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Sun Zheping's and Zhang Jiale's avatars have the best wallpapers imo

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He’s a little bit angry but still just a lil’ kitty

Little sketch of the Warlord predator, because i liked him a lot 🤲🏽

(also I screwed with his armor design cuz I couldn’t find normal references, sorry-)

He looked so majestic in the movie, MY GOD, looking at him RESPECTFULLY (please someone write the fic with him and reader I’M BEGGING—)

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“Cover your tits slut”

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Would you do Predator (Yautja) x F!reader Nfsw 🤔

🔞 Yautja (Predator) x F!Reader NSFW Headcanons 🔞

⚠️ warning: Alien x Human intimacy (monsterf*cking), Size difference kink, Breeding kink & cum play, Rough sex/primal dynamics, Obsessive behaviors, stalking (soft yandere elements)

▾DNI divider by @cafekitsune​

🦴 He watches. Long before he ever touches you, he hunts you with his eyes. The Yautja are voyeurs by instinct— you’re studied through cloaking tech, from treetops or rooftops, tracked as if you were dangerous prey. He memorizes your scent, movements, and even the sounds you make when you’re alone. It’s obsessive.

🦴 Touch is rare among his kind— but for you? He indulges. Thick, clawed hands dwarf your body. The first time he touches your bare skin, it’s like he’s reverent. He traces over your spine like it’s some sacred map, rumbling low in his chest as your skin shivers.

🦴 Yautja are massive— upwards of 7+ feet tall, heavily muscled, and intimidating in both presence and size. You feel like prey beneath him. in the best way.

🦴 Their cock is slightly alien, knot-like at the base with a ridged shaft meant to stimulate. It secretes a slick, cooling fluid with a faint metallic tang— helps stretch you and numb your pain. They’re not built to be gentle, but your Predator wants you to survive his love.

🦴 He purrs and clicks when aroused. His inner mandibles twitch, opening and fluttering as his chest rumbles— it’s like a sound bath, meant to soothe and dominate all at once. You feel it between your legs before you realize he’s even touched you.

🦴 He takes his time— at first. His culture views sex not just as pleasure but as conquest and bonding. Expect slow, grinding thrusts that eventually ramp into full, brutal fucking. The pace he sets feels overwhelming, like you’re being asserted.

🦴 You’re often pinned. Held down by one massive hand on your back or both of your wrists in one palm. His weight is terrifying but delicious— pressing you down into pelts or the jungle floor while he ravages you.

🦴 He growls into your neck, mandibles brushing against your skin, sometimes biting just hard enough to bruise. His orgasm is violent, body shuddering, teeth grit, and he doesn’t pull out. it’s not in his instinct to share his seed.

🦴 Breeding kink to the extreme. Even if you’re human and incompatible, he doesn’t care. He wants to fill you until you’re dripping with him, over and over, like some sacred fertility rite.

🦴 Scent play- he gets addicted to the smell of your arousal. Will stuff your underwear in his gear, wear your scent proudly like a badge of honor.

🦴 He loves resistance. Not because he wants to hurt you— but because that push-and-pull triggers his hunting instincts. If you bite, scratch, or try to escape mid-act, it drives him feral. He’ll growl, chase, pin, and fuck you harder to remind you who the apex is.

🦴 Your moans make him go quiet. The louder you are, the more stunned he gets. You are soft, human, fragile— and the sounds you make when he touches you? Sacred. He’s still learning how you work, what breaks you, what makes you beg.

🦴 Pheromones go wild during sex. You’ll feel it in the air: heavy, sweet, oppressive. It gets into your lungs, your skin, your brain— clouding your thoughts until all you can do is take what he gives you and whimper his name.

🦴 If it’s a mating ritual, expect multiple rounds. He’ll knot, stay buried inside you for hours, purring and grinding lazily while you twitch and squirm under him.

🦴 He hides you. Keeps you deep in his territory or spaceship where no one else can see you. You are his mate— not a showpiece.

🦴 takes you in dangerous places: his trophy room, the jungle, mid-hunt. The thrill of someone sensing it fuels him.

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SOMEONE MAKE A GRENDEL X READER ASAP

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The Grendel King

The Warlord

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a little Cinderella c Sukuna piece I did! I did some TT’s of this ship. I was planning on making a mini YouTube video but I quickly realized that CapCut kinda sucks for animation + editing + video effects 😔 maybe one day I’ll tough it out and post what I have 🤔

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Absolutely love this 💕 the commissioner's ideas are always so wholesome 💖

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This ship is officially named Sukurella, argue with the wall <3

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Their love is real

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Commission: Sukuna X Cinderella, Full body, colored and shaded 💎 Commissioned by @thebigblackdevil5

This was such a fun crack pairing <3 thank you for the lovely commission !

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I just realized I can send u stuff here hai

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Oscar and Rosalie because the movie LACKED IT 😭😭😭😭

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I did a redraw of an RoV fanart I made when I was 14! I felt obligated to remake this one specifically because I think Rosalie deserved to have a role in the new movie :D

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1917 Le Chat et La Lune Vintage French Postcard

Edy Legrand

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Vivre avec les hommes: Réflexions sur le procès Pelicot (Manon Garcia, 2025)

"On est dans la cuisine, je lui prépare le dîner. Il me dit : « Sur Mazan ? Mais qu’est-ce que tu veux dire ? C’est juste un fait divers, il n’y a rien à en dire. »

Je couche mes enfants, je reviens dans le salon plus d’une heure plus tard, il joue de la guitare sur le canapé. Le repas est encore sur la table, les jouets éparpillés par terre.

Je ramasse, je range. Remplir le lave-vaisselle, le mettre en route, essuyer la table, préparer les tasses pour demain matin. Il joue de la guitare.

La nuit est longue, les enfants toussent. Réveil. Café. Grille-pain. On se dépêche. On se lave les dents.

Il me dit : « Tu peux me faire du thé ? » « Oui papa, pas de problème papa. » J’emmène les enfants à la crèche.

Mon père est un homme de sa génération. (…)

Je l’emmène déjeuner pas loin, on parle de son déménagement prochain pour le Brésil. « Tu as une copine là-bas ? »

Il me répond : « Non, je ne vois que des prostituées quand je suis là-bas. C’est pas faute d’essayer. Mais c’est marrant tu vois, il y en a une avec qui j’échange sur WhatsApp, à chaque fois je vois sa photo, c’est la liste des prix de ses prestations. »

Il a beau avoir quatre filles, féministes (croyez-le ou non, je suis loin d’être la plus radicale des quatre), il me dit ça, calmement, entre le döner et le baklava.

Juste un fait divers ?

Je ne peux pas m’empêcher de penser que du vieux musicien français qui part vivre « au pays de la bossa-nova » et attend que ses besoins sexuels soient satisfaits par des femmes locales contre rémunération – je me prends à me réjouir qu’au moins elles soient payées – à ces hommes qui se connectent sur coco.fr et qui n’appellent pas la police quand Pelicot leur propose de violer sa femme inanimée, il y a un continuum de l’homme ordinaire bien plus effrayant que le pire des faits divers.

Mon père n’est pas Dominique Pelicot et je ne pense pas qu’il aurait pu se retrouver à Mazan.

Mais je ne peux pas m’empêcher de voir la continuité triste de cette sexualité masculine qui se sent autorisée à disposer du corps des femmes pour leur plaisir."