my forehead.

“I hate this stupid bond” I whispered, covering my face.

“I know love…we can have our dance another time, I’ll take you home” he uttered, his tone was sad and my heart ached again.

“Stop it” I whispered “please stop it”

“Stop what love? What’s wrong?”

“Make it stop fucking hurting! I rejected you weeks, months ago! Why does it still hurt!? What are you doing to me?” I whispered, tears filling my eyes and spilling over. I looked up at him to see him in a similar state though no tears had fallen from his eyes yet.

His hand moved to cup my face and I couldn’t help but lean into it.

“It will only stop hurting us when you truly reject me. Somewhere, inside you, you still haven’t truly given up on the idea. You either have to reject the bond once and for all or accept me” he explained softly

“I would’ve been able to reject you if you left me alone. You kept sending all those things and being so kind, you did this to me” I whimpered

“I wouldn’t have done that if I couldn’t feel your soul still reaching for mine” he uttered “I would never intentionally harm you”

I let out a quiet sob as my soul pleaded for his.

I leaned forward so my head could press against his chest, my eyes closing at the content feeling that rose in me. I could feel myself giving into the bond, our souls slowly binding together. His hand held the back of my head, I could hear his heart speeding up as mine mimicked it.

His other hand moved around my waist, pulling me to him. “Good girl” he whispered “you’ll feel so much better now” he reassured “I promise I’ll make it better now sweetheart”

He kissed my head softly, his hand rubbing my back “let the bond form my love” he encouraged.

I focused on the connection trying to relight the candle.

I could feel the second it happened, my knees growing too weak to stand making him chuckle quietly and wrap both arms around me. He lifted me so my face could be right infront of his, prompting me to lean forward and press our lips together.

Our souls entwined as we did so, endless amounts of passion poured into one act.

The silent appreciation that this was real and it was only just the beginning.

[gottawhump]

Coping

Carlisle

CW/TW: pet whump, BbU/WRU, dubcon, conditioned responses, sickness and death mentions.

“Being a Domestic isn’t a ‘pre-existing condition’”, Carlisle says, after ending the call with the insurance representative. “Dammit.”

He slumps down into a comfortable chair, closing his eyes. At least his parents had pet insurance for the household. It just didn’t go far enough. It would not cover what his sick people need now.

It would cover quick and merciful euthanasia.

He understands, now, why the faces in the household changed so often. Easier to just burn through lives and replace them.

He doesn’t want to do that. He wants to save them. If he can.

Someone brushes the back of his hand, before putting a hot cup in it. He smells the fresh coffee, and opens his eyes so he can guide it to his mouth and inhale a mouthful.

Diamanté smiles at him, and kneels gracefully at his feet. Blond haired, blue eyed Diamanté. Beautiful even in severely cut mourning black. His parents’ Romantic.

“You’re tense,” he says, almost purrs. “Let me make you feel better.”

He nearly chokes on his coffee when Dia undoes his pants and takes his cock into his mouth. Christ, it feels good for a minute. Then he recoils, this is his parents’ Romantic, this is wrong on so many levels.

“Dia, no. Stop.”

The Romantic draws back. “Am I doing something wrong? I can do better, I promise, yo-Master.”

Carlisle takes a moment to put his cock away. “You’re perfect, Dia. But I don’t want that from you. I will never want that from you. You don’t need to do that for me.”

Tears fill up the crystal blue eyes, spilling artfully down sculpted cheekbones. Pain just cracks the pure tenor voice. “You don’t want me? Then you’re going to return me for-for refurbishment?”

“No, no. You’re staying here. I’m trying not to break up the household, Dia, and that includes you. Just-not as my lover, my Romantic.”

He watches Diamanté work through this. The Romantic has lasted several years, he’s not stupid. This is just a new idea to process.

“Then-what do I do?”

Carlisle sips at the coffee, feeling it revive him, taking the edge off his nerves. “What do you want to do, Dia?’

“I want whatever my owner wants.”

“As your owner, I want you to have your own wants and desires outside of mine.” It’s a good counter to the conditioned response, he hopes. “Is there something you’ve always wanted to do?”

“Can I-could I learn to read?”

“Yes. I’ll ask Ellis to help you.”

“And may I massage your shoulders? Master, I need to touch someone. It’s been days.”

“All right.”

It’s a good first step, he thinks. For both of them.

Old Friends taglist: @painful-pooch @justplainwhump @redwingedwhump @maracujatangerine @honeycollectswhump @tragedyinblue

[justporo]

Hunger

When his lover is fully drenched with blood after a fight Astarion cannot resist to sate his hungers - all of them.

You can find the amazing artwork that inspired this piece here! Please also follow and support my wonderful friend and give her some love! <3

MASTERLIST | AO3

A/N: I am still on a quest it seems to write stuff for other's OCs (and I am enjoying it loads to be honest). This time I wrote something for my friend @raphaellearp and her beautiful tiefling paladin Hébée. We hung out late last night, I prompted her to draw Astarion licking blood of her girl, which in turn prompted me to write a little drabble... which led to both of us staying up a whole night, whoopsie.

Pairing: Astarion/Hébée Warnings: blood, light religious imagery, implied nsfw at the end Wordcount: 1,1k ~~~

There was blood.

A lot of it actually.

Fortunately though, it wasn’t Hébée’s and it wasn’t Astarion’s either. It was just that they both had gotten drenched in the Mindflayer colony and there was no easy way to get it off.

But then again, it would be a waste to just get rid of it as long as there was a vampire around, wouldn’t it?

Having dragged themselves back to the Last Light Inn, Hébée was wishing for nothing more but being able to take off her armour and soak herself in a tub. As soon as the tiefling had shut the door behind her and Astarion’s joint room at Last Light Inn she started ripping off bits and pieces of her plated armour. She desperately wished to leave this day behind her. It hadn’t been easy work defeating one of the Dead Three, for neither body nor mind. She wanted rest. And all this blood gone.

Pieces of metal and weapons clattered to the wooden floors as the paladin groaned and worked to get everything off of herself. It was all increasingly becoming too much. She needed to feel nothing but a whisper of fresh air on her strained body.

“So desperate to get your clothes off, my love?” Astarion teased while he watched her tear off armour and clothing.

Hébée simply scoffed while she removed another layer: “Not everything has to be a sultry joke, you know?”

“Oh, but it could be.”

Hébée turned around to her lover with annoyance in her eyes. He was observing her, gaze wandering over where blood was slowly drying on her skin. She noticed how his ruby eyes were flicking over her, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

She truly had been drenched in crimson.

“Don’t say you are this desperate to get some blood,” she snorted as she took off the last piece, leaving her in nothing but her undergarments now.

The look Astarion threw at her was partly offended, partly playful as she turned to him again. When she gazed at him, she also found that there was a tinge of pleading in the crimson of his eyes.

“Astarion,” Hébée said to the vampire, leaning her head to the side. Her tone was now a lot more consoling. “You could have asked at any point.”

His eyes darted away.

Despite everything, Astarion still wasn’t easily made to open up about vulnerabilities

At least now though, Hébée knew to read the signs and Astarion knew not to hide them. Still it was easier for him to express himself in those sultry jokes. Easy to brush it off, just in case.

So Hébée tried her best to make it easy for him. She drew up her shirt she’d been wearing beneath her armour, revealing her bare form beneath.

“I am serious, Astarion,” she murmured as she saw how his eyes were trained on the red wetly glistening splotches all over her skin.

“Take whatever you need,” the paladin continued and let herself fall down on the edge of the bed, opening up the laces of her pants as well now.

“Whatever I need,” Astarion parroted, following after her, too enchanted by her naked body, covered in blood.

Since they had entered the Shadowlands fresh, nurturing blood had been more than scarce. And with the vampire questioning what he really wanted from their relationship, dropping by Hébée just for a bite hadn’t been his top priority. But it had left him struggling, almost starving once more.

But now, as they had defeated Ketheric Thorm, had freed the Shadowlands - there was no real reason to not indulge again, was there? Especially not since it seemed there was already a meal laid out.

Hébée kicked off the last of her clothes, enjoying how the air was now finally brushing over her bare skin. She felt the ache of the past battles and exhaustion, soreness in every joint and muscle. But as she observed Astarion and the hunger in his eyes, she knew there was one more thing to do before she took a much needed rest.

“Please, Astarion, take your fill,” she offered as she observed Astarion also moving to free himself of armour and clothes. “Take anything you like.”

She couldn’t resist letting her hand wander over her naked breasts. Smearing some of the blood there across the chest with that.

“Hébée,” he whispered as he stepped close to her, finally as bare as her. She didn’t even answer anymore, just fixed him with her gaze.

And without another word he just went to his knees before her. Kneeling there like a simple believer ready for worship his red eyes seemed liquid by now.

She knew he was hungering for her in more ways than one. And she was willing to fulfil all of his needs.

Her clawed fingers wandered into his curls while he moved closer.

“Anything?” he whispered while he scooched to be between her parted legs, looking up at her, need, hunger and admiration mixing all into one. With parted lips and his gaze firmly on her, he leaned to her.

The tips of Hébée’s claws softly grazed his scalp - not hurting, only teasing - while she watched how his soft lips enveloped a spot right on her stomach.

She felt his wet mouth sucking on her skin, tongue lapping to catch the blood.

He felt her muscles tense under his touch and the sharp breath she took.

When he lightly began sucking on her warm skin and she could feel his fangs softly press into her abs, she couldn’t help herself. With a moan Hébée threw her head back and revelled in the feeling of her lover’s mouth on her bare skin. It was a soothing cure she didn’t know she had needed.

One of Astarion’s hands came up to wrap the small of her arching back when he moved to yet another bloodstained spot on her abdomen. His ruby eyes jumped up at her when she gasped, watching him lap up more blood from her skin.

“Really anything?” he repeated, tearing away from her only shortly. His breath was brushing over her, making her shudder, making her bite her lip.

“Anything, Astarion,” Hébée replied, almost absent-mindedly opening her legs further for him, arching more, willing him to see that she really meant it.

Astarion’s eyes wandered, from the traces of blood teasing him to yet another thing beckoning to him like a siren song. Right there, right within his reach.

Then they caught the tiefling’s gaze once more, burning, relaying an answer to a question he couldn’t fully put into words yet.

“Don’t mind if I do then, my love,” Astarion purred and moved to sate all of his hungers as Hébée gave into the joy of giving herself, fully.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Same as it ever was 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: Sorry to those who expected a team-up or simps!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Your eyes burn as you rub them with the heels of your hand. It's late, very late, and Pete's not home. He missed bath time and bedtime. You're only fortunate that the sitter fed the kids.

You continue your tedious Excel mission, yawning at the sharepoint file as you sweep your fingers over the touchpad. You sit against the pillows propped against the bed frame and struggle not to doze. You're almost there, you can do it. Yeah, keep telling yourself that and it might even be true.

You hear an engine. You're not much of an automotive enthusiast but you recognise it. It's Pete unnecessary Corvette. The vehicle he convinced you would be the perfect company car. You sigh and hunker down, blocking out the ruckus of his return.

Still, you hear it all. Him unlocking the door, pausing to take off his jacket and shoes, climbing the stairs, at least considerate of the hour as he keeps his steps light. He enters, seemingly shocked to find you awake as his eyes round in your direction. He stretches, pushing his neck side to side in an exaggerated gesture of fatigue.

"Ugh, long day," he rubs his shoulders with a groan.

You don't acknowledge him as you keep your fingers fluttering over the keyboard. It's too late and you're too drained to be any more angry than you already are. You narrow in on the laptop as he hovers at the edge of your vision, undressing piece by piece.

"Big meeting today. Might've found another investor," he talks above the bellowing elephant in the room. "I think we're almost there."

You curl your lip but say nothing. One word and it's over. It will all come spewing out. Between him and your asshole boss, you have a thread of patience left.

He tosses his pants at the hamper and they catch on the edge before falling on the outside. He doesn't pick them up. You wonder why he insists on spending label name money when he doesn't take care of his clothes. Why he wears big names as you're digging through thrift store bins. You blow out a breath, a sigh that fills the room.

"So," he rolls down his underwear, shamelessly naked but for his black socks, "you just going to give me the silent treatment when I worked all day--"

"I'm still working," you snap and still your hands, glaring up at him, "I'd be done by now if you had picked up the kids from Emma's."

"I... you weren't serious about that, were you?"

"Don't," you warn him and lower your gaze back to the laptop, "I have a big meeting in the morning and I'm gonna spend enough time getting this done. I don't need an argument--"

"Relax," he snips, "I'm gonna shower and sleep. You don't gotta worry." He lumbers over to the bathroom door and you roll your eyes, "we both know nothing else is going on in that bed."

You swallow as your eyes sting again. He slams the door and you hiss. If he wakes up the kids... 

You wait and listen for any stirring beyond your bedroom walls. Thankfully, the house is silent but for the sudden scour of the showerhead. You bat away the layer of tears threatening to spill and shake your head. It's not like you didn't try; you put on some old lingerie two weeks ago and he rolled over and went to sleep. Still, you're the problem. It's always you.

You hit save to make sure the sharepoint updates and you take a final look over each sheet. You're done, you think. You hope. You're too tired to care. You shut the laptop and put it on the night table.

You slide down onto your side and flip off the lamp. You lay with your back to the bathroom door and squeeze your eyes shut. Sleep should be easy but your anxiety further jabs the migraine into your skull. You hate this, all of it. How did it come to this? Where did you go wrong?

🗄️

A couple hours of sleep is hardly enough to recover from the hectic day behind you, or the one awaiting you. You get the kids up, packed, and off to school knowing Pete is probably not even awake. You didn't even try to rouse him as he would only add to your list of worries.

You head to the office, your hope of getting in early crushed as you hurry in at your usual time. You fall into the chair, coat still half-on as you jab the button on the monitor. The PC is asleep but not off. You hit the space bar to wake it up.

You finish stripping off your outer layer and hang it over the back of your chair. You swivel in and gape at the sight before you. Every cell is empty. You click through the sheets as your heart plummets. You close and try reopening the file, hoping it merely timed out.

Nothing. It's all gone but how? You can't believe it. You go into the recovery settings and search through revision history. It's all be locked, you can't see any past edits.

You clutch your head as despair and panic and grief swallow you up. Luck has never been your friend but this is a new low. You roll back slightly and fold over in your chair. You have a choice; accept defeat and tender your resignation or hope for mercy and pretend in the meeting that the file was corrupted without your knowledge. 

"You know," your chair jolts as someone kicks a wheel, "there's a very strict security policy around here. All work devices should be locked and shut down before they are left unattended."

You sit up and spin, dizzy from grief and utter dread as you face Mr. Hansen. He smirks down at you, a black button-up under a sleek evergreen jacket. His wardrobe is even more ostantatious than your husband's; probably because he can afford it. You lift your face and deflate.

"Mr. Hansen," you murmur.

"Anyone could just see the budget… they could tamper with it," he watches you smugly, "or even…delete it."

Your ribs rack and your ears tingle. He did this. Is he crazy? You stand up and he stays as he is. The closeness between you is suffocating.

"Mr. Hansen," you repeat, "I had the numbers done–"

"Oh, you do?" He chuckles, "that's great."

"What did you do? Why?" You accuse.

"I told you, honey bun, you owe me," he pishes his shoulders back, "so…" he lifts his arm and checks his watch, gold and expensive. Probably worth as much as your mortgage, "how exactly are you gonna pay me back? First I let you off early," he holds up a finger  "then… I work a miracle and help you recover that pesky budget."

"Sir," you choke out, mortified, "I'll… I'll stay overtime all week. I swear, I'll–"

"Hmph, nah, I got enough soldiers running the ant hill," he tweaks a brow, "overtime… boring. You got kids, they need mommy home to kiss them goodnight."

You clamp your lips together and watch him desperately. He just wants to torture you. You can feel it all slipping away; your job, your husband, and yourself.

"What do you want?" You exhale weakly.

He tilts his head and lets the tip of his tongue poke out, "you know," he wags his index in front of you, "I know this trick on Excel, why don't I show you?" He pauses for effect, basking in his victory, "in my office?"

A stitch dimples between your eyebrows. His office. Why? You don’t let the trickle of suspicion overflow. You’re not his type. Definitely not Kendra. No, this will be worse than whatever disgusting thoughts he has in her direction.

You set your chin and turn your hands out, “alright, fine. Show me.”

You wait, and he hesitates, as if waiting for you to flinch first. Finally, he pivots on the heel of his ridiculous loafers and struts towards his office. You leave your chair facing the rest of the office and follow, pressing your sweaty palms to the pilled wool that strains across your thighs.

He opens the door of his office and you enter behind him. He lingers by the door and closes it as you stop just inside. For all your years there, you’d never actually been inside his office. There was never any reason for it. Thankfully.

He doesn’t say a word as he rounds his desk and sits casually in his tall-backed chair. It’s much better than those out in the bullpen with the worn cushion and squeaky wheels. You wait, patiently impatient, for him to begin. You feel him plotting, measuring his next move.

He rolls closer to his desk and takes the nearly flat apple mouse, moving it atop the leather pad and clicking with a single finger. His eyes reflect the large screen of his iMac and the corner of his mouth curves upward.

He looks at you and beckons with his other hand, “come here. I’ll show you.”

You reluctantly round his desk. There’s something about his nonchalance that both irks and unsettles you. You near and look at his screen. You see the slobbery lips of a teary-eyed woman right before he minimises the window. You pretend not to notice as he clicks onto the excel file.

It’s there. All your work. You squint and see the title in the bar of the window; Copy of… He kept a copy but he destroyed yours. It’s all a trick. You can’t be surprised by that.

“There it is,” he clicks his tongue, “all your hard work. Wow, I gotta say, that’s impressive.”

“You…” you put your hands on your hips and glance between him and the screen, “what do you want?”

“Nothing much,” he snickers, “and I’d say it’s not too different than what you want. What you really want.”

You blink at his vague statement. You bring an arm up across your stomach and stare at him nervously. Men like him just want their ego inflated. You just have to remember how to kiss ass.

“So,” he leans back and reaches for his belt, “we don’t got much time. Meeting’s in a smooth fifteen so–”

“What are you doing?” You hiss.

He stops, keeping his hands over his lap. You see his velvet pants twitch.

“We can play pretend. I don’t mind. You like the whole hard to get thing, I get it, you got class,” he says, “but we both know the old man isn’t giving you what you need. I can tell by the way you keep your ass clenched–”

“Mr. Hansen,” you snarl.

“I’m not asking for much. A quick handy,” he unbuckles his belt, “I just want a little more than you give the husband. I don’t want it to be a chore, alright? You’re not washing dishes–”

“You’re gross-”

“And you’re going to do it,” he opens his fly. Again, your shock is lacking. No underwear, nasty. “Because you’ve been here, what…” he reaches into his pants and pulls his dick out as he talks, “twelve years?” He strokes himself without shame, “and you walk out of here without a single reference and you’ll be lucky to get a job at the McDonald’s drive-thru.”

You focus on his face, horrified. Like most women, it’s not the first time you’ve been in this position. Propositioned in such a revolting way. Put in a winless situation. Yet, you somehow believed those days were over for you. You’d found safety in age.

“You can’t be serious…” you mutter.

“I’m fucking serious and I’m horny. Since you wanna cockblock me, you can deal with the consequences, honey,” he turns the chair towards you, “you do remember how these things work, right?”

You stare at him, almost glaring. You don’t let your revulsion seep through fully because as repugnant as he is, he’s right. You need this job. You’re not young, you can’t just walk away and crash on a friend’s couch until you find something better. You’re a mother and a wife. A wife.

“Is it really cheating if you can’t stand it?” He chortles as if reading your mind.

You take a breath and step forward. He winces at your suddenness. He braces the armrest of the chair as you reach for his rigid length. You grip him, biting down to keep from ripping your touch away. You look past him to the wall as he grunt and lets out a quivery breath.

You pump him and he hisses, “honey, it’s not a stick shift. Be fucking nice. Get some fucking lube on it.”

You tamp down your disgust and pull your hand back. You hold it up and spit onto it, hiding the action as best you can. You’d rather spit in his face.

You grab him again and run your hand from base to tip and back. He chokes and clings to the chair tighter as it shifts beneath him. He groans as you fixate on the framed Harvard Business School degree. Just when you thought life couldn’t slap you in the face again.

He pushes his head back and rumbles as you feel him tensing. He’s like any man. Simple, through and through. 

You feel him trembling and sense the change in his tone. He’s close. You taste bile, sickened by yourself and him. You stop and keep your hand around him.

“Send it,” you demand.

“Huh?” He puffs.

“Send the file or I don’t finish. And neither do you–”

“Honey, that’s not–”

You squeeze, “send the file.”

“Fine, fine,” he reaches over, straining as he taps a few buttons. You watch the screen and he hits share, you wave him away from the keyboard. You type in your email with your free hand and press enter.

“Great,” you pump your hand again, hips aching at the awkward way you have to bend.  

You grasp the chair above his shoulder as you speed up. He growls and plants his feet, rasping through his rising pleasure, “don’t fuck up my suit–”

You angle his dick and cup your hand under the tip. You have to look then. You watch as he explodes, catching the gushing flow in your palm as he quakes and moans out his delight. Your stomach churns as you stroke him until he’s empty and squirming.

You retract your hand and turn to grab a tissue to wipe away the mess. You’re certain to take a healthy dollop from the sanitizer bottle as well, clearing your throat as you try to shake off what you just did. You look at your watch and roll your shoulders.

“I’ll see you in the meeting,” you retreat to the door as his breath peters out.

“Honey…” he sighs.

“Mr. Hansen,” you reach for the door, leaving him with his limpening dick hanging out.

You march out, not looking one way or the other, as you head for your desk. You’re shaking by the time you reach it, nearly collapsing into the chair. What have you done? You are just as disgusting as he is. You’re pathetic, you’re a loser, you’re… a cheater.

[sissiarte]

THEY ARE HERE!!! I'm very excited to finally share the full designs hope you guys like them <3

These are only like a base, they'll wear more layers on top and have more weapons and armor some times (and like, wear other clothes) but I wanted to have at least one reference for myself that I can use and later on work on top of and give them more outfits (playing dolls with them basically)

I had a lot of thought behind the designs so if you're interested, there's an infodump below the cut. It's very long and messy so read at your own risk

I tried to have some sort of historical accuracy (even if it's a fictional story and the exact time period when it happens is ??) mainly bc I'm tired of how celts are portrayed in media (they wore tacky colors please stop with the grey brown leathers fur), and a bit bc I'm a nerd and I can't do anything if I don't do some research before.

On the other hand I wanted to make good character designs that told things about the characters and stuff, so I had to juggle a bit both things. Plus there's not much variation in clothing styles, so I had to do what I could.

I wanted to use colors, jewelery and styles to group or distinguish the characters. So Láeg and Emer wear a very similar color palette, Cú Chulainn has some blue in his mainly red outfit (and also the under tunic thing resembles Emer's) and Ferdia has some red in his mainly blue one.

Láeg and Cú Chulainn wear the same kind of thing, but I gave Cú Chulainn more layers in reference to the 34683 shirts thing. I went no pants wider belt for Ferdia bc honestly I didn't know how else to make a clear distinction as "this one character is from a different place", there's only so much you can do with the few styles there are.

Jewelery choices! This was a lot bc I really like torcs and I wanted to use them again to give Ulster characters and Connacht characters different kinds of torcs. My first instinct was to give Connacht those very heavy ones that have rings at the ends, but then I did some research and those were only found in england so. Then I went to look what kind of torcs were found in each place and I found that they were the same!!! Obviously!!! Bc they are next to eachother!!!

So I took creative choices and as I found some bracelets in Ulster that looked like torcs I went okay those done (plus they are way easier to draw) And I gave Ferdia the spirally one and Cú Chulainn the "bracelet" one. Plus gave a matching bracelet to Láeg. Emer wears a lunula bc her father is described as wearing one in The Hound of Ulster and I liked it.

(some pics for reference: from left to right the torc Ferdia wears, the bracelet Láeg wears and from were I based Cú Chulainn's torc, and the lunula Emer wears)

Also important, the headpiece Láeg wears. I used to draw Cú Chulainn with a similar one just because I liked it, but then after reading I liked that Láeg is the only one wearing it. At first I was going to give Emer a similar one but in the end decided against it to make it exclusive to Láeg and to not give her more jewelery than to Ferdia. I wanted Ferdia to wear a lot and be like, more stylish I guess bc I feel he cares about that stuff (I mean part of the bribe to fight Cú Chulainn was a brooch so)

And I think that's it! Sorry it was a lot hfasjkd but I wanted to share it. If there's something I have missed and you're curious to know about feel free to ask! I might have a long ass answer like this or it might be just because XD And if you have comments or opinions they are also welcome! I'm no expert or anything (just a big nerd) so I apreciate any insight.

And if you've gotten this far thank you for reading my yapping <3

[3584-tropical-fish]

Working my way through some Silt Verses reference sheets, part 1!

I have notes on the pages (transcribed in the alt text) but I’ll throw some bonus thoughts beneath the cut:

First image: The first drawing is basically what I imagine her wearing for most of season one, and probably for most of her life with the Parish. Something that's practical to walk through marshes in and can keep out the rain. The long coat is also good for concealing a revolver. I included the steel toed boots because I love the bit in the season 1 qna where they talk about whether she had a goth phase when she was younger, and then decide that she got a good pair of steel toed boot and kicked people in the shins with them.

The other two were largely because I have been convinced by my friend that she would wear skirts, at least occasionally. I don't think she wears skirts often, but they'd definitely make for good disguise, so I thought it might be a good episode 2 fit. However, if I remember right, episode 2 and episode 4 take place on the same day, so it needed to be an outfit that could become a little more practical for walking through the woods in, and wouldn't get her killed when she burns down the church. Hence the Victorian biking skirt-inspired design! The skirt can easily transition into pants, and the poncho is easy enough to take off so you don't have to deal with any loose clothing.

Second image: The s1 finale look was taken from clothes I'd already drawn her in that made sense to wear while walking through a flooded town. No loose clothing, and sturdy enough to last a walk through a lot of mud.

The clothes she got from Acantha are lighter in color, because Acantha is described as wearing white, which I always find cool. Big fan of the fact that it's healers and Acantha who are described as wearing white. I didn't necessarily get it across very well, but I do imagine that the clothes are a little ill-fitting on her. The backpack with the corpse could probably stand to be a little bigger as well, but hopefully he's a good bit desiccated and can fit nicely.

Third image: I probably could have put her in the same clothes as she had been wearing for the Siege of the Gulch, but I figured she would've been wearing those clothes for a while and would've taken the opportunity to change. Also maybe it would've helped some newcomers trust her more? I don't really know. I did come up with a few symbolic thoughts while drawing the first one, mainly that her color palette would be darker when she was doing stuff directly related to the Parish, to contrast the lighter colors she wore with Acantha. I also decided that she tended to wear her hair down with the Parish so she could hide her face better and avoid people a bit easier (or at least feel less vulnerable. I know I at least feel more exposed when I tie my hair back). So when she goes back to the Gulch, she has a moment where she almost takes it down again, and then decides against it because she's trying to distance herself from who she was before, and ties it up instead.

I don't really have a lot of thoughts on the second drawing besides what I wrote down, but I do like that for the third one she has a blend of who she was at the beginning of the series (long coat) and also who she is becoming (a lighter color scheme). She trimmed her hair at some point while at the Grace because it most definitely had become a mess between seasons 2 and 3, and I like to think that Paige managed to find her a cane once she noticed how her limp had worsened. It's probably not the perfect height and Carpenter probably doesn't use it unless she's having a particularly bad day, but cane user Carpenter my beloved <3

Fourth image: The alt s3 fit is largely for situations where she wants to appear less menacing, especially if once they get into Glottage. Long sleeves also hide any injuries she's gotten so she doesn't rouse suspicions with the authorities. I don't really have a lot of thoughts on the other two! Mainly i just need to do a bit more workshopping on the snare dog bite. Don't really know how that works. Luckily for me she's always wearing long pants so I'm basically never going to draw it.