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The Wish Pool (2019)

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Art by Loputyn

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i stole this from twitter

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Charles Rebel Stanton (1887-1954), 'Autumn Leaves, ''The Tatler'', Vol. 105, #1369, 1927 Source

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b4 i descend back into the comic making trenches i Had to draw it 💀

all that just to have to rake

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Since y’all liked my niche fic meme so much here’s another one

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Hiii! I just saw your centaur horny post and I definitely NEED to read reader giving shy centaur!boyfriend a handjob bc he can't do so 🤧🤧

You and your Centaur Boyfriend have been going really slow. The most you’ve done so far is kiss. Even that, though, you can tell excites him so bad that he can hardly stand it. His huge cock hardens quickly, eagerly leaking precum with each kiss or nip on the lips. When your tongue invades his mouth, he whines, grinding his cock on the ground slightly since he usually sits while you make out.

“You always get hard so fast,” you tease him one day, lightly tugging on his hair to break the kiss.

His face instantly reddens as he tries to break eye contact. When you don’t let him, he mumbles out, “well, I’ve never cum so it’s hard for me to not get excited.”

A grin cracks your face as you look down at him, tilting your head. “Really?”

“Don’t smile like that!” he protests sheepishly, looking down, his tail flitting.

You tug him up by his hair, only letting go once he’s fully standing. “I can help,” you offer as you walk beside him, dragging your nails along his flank.

He whines, hoofing at the ground with his front hoof. “R-really?”

“Of course. You should have told me before,” you say in a fake sympathetic voice as you trail one of your fingers up his leaking cock.

That draws another whimper out of him. His breathing always quickens. You curl your fingers around his shaft, but it barely covers half. You decide to crawl under him so you can wrap both hands around his throbbing shaft.

“Baby,” he moans, bucking against your hands already.

You shush him quietly, slowly working your hands up and down his shaft. He pants, rocking his hips back and forth as you slowly Jack him off. He quickly resorts to whining and begging for you to speed up. He’s a good boy for you, right? You should want to let him cum. He’ll do anything you want if you let him cum. He’s a mess, whining and bucking his hips like he’s a bitch in heat. Trying to just get any kind of friction.

“You’re doing so good for me,” you purr as you begin to speed up, using his precum to help keep your pace, smearing it all over his cock.

“Please, please,” he moans, hiccuping as he tries to keep from cumming despite how desperately he’s throbbing in your hands.

You giggle, running your tongue along the head of his cock. He groans, shivering and panting. Before he can get out another beg, you pull away from him, going faster than you had before, moving your hands up and down quickly.

“Okay baby. You can cum.”

He thanks you repeatedly, panting your face in his cum. His whole body shakes as he leans back on his back legs, his chest heaving and eyes half lidded.

“That’s my good boy. You did so good for me.”

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He first saw you picking flowers.

The Orc was on a walk through the town centre, heading towards the beach. It was too nice a day to be staying inside, baking in the heat and becoming one with his leather sofa. If he must melt into a large green puddle, he will do it at the beach.

As he strolled through the town centre, he admired the impeccably kept gardens of lush grass, bright red roses, purple and pink lilies. And amongst the colour, was you.

The Orc stopped in his tracks, watched you working, trimming away at dead flower heads and picking off wilting leaves. This was the first time he’d ever seen someone take care of the gardens.

The peaceful smile, combined with the delicate way you picked the flowers enraptured him with a kind of calm that he hadn’t felt in years.

You just looked so content, so natural to be surrounded by the bushes, as if you were a deer drinking water from a still lake.

Feeling eyes on you, you looked around to see the source of your discomfort. Locking eyes with the Orc, he flinched, “s-sorry.” He apologised, looking away from you. “I didn’t mean to stare.” He must have looked really creepy to be watching someone so intently.

You smiled at him. “It’s okay, it’s not a normal sight.” Tucking the flowers into the crook of your arm, you stood and made your way over to him. “I mean, it’s not often you see someone raiding a public garden for flowers, right?” You let out an awkward chuckle.

The Orc nodded in agreement, reflecting your awkwardness. “Yeah, I guess not.”

Silence sat between the two of you for a moment. “I’m technically not allowed to be picking them.” You said, after a moment. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything.”

Smiling, the Orc assured you, “I won’t tell a soul.”

From that point onward, he made it a point to go and see you at the gardens every day. It was such a rarity to see someone be so happy in their own company, doing their own thing.

He didn’t like to just watch you though, he always made conversation with you. The last thing the Orc wanted was to make you uncomfortable. It would look to other people, a lone Orc, sat on a bench while a pretty young lady tends to the flowers in the public garden.

Through your talks, he learned that you actually work for the local council and take care of the garden every day… while taking some of the flowers home for your own viewing. “I mean, I tend to them, I should at least be allowed to take some home, right?” You told him.

The Orc had nodded absent-mindedly in agreement. You were just so passionate about your job, the delight and excitement you had on your face when he asked you botanical questions made his stomach bubble.

You never acted annoyed by him, laughed at his jokes and even invited him to come and help you with your work. Whenever he had questions, you answered them without judgement and with such zeal.

After spending his days with you, he’d return home, the world seemed… dull. Without all the brightly coloured flowers around and your glowing prescence, he sometimes wondered if it had always been this way to him. He then realised it hadn’t, because you lit up the world.

The Orc pondered on how best to tell you about his feelings. There was a part of him that worried you were only nice to him to… be nice to him. But it wouldn’t hurt to tell you how he felt… would it? It’s not like you were ever nasty or cold to him, so there had to be a chance for him, right?

He thought how best to tell you: Box of chocolate? No, too stereotypical. Just asking you out to dinner? That’s way too basic, and then you might think he wants something else.

He didn’t need to worry about that for long however, one hot summer day, you asked him:

“Did you know that the Victorians used to have a language for flowers?”

“No, I did not.” The Orc answered. He was sat beside you this time, holding up a Rose bush so you could reach the thorns at the roots of the plant.

“They used to use it to tell other people things,” you said as you snipped off the sharp edges. “Like, if you wanted to tell someone you loved them, you’d bring them honeysuckle and roses.”

“Huh.” He said, thoughtfully. He was silent for a moment, thinking on what you’d said.

This was it. That’s how he’d tell you he liked you, through Honeysuckle and Roses.

Once back at home, he jumped on his laptop and researched. The next morning, he went to three different florists, and got what he needed.

While in his car, the Orc did his best to rearrange the flowers in an attractive manner. After adjusting them five or six times, he sighed. The Orc still had his reservations. Of course he was nervous, he hadn’t told anyone he liked them since… Wait, had he ever even liked anyone this much?

He shook his head. “Just have to tell her,” he muttered to himself as he stepped out of the car. As he made his way through the garden, picking and making final changes to the bouquet in his hands, he looked up and stopped dead in his tracks.

You stood at the edge of the garden, talking to a human man. You held a strong scowl at the man, who jabbed and pointed a finger at you, similarly angry with you.

The Orc hung back, watching the altercation unfold.

Finally, the man sighed, and raised his hand to your cheek, like he was going to cup it. But before he could, you raised a hand and slapped him hard across the face.

The man let out a shout, grabbed at your wrist and yanked. You jerked forward.

Within seconds, the Orc was by your side and caught you around the waist with a free arm. He glowered down at the pathetic man, “what’s going on here?” He growled.

The man let go of your arm. “It’s none of your business, I was just having a conversation with the woman here.” The man glared at your Orc. “This hasn’t got anything to do with you.”

“It is, actually.” The Orc hissed.

“How so? You’re just some random-”

“I’m her boyfriend, actually.”

The moment the words escaped him, the Orc wanted to clamp a hand over his mouth, to take back the words and hide them away.

His realisation of horror thankfully, hadn’t shown on his face.

The human man flinched. “Oh…” He said. His tone low, “sorry, I didn’t know…” And with that, he turned away and stalked off.

Huffing, the Orc turned to you. “Are you alright?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed. “He didn’t hurt you did he?”

You shook your head, “no, I’m fine… He was just some creep who wanted my socials. That’s all.”

Your Orc friend let out a sigh, “I… I’m sorry I said that. The boyfriend thing…” The bouquet of flowers were still clutched in his hands, petals wilted slightly from the unpleasantness.

He probably really lost any chance now, just announcing that? To a park full of people? He wouldn’t be surprised if you just stopped talking to him entirely.

“It’s okay… I liked the title, actually.” Your words came out small, mumbled. But to the Orc, they were like the clang of a church bell. His stomach somersaulted, his heart thumped hard in his chest, eyes widened.

“I was hoping that you would ask me out at some point… otherwise I would have asked you myself today.” You gave a cheery, but abashed smile.

Clearing his throat, face burning, the Orc held the flowers out to you, “I still can.” He smiled, hands shaking, “would you like to go out with me?”

You bit your lip, taking the flowers from him. “I’d like that.”

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Beatrice Goldsmith (1895-1947), 'Pan's Garden', ''The Tatler'', Vol. 103 #1343, 1927 Source

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by Arvildon

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Who could even take joy in posting that? It's not even something that you created. How is it any different than just plagiarizing literally anyone's work and saying, "Here I made this." When no the fuck you didn't.

There are currently ~2300 works in AO3 tagged with "Created Using Generative AI"

I'll be upfront with my opinion, which mirrors my opinion in regards to my field: using AI will only hasten your own obsolescence. The point of fanfiction is not to crank out fics, but rather to enjoy the hobby and communities of writing and fandom.

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Im glad the monsterfuckers are now finding Kafka Hibino thanks to the Kaiju No 8 anime ❤️ My failguy babygirl ough...