#when it's not even august

[eclaire-went-bam]

since i like am into kagepro again i kinda wanna finish that headphone actor nemu cover i started and proceeded to never finish

[razables]

power

[hinamie]

this past year has easily been one of the most productive and artistically formative years in recent memory and i'm so incredibly proud and grateful to have this little corner of the internet full of people who share my interests and enjoy my art <3

from the bottom of my heart, thank you to everyone who has supported me in 2024! I'll keep drawing and keep improving so here's hoping 2025 brings just as much growth!

[ayyy-pee]

Center Stage

suguru whimpers as he pounds into you, folds your legs until there’s a knee on each side of your head. you're so good he has to bite back a gasp when your walls squeeze down on him, gripping his cock so fucking hard he sees stars. his eyes roll back when he reaches a hand down to your clit, swollen and sensitive and he feels the sudden gush of your arousal drip down between your bodies. suguru loves how your tight little cunt always takes him so well, how it makes room for him and holds him like it never wants to let go.

every thrust, every roll of his hips, every slap of your skin meeting has suguru leaning down to groan into the crook of your neck. he doesn’t let up, pounding into you like a man possessed. and he is. your pussy makes him insane, makes him want to scream, makes him want to fucking cry.

it feels like heaven in your walls.

suguru loves to look between you, where your bodies connect and see the creamy mess you’ve made on him. fuck he loves how your pussy always makes a mess. it’s one of his favorite things about you.

that and the way your lips part when he pistons his hips a certain way, touches that sweet spot you love. how your head falls back and your back arches when he wraps his thick fingers around your neck, makes you hold his weight as he fucks into you with reckless abandon. the way your little moans fall from that pretty mouth he loves to bury his cock in. he loves all of that.

he loves the way your hands find his hair and you pull. not gentle at all, just the way he likes. you’re as a desperate and fucking needy as he is.

“come on baby. tell me how much you love my cock.” he pleads. he knows you love it. you've told him plenty of times. but suguru also loves to get his ego stroked.

“i love it, ah- fuck, fuck i love your cock!” you whimper beneath him like the good girl you always are. all he ever has to do is ask and you’ll deliver every time. so obedient. it’s why you’re his favorite.

suguru can feel your walls softly convulsing around him. you’re so close. but while your words were good, they’re weren’t good enough. so suguru slows his pace, staring down at you with half lidded eyes. he wants you to do it right.

“pretty girl forgot her manners,” he chides, clicking his tongue. “i love your cock, what?”

he bottoms out with a particularly harsh thrust that has you crying out, your fingers tightening in his tresses and he chuckles, his dick twitching within the confines of your cunt.

“oh fuck! i love your cock master geto”

there it is.

you peer up through your lashes at the man above you and the smug smile on suguru’s lips sends you spiraling over the edge, your orgasm rushing over you, your body shivering as wave after wave hits you. and your sweet lips muttering his formal title, it has him burying his face in your neck again, whining as his hips stutter with every sloppy thrust until his balls tighten.

he grips your thigh hard, high pitched whimpers falling freely from his mouth as his cock stiffens and his hot, white seed fills your twitching pussy. the release has suguru shaking, struggling to hold his weight as your pussy milks him of every fucking drop.

you’re both panting, both catching your breath as suguru kisses you desperately, pressing kisses to your face, to your lips. and he’s still cumming

“m-master geto,” you mutter between kisses. he hasn’t pulled out of you, just keeps rolling his hips into your slowly, softly as he continues to litter your lips and face with kisses.

suguru hums in acknowledgment.

“you’ll be late to session tonight,” you warn him. “you know there will be big donors there. you don’t want to be late.”

ah yes, the work never stops for suguru. he would love to stay here, on the floor of his stage but it wouldn’t be a good look to have his donors and worshippers walk in on you both in the middle of such a salacious act.

and you, his most favorite follower. there's no way in hell allow anyone to leave the room alive if they saw you this way. no, you're meant to be seen by him this way and him alone. even with your current situation, he knows you are loyal to him. so with a hiss, suguru pulls out of you, smirking when he sees the way you pout at the loss of fullness.

cute.

“come and see me after session” he tells you with one last press of his lips to yours. he crawls off of you carefully and fixes his robe. you nod, watching as he exits the room.

he knows where to find you.

suguru always finds you the moment he enters the room, packed with worshippers ready to give themselves to him. and you’re among them, loyal as ever to him, even as you bow politely and pledge yourself to the organization alongside your husband.

[arinmoss]

He's a unicorn

[minalots]

🌪️

(alts under the more tab)

(AVAILABLE AS A PRINT RAHHHHHHHHHHHHH)

[cozylittleartblog]

bug doodles so i can say i drew something

[flovoid]

When an apple falls off a tree

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

TIL that once the Northern lords find out that Jon is Rhaegar’s son, they will detest him to the point of immediately slitting their wrists instead of accepting him as a fair and worthy leader…

….nevermind that 1) the Northern lords have thus far shown NO hostility towards Rhaegar, 2) Jon is also LYANNA STARK’s son who has thus far been romanticized to some degree, 3) Jon was raised and directly acknowledged as NED STARK’s son, the very same Ned who the mountain clans are willing to die in a raging winter for, the very same Ned whose fathering of Jon compells Alys Karstark and other minor lords to go to the Wall in search for the Lord Commander….

…none of that will ever matter. Because our headcannons dictate that Rhaegar sucks so Jon sucks ass as well, cannon be damned 🙂

[httpiastri]

missing paul's self-sprays today :(

[ann-chovi]

Adopted a Flotsam on Neo yesterday <3

[iconicranboo]

RANBOO: the backrooms escalator ↙️ … oh god, look! the backrooms elevator ⬇️ … oh good, the backrooms staircase ↖️ *hit by a particle sub* OW!

[heartbreakprincewille]

I was watching the scene where Wille points the gun at August and it's such a brilliant scene for many reasons but the one that hit me the most is that Simon got to see the degree to which Wille was affected by the video.

In the Music Room fight that went down between them in the last episode, Simon basically says that Wille had it easy in terms of facing the repercussions of the video as compared to Simon. And Wille is rightfully offended because Simon fails to understand that just because the manner in which they both suffered was different, it doesn't mean that the suffering itself was any less for Wilhelm.

Like, when Wilhelm points the gun at August, the anger that flashes on his face is not some sort of a "quarrel" between the Royals, it's Wilhelm's pain resurfacing in the form of sheer anger, all the sleepless nights and tears bubbling and making their way into his voice. It's so evident in that scene, how Wilhelm was deeply affected by everything that went down and now that Simon had a chance to bring some justice to both of them, August snooped in and took that chance away from them. Like, Simon must have finally understood that the game is not rigged just for him, but Wilhelm is as much of a victim as Simon is. That Wilhelm's hurt ran so deep that he was ready to blow off his own cousin's head. And it could be one of the realizations that helped Simon understand that it's not him vs Wille, they both were equally devastated by August's actions and even more so, Wille's loyalty will always lie with what's right, and with Simon.

[distinctlywhumpthing]

In League – Bath

Masterlist

Late-19th century, indentured servitude, past-noncon implied, power imbalance, carewhumper/sympathetic whumper dynamics. Beta read by @alittlewhump!

August presses himself into the corner. 

As far as he can get from the old copper soaking tub Midge filled with hot water, pitcher by pitcher, from the proper one down the hall. Wyatt knew this would be an ordeal and wanted to save August and the rest of the house from it transpiring in the shared washroom. 

He already took off his jacket and waistcoat to work at his desk earlier. His sleeves rolled up and held in place by the stays so they wouldn’t get marked by ink. But he finished all the books an hour ago. 

Time to get this over with. 

August shakes his head as soon as Wyatt meets his eyes. 

“It’s all right.” He keeps his distance, pushes the chair a little closer to his desk. Straightens the papers hanging over the edge before looking back at August. “It’s just a bath.” 

The younger boy trembles. “P-please, sir—” He’s trying not to cry, swiping at his cheeks with the too-long sleeves of his borrowed shirt, pushing out his chin determinedly. “I’ll wash with the basin and cloth. Please—”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Wyatt says, taking a small step to the side. Even though it puts him no closer to August, the boy cringes at the movement. “The doctor said a proper bath. We’ve already delayed two more days.” 

August eyes the tub over Wyatt’s shoulder. He presses his lips together and shakes his head. “Please, sir. I can’t…” 

“What would you have me do?” He sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “I’ve already—oh, August. August, lad.” 

He cries in earnest now, hiccuping quiet sobs, and gives up wiping the tears away, arms wrapped around his middle instead. Holding himself as though he might fall to pieces. “I-I-I-can’t, I can’t, s-s-sir. I’m sorry—”

Wyatt tries to move closer and August yelps, sticking both hands out, palms forward in defense. With nowhere to go since he’s cornered himself, his sobs only grow more ragged. 

He’s no good at calming himself, not when Wyatt’s standing right there and could do it for him. He got by on his own many, many times but it’s different now he’s tasted the very warmth and comfort he spent all that time wanting, craving, needing. 

“August—” 

“Nnnonono—” Wyatt can’t get near him and he’s swiftly becoming hysterical, hands still outstretched, sobs racking through him so he shakes on the spot. His eyes are glued to the tub, barely even seeing Wyatt except as an extension of the threat. 

Wyatt steps aside to sit on the foot of his bed and the crying falters. In truth, he’s closer to August now, just an arm’s reach away, but the footboard between them like an iron fence is enough to lessen the threat. 

“C’mere. Come sit with me.” He holds out his hand and waits, doesn’t need to push. Bullying will only make August more desperate and wild. Patience finds the path of least resistance. He’s done it enough times, earned the trust of all the others, one by one, inch by inch.  

It takes another moment and then August’s cool fingers grasp his. He lets himself be reeled in to stand in front of Wyatt. His face is all ruddy, cheeks wet enough that Wyatt can’t catch sight of the new tears once they fall from his lower lashes. 

“All’s right, lad. All will be right,” Wyatt pulls him into his lap, settling the waif of a boy on one thigh. He couldn’t—nor would he ever—do this with any of the others but this one seems to find himself the exception in a steadily rising number of situations. 

August is shaking, eyes unfocused like he has nothing to see now that he can’t watch the tub. He gasps and hiccups, trying to stop himself crying. 

“You must breathe, lamb. Evenly, in and out.” Wyatt places a hand on the center of his chest. “Come now or you’ll faint,” he chides. 

He manages a shaky exhale.

“That’s it.” Wyatt pushes some of the matted waves off his forehead. How might he react to the suggestion of a haircut to keep the hair from falling into his eyes so much? He tucks another tangled lock behind August’s ear and leaves his hand there, thumb stroking his temple. “There you go, in and out.” 

As soon as he recovers his breath, he starts apologising, gripping Wyatt’s forearm with both hands. “I’m sorry, sir. Please forgive me. I’m so sorry, I—”

“Hush. Hush, now.” He pulls his handkerchief out of his pocket. “Dry your tears. All’s right.”

August obeys, sniffling. His hands fall to his lap, twisting the square of fabric around one fingertip, avoiding Wyatt’s gaze. Uncertain what to do with himself when he isn’t permitted to grovel. 

Wyatt lifts his chin with a crooked finger and thumb. “The most favourable course is if you go willingly. For both our sakes.” 

He only blinks at him with those wide, shining eyes. All the fight gone.

“I’d much rather be proud of you than have to force you.” August bites his lip, like he’s thinking it over but Wyatt knows he found an in. The boy is as hungry for praise as he is for a gentle touch. “I believe you can manage it.” 

August flushes, even more swayed by the slightest confidence in his capabilities. “Yes, sir.” 

His next task will be coaxing August to drop the loathsome honorifics. 

“Come on. There’s a good lad.” He keeps an arm around August to lead him to the tub, which he hopes is holding its heat beside the fire. 

August goes rigid as soon as Wyatt steps forward, digging in his heels until his stocking feet slide on the hardwood. But he doesn’t twist away. He lets himself be pulled, trembling but with his mouth set in a determined line. At the edge of the carpet, he trips into Wyatt and stays there, pressing against his side, as he finally looks into the water. It’s milky white from the soap, little bubbles resting among the foam on the surface. 

Wyatt takes one of his hands and, with a gentle tug, lowers their entwined fingers to the water. August gasps and Wyatt lets him pull both of their hands away. “Sir, it’s warm.” 

“So it is.” 

“But…” He looks back and forth to the tub, brow furrowed.

“Certainly you’ve had a hot bath before.”

He shakes his head. 

“I would have thought a house like Elmwood had all the latest fittings even in the servant’s washroom.” 

“Of course, sir.” He drops his eyes, gaze circling the oval edge of the tub. His grip on Wyatt’s hand tightens subtly before relaxing again.“But I didn’t wish to take it from anyone else or be greedy.”

He can picture young August never asking for a second helping, taking cold baths. Quietly and diligently going about his work, constantly in fear of losing his place. Only to wind up with Keats. He had a reputation for being ruthless. How that might devolve when he had absolute power over someone, Wyatt didn’t like to imagine. August already demonstrated enough of its consequences to paint an abhorrent picture. 

Wyatt wishes to tell him he’s finally found a place he doesn’t have to earn, where he’ll be safe. Where he can stay as long as he chooses. Same as all the others, each needing it desperately in one way or another. He’d never be able to hear it now. 

He squeezes the younger boy’s shoulder. “You’re too good for your own good, lad.” August’s still too fixated on the looming task to give Wyatt more than an obedient hum of agreement. They had better get on before he abandons his stoic determination. 

August seems to lose himself as he undresses, movements slowing the further he gets. Wyatt assures him he can leave on his drawers but he only nods numbly, crossing his shaking arms over his bare torso. 

“Look at me.” He ducks his head to catch August’s eyes. “I’ll not hurt you, I mean to keep that promise.”

“I—” He bites his lip and nods.

“All right?” 

The boy dips his head again.  

“Shall I help you?” 

He nods, though Wyatt wonders how much of that is just a reflex. He lifts him under the arms gently to lower him—

August cries out before he even touches water, twisting and flailing until his hands and feet find purchase. Wyatt bears the assault, afraid of causing injury if he simply drops him like a stone, until August eventually manages to wrap himself around him. 

It takes a moment to find his voice. “Are you quite finished?” 

They must look a sight. August clings to him so tightly, he doesn't need to be held, leaving Wyatt’s arms free to hold away from his sides if only to reduce their contact by some modicum. After all the prior upsets, he doesn’t give a damn about having Wyatt between his legs at this moment. 

August buries his face in Wyatt’s neck. “I’m s-sorry—I don’t—I’m sorry,” he whispers breathlessly. Wyatt feels his tears beginning to dampen the points of contact between their skin. 

He lies a hand on August’s bare back, rubbing circles once the boy stops holding his breath like he’s expecting a blow. “Need I remind you how capable you are of facing this?” He can feel August’s heart hammering against his chest so he keeps his voice low. “I’ve witnessed you staring down a whole room, with your hands tied no less.” He holds August under one thigh and reaches behind his back to uncross the opposite foot. “I was impressed by the fight in you, the fire in your eyes.” 

August lets him straighten the leg and ease it into the water. He tightens his arms around Wyatt’s neck and stops breathing but doesn't struggle. Wyatt follows suit with the next so August is more or less standing in the tub. 

“I know you to be brave...” 

August yelps when his wounded hip meets the water, panting against Wyatt’s neck, arms still like iron to keep himself there. Wyatt doesn’t stop until he’s up to his chest in the water, following to kneel beside him on the canvas sheet Midge laid to protect the carpet. 

“As brave as any of those wolves downstairs. Maybe you’re not a lamb after all…” August huffs against his neck and Wyatt smiles. He dips a cloth into the soapy water and runs it across August’s back, eliciting a shiver.

Wyatt washes most of what he can reach with the younger boy still clinging to him before August lifts his head. He straightens slowly, as though a sudden movement might change everything. His face is flushed and his hands shake fiercely when he releases them from behind Wyatt’s neck. He doesn’t seem to know what to do with them, fears touching the very water he sits in.

“All right. All’s right.” Wyatt cups the side of his face as his breath starts to quicken. “Just look at me, August. There you go, that’s it.” He presses the cloth into one of August’s hands, closing his fingers around it for him. “Come now, you’ve done this before.” 

He bites his lips together as he submerges his hand while the other still hovers, trembling above the water. Wyatt catches his fingers and brings them to rest on the edge of the tub. August grips it immediately, knuckles turning white.

“You already smell like a rose,” Wyatt tells him, wiping a smudge off the side of his neck. 

August huffs again, flushing even redder than he already is in the warm bath. He doubles down on biting his lip in a way that makes Wyatt wonder if it might be to hide a smile. A prize for another time.   

“All that’s left is your hair.”  

His Adam’s apple dips as he swallows. 

“You can hold onto me and lean your head back.” When August only blinks at him, he adds, “unless you want to go under.”

He shakes his head, expression crumpling at the mere mention. “Please—”

“You’re all right.” Wyatt steels himself and takes both of his hands, bringing them back to his shoulders. “Just hold onto me.” As expected, August does so in a way that would make it nearly impossible for Wyatt not to submerge himself as well as August if that was what he intended. They’re nose to nose, again in contest with the intimacy August fears above all else. Excepting a bath, Wyatt is learning. 

He has to bend over the tub to manage the angle. August hangs on his neck, alternately searching his eyes as though he might see the threat before it happens, and avoiding them completely like he doesn’t want to. 

August gasps when the back of his head meets the water. 

“It’s all right, you’re doing well.”

His eyelids flutter as Wyatt rubs at his scalp under the water. When Wyatt lifts him out and adds more soap, working it into a silky lather, August lets his eyes fall shut completely. As Wyatt's fingers card slowly but surely through the tangles, the knot of the boy’s arms around his neck loosens as well. By the time Wyatt tips him back to rinse the suds, it seems some of his unease has washed away too.

Next...

@whumpy-writings @deluxewhump @no-whump-on-main @maracujatangerine @painsandconfusion

@wolfeyedwitch @briars7 @gala1981 @redwingedwhump @whumpflash

@poeticagony-blog @annablogsposts @fleur-alise @melancholy-in-the-morning @crystalquartzwhump

@magziemakeswhatever @neverthelass @cakeinthevoid @inkstainsonmyhands12 @morning-star-whump

@writereleaserepeat

[disappointed-time-traveller]

Sooo… do you know that story about Athena being arranged to marry Hephaestus?

This was partly inspired by @mer-acle's drawing of the same myth. I wanted to draw something for it to but wasn't sure what and then... inspiration stuck "Ah Ha! I'll redraw the reluctant bride by Auguste Toulmouche, but like, with Athena!" Which makes this probably the nerdiest drawing I've ever done. But I mean how could I not that death glare is iconic!

This is such a fascinating myth, it has such interesting implications for Athena's family relationships, and Athena as a person. Like not only was she married off despite her clearly wanting it, but nobody did anything about it, she had to get out of it herself. Like that hurts but the way she responds is so wonderfully in character for a much younger Athena.

In the original myth Hephaestus asked to marry Athena (by which I of course mean he asked Zeus what kind of hooligan would ask a woman if she wanted to marry him). But i kind of like the idea I've been playing with of Hephaestus not wanting it either, just because this story really highlights the fact that they have so much in common. They were both born in unusual ways, got abandoned at birth because of it, and when they got back to Olympus LIFE STILL FUCKING SUCKED. I also originally started exploring this myth as a way to have the Erichthonius myth because I love him, and keep Athena and Hephaestus's friendship.

bonus original sketch:

[bylrndgm]

one year of this blog: my favorite byler scenes [1/7]

season one, chapter eight | the upside down dir.: the duffer brothers.