#f: $W

[cursedbeasts]

Valkorion!

Commissions are open!

[edlucavalden]

Learning to eat with your hands.

[thewindowofthesummerhouse]

Richard Wells

[chloesimaginationthings]

What do yall think the FNAF Faztalker is for,,

(Original post @/Dawko on Twitter)

[weirdlookindog]

Dave McKean (b. 1963) - Nosferatu, 2010

source

[fortycds]

Three of Emily O’Leary’s hand-hooked dog rugs (@emiliaoleary); bottom two photos were shot by Bucky Miller for an installation in his Wraymour&Flanigan project (strongly recommend seeing the full installation photos!)

[communist-alfred]

I’ve had this tweet saved in my camera roll for months simply because I can hear him saying it and

[tojisun]

price calling himself daddy 24/7 just to keep you in a certain headspace. even does it when you’re in a mood and he’s sinking to his knees telling his pretty girl to fuck his mouth about it

oh jesus christ this does it for me

john seeing you be so bratty and mean — full of spite and festered resentment because this day had been so shitty — but he just. folds himself before you, sinking to his knees, all starry-eyed and wobbly lips underneath his scruff.

he rubs his thumb on the inside of your thigh, humming, “won’t you, baby?”

your breath hitches, of course it would, and john is still all quiet smiles and rumbling voice and overflowing patience.

“use daddy to get the edge off, yes? ‘cause daddy just wants to see ‘is baby happy, s’all,” he croons, his eyes darkened with his own desire.

and god, john’s got you all jittery and hyper focused on his touch, feeling like the rug’s been ripped from underneath you, leaving you to free-fall into this haze that john’s coaxing you in. he’s leading you to it with such gentle cadence that you slip underneath the fog easily — your trembling hands reach to tug at your shorts, then at your panties, before spreading your legs wider, allowing john to scoot closer until his breath’s tickling your dampening folds.

“come on, sweet’art,” john rumbles, so close to your cunt you’re sure you felt his voice pulse against your core. “hands on daddy’s head; no need t’be shy about it.”

a whimper trickles from your lips, a broken little thing, as you reach forward to fist at his hair, gripping with a trembling hesitance because john may be offering but it’s still so difficult for you to take the lead. to— to use him, as he said.

because john’s this… big man. not quite literally but he has this pull in him that makes you ache, like more than anything, you are just john’s girl. no expectations, no responsibilities; just john’s sweetheart, the one he spoils with such ease and happiness. the one that makes him fold — to his knees, like right now.

the first glide is uncertain, like testing the waters even though john had devoured your cunt time and time again. but still, this was a different voyage — you feel even more exposed like this, holding his own pleasure and his own control in your lither hands. john moans, though, loud and drawn out, like it’s your face on his crotch. and you stutter, battered with your own crashing desires, and john—

he gets it. he feels your twitching fingers and the tension in your muscles because he digs his face deeper, tongue dragging along your folds with gusto, and this, like this, the dam breaks. your veins sing with pleasure, your synapses buzzing as the onslaught of your ecstasy burns through, devouring everything in its wake.

you don’t even notice the way your grip on john’s head had tightened, so focused on using his face to fuck your cunt — sliding him up-down-in-in-more. “daddy, more!”

and john groans, an apex predator’s bellow, before wider hands grip the plush of your thighs so he could fuck his tongue deeper, pushing his face closer, not minding the fact that any more and he could pretty much be smothered by your cunt and your slick—

god, your slick. the most fucking delicious thing he’s ever gulped down. and you’re so wet, dripping down your thighs and into his tongue, filling up his jowls for him to gulp down. to devour.

his precious girl, so delicious. so beautiful. so desperate for daddy.

“gonna-! daddy, m’gonna-!”

john growls, pushing your thighs further apart. his scalp burns with tiny pricks as you tug at his hair but that’s little sacrifice for this prize that’s laying before him, all sweet and needy. cunt weeping for him. only for him.

your squirt makes a mess out of him, but john doesn’t care. he gulps it down, slurping all that slip past his maw because — “baby. m’baby,” john sighs into your pussy. “so good f’r me, sweet’art. so good.”

john chances a glance up your way but you’re not even with him anymore, your gaze faraway.

“aww, sweet thing,” he croons, finally climbing up to mount you. “come on, darlin’. come back to daddy.”

but all you could do is warble a reply, and john can’t help but coo because like this, you’re even sweeter than usual. so precious for him; so precious in your trembling ecstasy.

[classicfilmpunk]

NOSFERATU (1922) dir. F. W. Murnau

[vintrage]

“i can fix her” well i think the atrocities make her funny

[laceofheartss]

Stella Cadente rtw F/W 1999

[shlutmeow]

so this is the little girl they beat & abused for 7 years in prison? vi has never healed from this trauma, we all see jinx & her trauma throughout the show but never fully go in dept with vi’s trauma & everything she suffered during prison. and there’s still people who hate her character just from that in-the-moment lash out anger with powder in s1. & they don’t have a justifiable excuse.

[tartppola]

silver♀ dump + fairy gala sil/prefect sillies..........

[mx-monster]

Thinking horny thoughts about Minotaurs so here’s a lazy Drabble

Cw: m/f, breeding kink

Male!minotaur god of agricultural x Female!human offering

your villages crops are failing. If it continues there won’t be enough to store for winter. In the face of a grueling winter and the real possibility of starvation, the villagers turn to the god of agriculture. They choose you as the offering. They lathering you in sweet smelling oils and dress you in the finest scarlet dress the village possesses. Gold necklaces are clasped around your neck, silver bracelets slipped onto your wrists. A crown of wildflowers rested on your brow.

You’re paraded through the village while neighbors, family, and friends gather on the streets chanting prayers and singing hymns to catch the God’s attention.

You’re left standing alone in a barren field One of the many your village had tried and failed to cultivate. The light of the full moon bathing you in its silvery light.

It doesn’t take long before He’s towering over you. He was magnificent.

“Do you know what this ritual entails?”

What do you say to a God? How do you say it? So you don’t answer. At least, not with words. Without looking away from the God before you, you lower yourself to the ground. Dress pooled around your waist, you spread your thighs and bear your sex to His hungry eyes.

He spends hours between your legs. Alternating between opening you up on his thick fingers and dragging his large, hot tongue along the seam of your cunt. He pushes you to the edge of ecstasy, only to reel you back in.

Your thighs are slick with the proof of your need. You feel wetness steadily leak from your cunt onto your ass. He slides his hips in between your thighs, the blunt head of his cock teasing your slick entrance.

“You’re ready. Know that if we do this I will spill inside. My seed will take and you will become pregnant. Do you understand?”

You nod. God, you understood. You wanted it more than you wanted anything else.

“Say it.”

“I want it, please. I-I need it. I need it so bad,” you sobbed, frustrated tears streaming down your cheeks. He had spent so long teasing you, you’d absolutely die without release. You nearly screamed in relief when He began slowly fucking into you. He was so thick. Even with all the preparation you felt every inch of Him splitting you open.

“Such a greedy cunt you have,” He grunted, “taking me so well. Begging for my cock so prettily. I’ll give it to you. Give you anything. Everything.”

It doesn’t take long before you felt an orgasm rip it’s way through you. Your vision blacks out as a wrecked scream tore from your throat. You felt his cock pulse, spilling hot seed into your starved cunt.

When you finally came back to your body you noticed that the once barren field was now filled with healthy vegetation.

“Your village will one day be the capital of a mighty and prosperous kingdom. Our children’s children will sit at it’s head and one day pass their crown to the heads of their children. But that is a conversation for later,” he pulled you close, enveloping you in a strong embrace, “now, we rest.”

[classicfilmpunk]

Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror (1922)

[weirdlookindog]

Nosferatu, eine Symphonie des Grauens (1922)

Albin Grau poster art