#yasss.

[luvlyycy]

braiding yasuo's hair actually

[sentimental-apathy]

[palmtreepwr]

like

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Smol snippet of Jon Hamm reading the Good Omens excerpt at the The Art of Elysium’s 2024 Heaven Gala, 6.1.2024 :) ❤ (I hope we will get it all one day! :) <3)

Jon: From a little story called Good Omens, The Nice and Accurate prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch, by Terry Pratchett and our own Neil Gaiman.

The angel waved a hand expansively, if a little unsteadily. "Loads of buggerall, dear boy."

"But it gets there anyway," Crowley persevered.

"How?"

"It doesn't matter!"

"It could use a space ship," said the angel.

Crowley subsided a bit. "Yeah," he said. "If you like. Anyway, this bird—"

"Only it is the end of the universe we're talking about," said Aziraphale. "So it'd have to be one of those space ships where your descendants are the ones who get out at the other end. You have to tell your descendants, you say, When you get to the Mountain, you've got to—" He hesitated.

[linktoo-doodles]

turtle helmet👑🐢

[hellsrings-radio-synz-777]

The scream I scrumpt.

Man bent down looked the King of Hell in the eye and said Fuck you.

[nats-revival]

nsfw ! — thinking about ellie using a strap for the first time. shes just so star struck by it, yet so confused. “it looks so confusing. like, how to people even do this?” she’s looking at herself in the mirror while trying, or failing miserably, at putting the harness on. she was excited to use it on you to make you feel good but she also wanted to know how people figured these things out so fast.

when she’s finally put it on properly with your help, she lays you down. shes taking her time with kissing you all over, marking you up and prepping you with her fingers. her fingers felt heavenly inside of you, and you’re begging her to let you cum but she removed her fingers before you did.

naturally, you pout at her angrily. “relax. the best part has yet to come.” she pats your thigh before littering kisses all over your face. and gosh, does she go the extra mile with making sure you’re okay. “you just need to tell me if you really want this.. cause i dont wanna make you like, uncomfortable.” “im sure ellie, im super sure.” she’s asked you the same question about five times now, but in her defense, she didnt wanna hurt you. after more reassurance, she slides it in slowly as if she were testing the waters.

if her fingers felt heavenly, then the feeling of her cock inside of you was otherworldly. she lets you adjust to the size before moving slowly. you encourage her and she begins moving faster, finding her rhythm. “fuck— you look so pretty right now,” she mumbled, soaking up the sight of her strap going in and out of you. “you’re doing so good for me.” her praises added another layer to the experience that has you whining and moaning so pretty for her. once shes comfortable with the consistency of her thrusts, her pace was even faster. it wasn’t long before she had you cumming all over her strap.

she made a mental note that seeing you with her strap nestled inside you makes her feral. ellie knew she’d be doing this again.

astrids notes: gentle ellie 4 life!!!! im a wee rusty cause i dont write so much anymore so pls dont flame me. 😓😓😓 i kinda hate this but this has been in my brain for days i literally needed to get it out before i forgot.

[unadulteratedloathings]

"Make sure you're where less trouble is rife

Woes are fleeting

Blows are glancing

When you're dancing

Through life"

effect inspo

[karvviie]

spreading my he/she/they locus agenda

[kor0kke]

Do you wanna hang with me? Call me! ☎️🌈💖

On a mini Nene era, I've seen tons of Nay-Nay Fanarts so I wanted to join too!! <3

Inspired by anime magazine covers :]

[bottomlessp1t]

💅🏻

[blobee]

Doodless

[geek-22]

[etternn]

little boy🤏

[lvrrgirlll]

Medieval princess!reader x knight!Patrick Zweig… walk with me…

You knew better than to be walking about the castle at such a late hour, but you couldn’t sleep. You strolled through the cold, stone corridors till you saw the warmth of candlelight shine from a nearby doorway. Stepping softly, so as not to make your presence known, you crept towards the doorway, curious as to whom could be up so late as well.

To your surprise, Sir Patrick, your father (the King)’s best and favorite knight was illuminated by the soft light as he sat, shirtless, tending to a wound on his chest. You were careful not to be too conspicuous as you observed him. From his shoulder to his chest, he was black and blue, and you could see the crimson of blood ever so slightly seeping from a gash in his chest. Whatever —or whomever— he encountered must have been quite formidable. You gasped ever so slightly at the notice of blood, forgetting yourself and alerting him of your presence.

“Who goes there,” he asked, tone hard even in his weakened state. As you came out from the shadows, his face softened. “Oh. M’lady,” he bowed his head, wincing slightly as he moved his shoulder.

“Do not injure yourself further on my account, sir.” Your cheeks feel hot as bashfulness creeps up on you, bitterly aware of the impropriety you two find yourself in. It is impossible not to gaze at his form, though. Even in injury, he is a marvel. This is the first time you have seen any man shirtless, and Patrick does not disappoint.

He notices your lingering eyes, smirking at the thought that he was charming you. “Might I ask for your assistance,” he asks, looking between you and the cloth bandage lying on the table. The thought of being so close to him in his state of undress brings a certain heat between your thighs, as well, but you attempt to ignore it.

“Oh, of course. Allow me.” You approach him timidly, as if your mere proximity were a dangerous siren call, beckoning you to sin. Your cold hands reach for the cloth as you take a seat next to him at the small bench in the alcove. You wrap it around him carefully. Occasionally, your fingers brush against his warm skin, the contrast against your icy fingertips feeling all the more enticing yet wrong. When you finish tying the bandage around him, you stand, mind swirling and ready to return to bed. Before you leave, though, he thanks you.

“Thank you, your majesty. Your own beauty is reflected in your attention to your bandage work.” That compliment alone has you flustered. But as you prepare to bid him goodnight, Patrick takes your hand in his, placing a warm, gentle kiss to it. “Goodnight, m’lady.” When he looks up at you, his smile is sweet and genuine, but his eyes shine with a dangerous mischief you think you may like a bit too much.

“Goodnight, sir.” That night, you dream of Sir Patrick, in all of his shirtless glory, in your bed, white linens entangled between the two of your bodies. This was going to become a problem…