#i blacked out and woke up to this

[spotlees-trash]

The deer, the myth, the legend

I have drawn him

[sinistercall]

Leave it to the rest of their eclectic little group of tadpole-inflicted comrades to ruin a PERFECTLY radiant afternoon— something in the planets must have aligned for the entire party to be in such a disgustingly good mood, even Lae-zel and Shadowheart are behaving civilly, for once. Even more APPALLING was the scene before him, everyone's favorite warlock doing his honest best to try to lead Ithuriel through he proper steps of a waltz. It'd ALMOST be endearing if Astarion could stomach the sickly sweet sight without wanting to vomit. Wyll's hands holding her's too softly, their bodies too close, their smiles too bright— he's had ENOUGH.

The sad excuse for a novel he'd been reading is slammed shut ABRUPTLY, a dull thud as it's tossed to the side so the vampire can make his way over to the pair.

An IRRITATED click of his teeth is the only sound offered before he oh, so politely shoulders his way into Wyll's place. "Gods above, you're both so clumsy. You'll let me handle this, won't you...?" Whatever the warlock answers is INCONSEQUENCIAL, the spawn already spinning them so their friend is out of eyesight ( the real view is in front of her already, isn't it? ). ❝ My apologies, darling. I just couldn't bear to sit idly by and watch the two of you embarrass yourselves in the middle of the entire camp any longer. ❞

He realizes too late that he's made the grave error of placing himself front-and-center to something that may read more intimate and genuine than it really is— a MISTAKE he won't make twice, though he'll do his best to relish this moment while it lasts. It'd be a shame to waste the good weather, after all. And the paladin just looks so, so STUNNING in the sunlight ( what a shame their most delicious moments under the cover of night ).

❝ I absolutely refuse to believe you've never done this before, not even you can be that uncivilized. ❞ The tiefling's movements are CLUMSY and UNSURE, but not the steps of someone ignorant to the motions— she seems to need little guidance, effortlessly following the sway and flow of his body, pressing herself closer with the delicious kind of confidence he normally has to TEASE out of her. Perhaps, like most things, this is just something else she's lost— forgotten with the rest of the mysteries of her past. Though he's certain there's a little more BLOOD on her hands than either of them know, he silently hopes she's at least had moments like this before, small moments to enjoy herself, to be HAPPY.

A rather UNBECOMING thought, and he catches himself smiling much too casually. He's certainly gotten sloppy. Well, he thinks, no choice but to do what he does best—

❝ You know, there really was no need to try to make me jealous. If you wanted to be close to me, all your sweet little self had to do was ask. ❞ Always one with a flair for the DRAMATIC, he takes it upon himself to pull the paladin impossibly closer, swiftly pressing her flush to him before lowering her into a exagurated dip just so he can press his lips closer to her ADORABLY pointed ears. ❝ Or perhaps, ❞ he hums, ❝ it was me who wanted to hold you just. Like. This. ❞

He pulls her up before he has a chance to dwell on how UNSETTINGLY easy it was for that last part to slip out— the taunt hitting too close to the truth for his comfort. Sloppy indeed....

|| @sanguisstella (o:

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍'𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊'𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐀 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓. 𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐋 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓.

Horrifically the topic of her request had come up within one of those novels 𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐍 had lent to her - his insistence of getting her books was ... endearing to say the least - and she wished to know all she could about the novels presented to her, but there were many things she'd forgotten after the tadpole had burrowed into her mind. There was a strange innocence in the way she approached him, Ithuriel had always known Wyll to be a 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃 and noble man - a protector she felt safe with, someone easy to 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓. Revealing her secret to him was inconsequential, at least at first when the Warlock had promised to teach her - she was unaware that the lesson would begin immediately, and terribly, in front of their many companions. A few chuckles and smiles surround the pair, the warmth of Wyll’s hands allows the crimson shade of embarrassment budding upon the apples of her cheeks was soon to fade into a soft hue of joy - she even lowers her gaze to part his in order to stare down at her feet, observing the 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍 of movement between them. Ithuriel savors it. She feels akin to a ray of light dappling through the lush green canopy framing their camp, an air of 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐄 curiosity bounces her skirts and hair as they dance; it is moments like this, when she is drenched in sunshine, that she can feel Lathander cupping her heart and murmuring in her ear. 

  Her sense of wonder at each step is delightfully sweet, a simplicity and an openness that was almost child - like; within this moment she had found how to be at 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐄 in the middle of her stormy life. For a few minutes in time she was free of every shackle that had ever been placed upon her, she was her own person able to decide what she wanted for herself. Her canines bite softly into her lower lip, pushing the plush in while the vision of one of her companions comes to the forefront of her thoughts. A melody plucks itself within the echoing recesses of her mind, she doesn't remember where it is from but it lends itself well to the situation before her; her feet do not succumb to her usual clumsiness. Even when he seems to trip she catches their footing and keeps pace; although her brow quirks up when she notices that his shoes are 𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 - but her lips were already moving and her head was already lifting to see ... 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐎𝐍.  No no - stop!

  "Oh W-Wyll, I feel like a princess - "

But its too late, the words had spilled most of the way from her tongue, Ithuriel only able to catch the last few - and suddenly her face feels 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆. Her breath catches, she hadn't expected Astarion to prance his way into her personal space; let alone start crooning about his jealousy, she only imagine how he would mock her later about revealing such girlish whimsies. A princess. 𝐇𝐀! Worse still is the way she's unable to turn away from him, did a part of her hope that he'd mosey his way into this waltz? The vampire’s presence invades every corner of her perception, his cool hands against her waist and palm, the teasing scent of his cologne. He’s everywhere and she’s unable to deny how eagerly she 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒 in his visage. 𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐍 is reflected in the clarity of her wide eyes - the pale rays of light igniting his curls into a halo; she hates the way her heart flutters and a nervous giggle leaves her. As though she is a young 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 again looking up at some fae prince and ... 𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘺; 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘸𝘰? She finds herself allowing it at the gentle teasing and genuine grin curling his petaled lips; it suddenly feels safe to open this softer, ethereal side of her soul to him. She shines with the light he provides and he was the brightest shade of gold she’d ever seen, one she wanted to 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐊 herself in. 

  "Ah - Astarion - ! Wait!" 

  Another swell of laughter leaves her once their bodies are 𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 and he is expertly tilting her back to see a new angle of the world, palm holding the small of her back with a strength hidden by his lovely form. Ithuriel pulls her focus from the touches across her body to focus on the mass of birch trees behind them; waves of black and white - a never ending ocean with a bright leafy abyss dappled with brilliant gold patches. Her hair brushes the dirt when she’s suddenly descending even further. Ithuriel instinctively coils her arms around his back and shoulder to cling into the fabric of his shirt; perhaps she was frightened he would drop her? Hot breath tickles her ears, causing them to flutter like flustered 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐘 wings - she feels light as a feather on a spring breeze; floating over the lily ponds and catching the blossoming hue of their flowers and her face. It pains her that she cannot pick up the rush of his blood - the soft 𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐏𝐒 in his chest were silent … and she cups the back of his head. Her mind opens to him once they begin to straighten out again, although her arms do not shift from their embrace - her heels lift and her fingers card through his hair ... It is time for 𝐇𝐄𝐑 to whisper lilting croons into his pointy ear, or rather, for sweet words of adoration to caress across the loathed scars upon his throat. 

  "Then I'll be sure to ask you everyday, I know how embarrassed you get over this - Don't worry, it will be our little secret." 

  Ithuriel doesn't wait for Astarion to catch up, she cannot 𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐊 his defenses to come back when she finally has him so vulnerable and moldable - maybe right now he will finally 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑 her words. I care for you. Let me in ... please. She hugs him firmly. Implacably - the warmth pouring from her soul a confirmation that she would do this as long as he needed. All 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓. All 𝐃𝐀𝐘 - until their bodies settle into place and become intertwined trees, she would be there to sink her roots with his. She doesn't fail to note how easily their bodies mold and move to fit the other, and their forms pressed so intimately together seems to slow her racing heart. No longer does her skin produce electric shocks but instead melts into a pleasant enduring sense of 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 that pulls a sigh from her lips. 

  𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦 - 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦.

  However time stalled for no man and soon she's remiss to find herself lowering down onto the flats of her feet, connecting fully with the earth once more. Already she misses the scent of his perfume. What had felt like an eternity to her is but a few minutes of time as they continue their waltz throughout camp. Thankfully none of their companions notice the 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 way she leans into him, it is easier to feel free when he is with her; it is easier to be 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅𝐈𝐒𝐇 enough to grasp what she wants. To allow her scarred fingers to 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 the 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 of his soul. As much as she yearns to stay in this sanctuary the paladin decides to take it upon herself to bring them both down from that whimsical little ... moment they had just shared. She opts to take hold of his hands again and spin their steps closer towards the edge of camp. She senses a fleeting chance to tease him back within his stunned state, an opportunity she was not above taking - not when he looked so ... 

𝘏𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘎𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦?

  Her words follow the sway of their bodies and she begs her voice to not betray her, he would laugh at the depth of feeling within her chest. Ithuriel is unsure if he would ever be able to accept it. "I was actually speaking to Wyll to show me this dance so I could better understand the movements of the characters in the book you lent me. Although there were many other things I did not know about either, would you like to be the one to teach me all of them, Darlin - Ah - !"

  The edge of a root snags under her ankle and little can be done before she stumbles just enough for gravity to take them both tumbling down the hill’s curve, angled just enough that there is no hope of stopping the descent into the valley below. Verdant ribbons lick against her camp clothes, painting the pale linen strokes of lush green and bright yellow as she rolled through the foliage. Her laughter echoes through the valley they find themselves collapsing into, a glimpse into an 𝐔𝐍𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐃 version of her soul; free of Bhaal, of duty, of rules - and the world's wonder reflects in her starry cerise eyes. Ithuriel lifts her face towards the sky once the momentum stops and her flailing form is brought to a halt, the clouds are beautifully swept across the endless azure of the sky - and the burning yolk of the sun seems to smile down at her. Soon that happiness is directed towards the 𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 as she observes his messy tresses - unable to help herself but to pluck some of the grass from them. Gods above he looks perfectly 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒 and she knows she looks just as messy - the snorts and gasps for air don't stop and only after using all of her will to relax does she speak:

  "Y - You look like a potted plant!"

  Her chest jumps when she finally settles back down, laughter relaxing into low giggles, having moved closer towards the vampire once more; it seems she was interested in the heat he managed to bring to her cheeks. Soon those plucky slim fingers are carefully 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 through the pale curls framing around the angle of his temple, each thread alight with the brilliant luminescent 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐎 behind her silhouette. She's curious in how being around him manages to stretch time - their ticking bombs meant little to her right now; somehow as long as he is beside her she knows her heart will still find a way to 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐏. Ithuriel slips a few flowers by his ear, followed by a gentle caress to the beautifully carved face under her, “There … some daisies and dandelions, you do make a rather pretty vase, Astarion, like you were made to only exist in the sun.” Her own hair had become unraveled with their tumble - and it creates a curtain around their heads when she gazes at him, a waterfall of Lathander's light. The fire behind her eyes, usually intense enough to sear flesh and bone, had simmered down into crackling 𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐒 while she regarded him. Part of her longs to curl her fingers around the back of his head to have him rest against her. Instead she lowers into the sea of grass beside him, both of them hidden away from the rest of the world's judgemental 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒; she felt safe interlocking their fingers and pressing their foreheads close. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩. It's quiet away from camp and it feels almost wrong to break it.

  "Let's stay here for a while longer, I'm sure the others will come in due time - but I wouldn't mind having some alone time with you. Will that help cure you of your jealousy?"

━━ @sanguisstella

[bacchuschucklefuck]

beautiful! majestic!

[blueskittlesart]

:)

[bluegiragi]

underground fighter au goes crazy (inspired by this threadfic over on twitter)

early access + nsfw on patreon

[speltfields]

you swing by marnies first thing in the morning to buy a new cow and this guy answers the door wyd 🤨❓️

[mizaruwu]

Dungeon meshi's elven earmuffs are so cute and ridiculous so of course I had to draw the chain wearing them

[kosmical]

am i a bad brother sister ?

[02511213942]

"you look like a carrie stunt double"

[bunnieswithknives]

You can't wake up, this is not a dream You're part of a machine, you are not a human being!

Separated bc I like how they turned out

[septembersart]

A Court of Fey and Flowers

[thoriffix]

yes. yesss

[ceilidho]

ghost asking price to fuck you because price was older and had more experience. wanted price to show him how to make you feel the best, what to do. :3

and now. i am going. to shriek. slight twist on this because I don't necessarily envision a threesome here, but I think Ghost would enjoy Price taking a look at you and guiding him.

Ghost bringing you to Price for his approval and then locking the door behind the two of you when you step into his office. Then leaning down to whisper into your ear that Price is a good man, that there's no one Ghost trusts more than him, that he trusts him with his life, every single day, without question.

He sits you on his lap and spreads your legs over his, flipping your skirt up and just nudging your panties to the side. You let him even though you can't help the way you grip Ghost's legs, nails digging deep into his thighs, even through the material of his pants.

You had a mind to bolt, to freak out. To yell at Ghost that you're not some plaything and stomp out of the room. But it doesn't come out. You sit there, lost for words and breathing in too little oxygen, quick little hitches that betray your anxiety.

Price leans against the desk to watch the two of you, eyes calm in spite of the show being put on for him. Like this happens every day.

You think Ghost's been with women before so you almost wonder if they've done this before, but somehow it feels different. It feels reverent. You feel it more so when you peek over your shoulder and catch Ghost staring up at his captain's face, eyes intense. Searching for his approval. Looking at him like he's brought something home and needs to be reassured that he did good.

"She lets me put it in twice a day," he says, matter of factly more than a boast. The lightning zap of shameful pleasure nearly bowls you over, but he keeps you pressed to him, back to chest. Holds you steady in place. Anticipates how much of a shock his words would come to you.

"You make her come every time?" Price asks, voice gravelly and you hate, hate, hate that it makes you clench up. It shouldn't. He's your boyfriend's boss, his captain - a man you've (up to now) looked at with nothing but respect and cool distance. His voice shouldn't make you wet.

You jolt when Ghost's rough fingers pass over your clit. "Every time. Sometimes more."

"Good lad."

You choke on a whimper when Ghost's hips bump up into you, hard cock pressing against your ass. The grunt that spills out of him is visceral, barbed like wire. Like Price's words affect him just as much as you.

[da-janela-lateral]

Reigen critically hit by ripe jackfruit. Post.

[erodingsinner]

I am cruel, I am gentle, I can make you laugh.

[starleska]

If you're still taking writing requests, could you do possessive Wally headcanons?

*cracks knuckles* oh anon, i most certainly can 😈 yandere!Wally fans (me too 😳), this one's for you! (this is less headcanons and more a oneshot... kinda wanna write the whole thing 🙈)

content warnings for possessive behaviour, manipulation, threats, arson, entrapment and kidnapping!

Possessive/Yandere!Wally Darling x Reader headcanons

👁 it all started so well. Wally was a Darling both in name and behaviour, and you fell hard and fast. such an attentive sweetheart, from the moment you moved into the neighbourhood it was as if he were always at your side. anywhere else, you may have been unnerved, but Wally's simple warmth and easy smile dispelled all of your doubts. while you tried to spread your time equally between your kind new neighbours, you somehow always found yourself in Wally's presence, talking to him for hours.

👁 in time, you found yourself becoming bolder. you start returning Wally's curious glances, and soon allow your eyes to linger a touch longer than they should. curiously (and with a little bit of a thrill), you notice that Wally seems incapable of breaking eye contact - no matter how long you stare, he'll always stare right back, unperturbed.

👁 one day, you find yourself closer to Wally than usual. you're half-pressed against one another on your sofa, Wally's cheek nestled in the crook of your shoulder. he's drawing something in his sketchbook: an indistinct, wobbly shape that you can't make heads or tails of. while Wally's right hand scribbles furiously with his pencil, the fingers of his unoccupied left hand spill at your side, reflexively clenching every now and again with the automatic motions of his drawing.

👁 the closeness imbues you with a newfound confidence. you take a breath, steady yourself...and reach across, brushing your fingers lightly across Wally's own. Wally's eyes snap towards you. for a moment, his pupils blow so wide you think they might just swallow you.

👁 the next day, your house catches fire. such an incident is unheard of in this neighbourhood, and all your neighbours are horrified for you. however, Wally is strangely calm. "I'm sorry you lost so much," he says, still smiling. "Would you like to live with me?"

👁 you're shaken - but accept Wally's offer. the shock of the fire takes a few days to wear off, but nothing could be more unsettling than living in close quarters with Wally Darling. existing within the living, breathing (creaking? squeaking) walls of his Home has an atypical effect on the puppet. Wally's voice is lower, and he moves with more purpose, as if he and Home are one and the same: symbiotic entities which exist in tandem with one another.

👁 to add to your creeping sense of dread, Wally flips the script on your personal space. now he is the one letting his fingers slip easily around your waist, and fixing you with uncomfortable, impossible-to-ignore stares. you try to laugh off his behaviour, questioning him openly if he enjoys having you as a guest so much. for once, Wally doesn't smile when he replies, "I love you living with me."

👁 it isn't until a week has passed that you learn all the doors are locked, and Wally never gave you a key. you try wrestling with the door handle, but it doesn't budge. then you try the windows, but they're sealed shut. 'I'm not trapped!' you think to yourself. 'Wally is just being a good neighbour - he wants to keep me safe.' but that still doesn't stop you from panicking, scouring the house for the heaviest thing you can find and trying to smash the window. the glass does not break. Home suddenly groans with the sound of a thousand old floorboards and overloaded pipes - a dreadful, ear-rending noise - causing the glass in the window to triple in height and thickness right before your eyes.

👁 terrified, you scramble backwards to run out of the kitchen - only to run smack into Wally. you collapse to the floor and gaze up at Wally, standing in the doorway with his hands tucked behind his back, that cat's smile of his holds some private amusement.

👁 "did you try to leave Home?" Wally asks. "Silly, silly." he takes a step towards you, and then another - slow and loping steps, his cute puppet form now moving in a way equal parts unnatural and sinister. he crouches next to you, those eyes now whirlpools of void which obscure all but the slight white rim of his scleras. "Try again," Wally whispers. "I'd like that very much."