#today I bring you:

[beeneedssleep]

Cyprian has those princess curls ✨️

Sorry my handwriting is hard to read. That is just how it is, but I hate adding text on procreate.

[xhollowfaerie]

Vergüenza

(I was honestly surprised I haven't seen more people write this? I'm also kinda shy about posting this... Praying to Andraste that nobody who knows me irl other than my partner ever finds this. Yes I swear I am trying to piece all my Lucanis drabbles together somehow and post them on ao3 very soon!! Is this too niche or ooc? Idk. This actually started from the idea of Spite basically lowkey stalking? Rook and seeing Taash hit on her, then running to tell Lucanis, but it uh, turned into this instead. Oops. And no, he hasn't told him yet. )

Tags: nsfw, masturbation (not very graphic though), demi4demi inexperienced Rookanis, Lucanis is down horrendous

-

Spite scared the daylight out of the Crow when he snuck up on him.

"Lucanis! Bad news. Spite must tell you! Was following Rook, and-"

“Mierda, this is what you've been doing, when you finally give me some peace? You… you follow her around, like a dog?”

Spite bared his teeth. “Not like you? Think you’re so much better. Always pouting. Missing her. Like a dog. Like a sad. Puppy.”

Lucanis didn't dignify him with a witty retort, and instead kept prodding.

“So you watch her? All day?”

“And night! Watch Rook. Beautiful. Peaceful. So soft. Smells. So good. I want to touch her. Lucanis. You want. To. Touch her!”

“Oye, what am I going to do with you… wait- you- you watched her sleep? Are you insane?”

He nodded happily. “I see more of Rook. More than Lucanis. Her body. Plump, delicious. I want to taste it.”

Lucanis's face flared. He held a hand in front of himself to discourage Spite from talking, and he could hear chatter behind the pantry door. He felt his digits start trembling, his ears considerably reddening. He had to find a way to shut him up before the things he said completely demolished his composure.

“Please, Spite, for the love of all that’s-”

That was not enough to deter a demon of Determination. Of Passion.

“Her curvesss. Will feel so good in our hands, Lucanis. Her thighs. Thick. Warm. Wrapped around usss. Taking us.  All of us. Deeper.”

“No, no, no, no, no, we've talked about this-”

“Feel her, Lucanis! Taste her! Make her cry for us. Why do you deny us?! Nnnrgh, I WANT ROOK!”

He made the Crow see what he saw, a blissfully disheveled Kore, resting on the couch in her room. Her legs were turned towards the edge of the couch, left folded to tuck her foot behind the groove of her right knee, back resting against the plush fabric. One arm was draped across her midsection, while the other served as a pillow for her head. She slept so soundly, it was hard to even make out if she was breathing from afar, but, of course, Spite had inspected her… intimately. Her pale pink chemise, too short to cover her ample curves, stretched deliciously over the fullness of her chest, revealing more than enough to make Lucanis plant his trembling hands onto the stone wall as he felt his knees grow weak, breathing heavily.

“Sangre del Hacedor” he mouthed with a wince as he became painfully aware of the restraint of his pants. His forehead joined the cold surface, in hopes to offer some relief to the blazing sensation across his cheeks, neck and ears, squeezing his eyes shut. He had to get that image out of his head, or he would lose what little sanity he had left.

Lucanis, he heard her voice dance within his thoughts, enunciating his name with her irresistible accent, prompting him to whimper helplessly.

“No, I can’t, Rook. You are too precious, too special. I can’t- This is- deplorable, I’m-” “Hard” Spite teased, letting out a snicker.

“Lucanis! So hard. For Rook. Again.”

His dexterous hands had lost any deftness as they cupped his face in shame. He took a deep, wavering breath into his lungs.

You’re my favourite Crow.

Dark, complex and intriguing.

I’m still here.

Her words haunted him. The pathetically shaky breath that left his lips announced his resignation as he, for the… oh, he had lost count, reached towards the lower half of his abdomen. It was too much. The pain, the throbbing sensation, the heat. He couldn’t think. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to focus for days, like he did at first, until he finally caved and began searching for any semblance of relief.

Spite cackled gleefully.

“Again! Again, Lucanis! How many times? Eight? Nine? Ten?”

He tried his best to ignore Spite, focusing on his memories of Rook, of her loving smile, her kind eyes, the addictive shape of her waist, the sensation of her fingertips on his skin, the arch of her cupid’s bow, her inviting lips, her beautiful, glittering makeup, always so perfectly put together, the elegance with which her hips swayed when she was around him… Her gentle, comforting voice, her brilliance, her impressive knowledge of magic, of cultures and languages and history, the ease with which she relaxed around him, around Spite. The way she handled Spite, so naturally. The jokes. The flirting. The protectiveness she displayed, for both of them. The care she bestowed onto him, that gentle, fragile moment when they’d almost kissed. The attention she gave him. The way she asked if he had managed to sleep. The way she inched towards him, always getting closer. The way she blushed when he rarely dared to court her, her surprise, her bashful giggles when Spite would speak their thoughts about her out loud. Her intoxicating, sweet scent. How she fought tooth and nail for what was right. Her honeyed laugh. Her tears, bouncing like pearls off the bewitching roundness of her cheeks.

The way she made him coffee.

“Want to? Grab her hair. Make her squeal. Slide inside, feel her tighten. All of her. Yours. Ours. All to ourselves.”

“Fuck” he rasped under his breath, closing his eyes in an attempt to avoid fully acknowledging what he was doing. He thought of the time he caught her in his arms mid battle, feeling her land on his chest, pressing her softness into him, feeling the weight of her on top. His pace quickened, remembering that split second that he dared to look into her eyes, the firm grip he had on her hip, the way his fingers perfectly followed the curve of her lower back, the gaze of a starving siren staring back at him as her eyes seemed to devour him alive.

“Never been inside. Before. But you want to. So desperate. To fill her. Claim her. Please her.”

He denied it for so long. He loved her too much. Much too much. But that look, and so many other fugitive glances.

He couldn’t believe, or, maybe he didn’t want to. Maybe it was easier to distance himself that way. He just couldn’t fathom.

That…

neediness in her eyes. 

It drove him crazy. Made him feral. It pushed him to the brink of-

“Kore” he shuddered, his voice pitching as he buried his face into his arm, a sad attempt at muffling the grunting and panting as he tried to catch his breath. A shiver echoed through him.

Spite was gone again. For now. Of course, he got what he wanted. Pulling on his strings until he snapped. Making sure to embarrass and humiliate him as much as humanly - demonically possible.

Maldito. 

Leaving Lucanis in an incriminating setting of his own sweat and… Ugh. Now he had to clean up.

So pathetic… I need to stay away from her. I have to. I don’t know what I’ll do when I can’t hold back anymore.

A Crow’s training tested every limit, heightened every endurance. And yet. The one weakness he had, the most vulnerable spot, he could have never trained out of himself. It etched itself too deep within his very essence. A beautiful, pink rose, cradling a single black feather. It was Rook. His Achilles’ heel.

[lukitua]

The moon floated on the still black waters, shattering and re-forming as her ripples washed over it.

Daenerys in the Womb of the World

[dolceaspidenera]

Thinking about this line from Cazador and what implies:

I keep thinking about how strange and new must have been for Astarion to finally be surrounded by people who actually listen to him and no one there to punish him for speaking up. 

How it must have felt for him to be able to freely joke around and find that Tav actually laughs at his jokes and even joins in the fun. How new it must have been to be able to express himself and have people who actually listen to him and don't treat him like he is a nuisance, but truly listen to what he has to say. 

I imagine a Tav who just listens, even when he is complaining and whining on purpose, they listen and maybe smile a bit between themselves because they've seen through him, and they never tell him to shut up, they let him vent, they listen to his stories about Cazador, they laugh with him at his jokes. 

No wonder he falls so hard for Tav or becomes very fond of them in a friendship route.

After 200 years where even the Gods didn't care to listen, he has found someone who sits down with him and hears him out.

[barghest-arts]

Modern Prometheus.

[kedreeva]

I need you to understand that the very straight and immediate line from someone's very confident "I don't like mice/I've handled mice before so I know what they're like" to joyous wonder as they hold the first calm, friendly mouse they've ever held and murmur "they're so soft/sweet/warm/gentle" practically to themselves is basically a drug

"I work at a petstore," says the young man with much disdain, "so I don't really need to hold another one. I know what they're like."

"These aren't petstore mice," I say, as I turn my hand over and the mouse holds on tighter. "They're not like any mouse you've ever held," I say, as I close my hand gently around the mouse and flip her onto her back for a second so I can touch her mouth and demonstrate how difficult it would be to get one of my mice to bite.

"I'm sure you've handled them extensively from a very young age, though."

"They haven't been handled before today, except to be moved into clean cages." She arranges herself in my hand and cleans her face. "Are you sure you don't want to hold one?"

He opens his hands, and she pours from my hand into his like a viscous liquid. She is soft and warm and sweet, and his entire face lights up when she hunkers down onto his warm hand and closes her eyes.

"....She's changing my mind."

"They tend to do that when you leave it open."

He took her and two companions home.

[sausage-rolll]

The quiet tragedy of shadow of the erdtree is playing through the DLC, encountering cross after cross along your journey and slowly coming to the haunting realisation that Miquella, the person you’ve been tailing throughout the entirety of the DLC, the creator of the Haligtree and protector of its denizens, the most fearsome and kind demigod of them all… Is long dead.

He’s not at the divine gates seeking godhood. Not really. The person known as Miquella is buried at the base of each and every cross in the land. Survived only by a few select ailing entities. St. Trina, slowly wilting at the bottom of the world, The Scadutree avatar who inherited his greatrune, and Miquella the Kind at the very peak of Enir-Ilim.

He not only abandoned his flesh, but went so far as to fracture his very soul. His doubts, his fear, his love. All abandoned in an attempt to fashion a perfect god. To right the wrongs of his mother and people and finally bring the world peace.

His flesh, his power, his birthright, his fate, his fear, his doubts, his love… after leaving all that behind, how much of what’s left is actually Miquella?

Miquella may have hurt many people in his quest for godhood, but he himself was never spared from that very same pain. He may have stripped Radahn and Mohg of their dignity and sense of self to fashion into the perfect consort, but he was just as willing to do the same to himself to fashion into the perfect god.

[kimtaegis]

JIN HUGS JIN HUGS! for @jinstronaut ♡

cr. namuspromised, dwellingsouls, 0613data

[blairamok]

BILDAD THE SHUHITE!?

[benevolenterrancy]

("Always. Continuously. With increasing apprehension, and decreasing hope. I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday. I will love you as a corpse loves the beak of the vulture. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this." -- paraphrased from The Beatrice Letters, Lemony Snicket)

[yooboobies]

he is just too dangerous | for @rjshope

{cr: namuspromised}

[acarinarium]

Do you ever just think about sturddlefish? I do

[ladyinthebluebox]

It's about to get fun!

[thisischeri]

Apple iBook G3 Tangerine Clamshell featured in Legally Blonde, 2001

Instagram: cheri.png

[dontbelasagnax]

Happy Mustache Cody Day!!!! A long time ago I promised I'd draw snodywan (snail codywan) snissing (snail kissing) and then quickly realized that uh. That's snex (snail sex). So I've finally bitten the bullet and drawn snorn (snail porn) of Snobi-Wan (snail Obi-Wan) and Snody (snail Cody).

yes for the fully colored artwork I searched "snail sex" and chose a stock photo of snails fucking as my reference.

[arsuf]

ASSASSIN’S CREED (2007)