#golden velvet ant

[tinylongwing]

2023 was a busy year for me! Thankfully I have some art I can show you all - there's always stuff every year that I can't show until the next year, haha. Enjoy this eclectic mix of birds, fanart, and a velvet ant - that's about usual for me, I'd say!

[0bticeo]

lurk | feyd rautha

part four of five. (part 1.) (part 2.) (part 3.)

summary:

“i need you,” he rasps, etching a molten kiss on the dip of your collarbone. “need to get rid of his taste.”

his hand crawls up your thighs, the folds of your velvet dress gliding against your skin. you can still hear the soldiers outside, feel the low thrum of their clamour in your very bones. should you focus, you’ll perceive the baron’s suspensors sucking away at gravity, the servants’ roaming about, feet like neelde-ants on cold marble.

anyone could catch you.

“what are you waiting for, my lord na-baron?”

wc: 1.6k

tw: political machinations, reader being inches away from killing everyone in the damn place including feyd, kissing, biting, mentions of breeding, possessive & needy feyd, sub!feyd, oral (fem receiving), fingering, hallway sex.

you’re getting tired of dreams. 

there’s terrible, terrible purpose dripping from their edges. you see it all - snapshots of horror, fractals reflecting endless bodies dropping to the ground. sixty one billion people, dead. ten thousand worlds burning, the universe begging for respite under your brother’s crushing fist.

paul. little mouse, whom you’ve shielded all your life, whom you’ve sparred with, crysknife pressed against his throat, his shield a feeble protection against your blade. something shatters. blades. so many of them. your blade. jamis’ blade. feyd-rautha’s blade. 

your dream has you standing in what you know to be the emperor’s ship, shrouded in bene gesserit veils. two silhouettes stand against the bleeding sun of arrakis. 

the realisation embeds itself in your mind, marble-carved. fate is looking down upon you and tells you: one of them dies in the end.

when you wake up, there’s a scream dying on your tongue.

you don’t know where you are. you don’t know where you are, why your side is on fire, why you taste blood in your mouth.

slowly, you rise, heart beating furiously, breath laboured. i must not fear. your fingers dig your sheets. the infirmary. fear is the mind killer. you close your eyes, will yourself to breathe. fear is the little-death that brings total -

a hand settles over yours, bone pale fingers weaving with yours. warmth settles on your shoulder. you relax, ever so slightly, leaning into the touch, burying yourself in the crook of feyd-rautha’s neck. he’s all sharp edges, honed to deadly perfection. in the quiet midnight of geidi prime, he softens for you.

“what troubles you?”

you wonder if you should tell him. of the golden path, paved with blood, so much blood it clings to the soles of your feet, you see it rise, rise, eager to seize you-

a low mumble of your name.

“dreams are messages from the deep,” you whisper in the crook of his neck. 

his hold tightens over you, brings you closer to the warmth of him, thumb running over the smooth skin of your belly, over your unborn child growing there. from your position, you can feel it, the way his vocal cords vibrate. he’s purring, soothing you bit by bit.

you tilt your head, hand coming to cradle his face, knuckles brushing against his cheek.

“i should be plotting your death.”

a low chuckle, a flash of almost eagerness in his eyes.

“i don’t doubt you will.”

his hand wraps around your neck, resting on the soft skin of your throat, bringing you closer to him, shifting your bodies until you’re straddling him, arms wrapping around his neck. you could strangle him. you could use the voice. ask him to take the knife you know rests on the bedside and slit his own throat like the harkonnen beast he is. use it yourself.

but you’ve sealed your fate the moment you stepped on arrakis. so instead, you let the darkness swallow your confession.

“i don’t want you to die.”

“i won't,” he mumbles against your lips, words like an oath as he kisses you.

they say the beat of a butterfly wing can cause a tempest on the other side of the globe. you wonder what tempest will be borne out of the fury beating in your chest. here goes: morning comes. the spice rules it all, even the baron’s affairs, so he gathers his troops to make a planetary governor out of feyd-rautha. 

the glorious sun of geidi prime shines its lifeless light upon you all. 

the finest harkonnen soldiers, ruthless hounds barking their sovereign’s name in fervent adoration, thousands upon thousands of ants stretching as far as you can see. they corrupt it all the harkonnen, eating away at the horizon. waiting. 

you’re waiting, too, hands folded before you, lone silhouette clad in dark robes, veils like a mask before your face. bene gesserit, the court calls you. 

not quite.

by bearing feyd-rautha a child, you’ve gained a modicum of respite. the bene gesserit will spare you, the mother of their precious kwisatz haderach. they will keep your survival a secret and bury it behind inscrutable eyes.

plans within plans within plans. you’re a pawn in the baron’s meaty hands, he’s a pawn in yours, and the bene gesserit have been pulling the strings for ninety generations. 

your gaze flits to the scene before you. feyd-rautha harkonnen, clad in dark leathers, silver embroidery like pauldrons over his shoulders. the mass of his uncle hovers above him, a hovering beast eager for power. two meaty hands encompass his face - absolute disgust coils in your chest as you watch vladimir harkonnen kiss his nephew. he kisses back. a show of dominance.

the soldiers howl his name, earth trembling under the clamour. they salute, arms crossed over their heads, a living, breathing organism, synchronicity at its peak. 

arrakis has a new ruler. 

a hand clasps over your wrist, drags you away from the adoring masses, in the sweet darkness of the palace’s hallways. you’re pinned against the wall, and feyd-rautha looms before you, terrible hunger burning in his eyes. slowly, he lifts your veils, high enough to bare your mouth to him. 

“my lord-”

you’re cut off by his lips on yours, eager, desperate, savouring you like fine arrakean spice-wine. 

“i need you,” he rasps, etching a molten kiss on the dip of your collarbone. “need to get rid of his taste.”

his hand crawls up your thighs, the folds of your velvet dress gliding against your skin. you can still hear the soldiers outside, feel the low thrum of their clamour in your very bones. should you focus, you’ll perceive the baron’s suspensors sucking away at gravity, the servants’ roaming about, feet like neelde-ants on cold marble.

anyone could catch you.

“what are you waiting for, my lord na-baron?”

he nips at your ear, grin sharper than his blade as he sinks to his knees. slowly, intimately, a shadow curling at his mistress’ feet. he unravels you, nails raking up your thighs, liquid desire burning in their path. 

“eyes on me.”

your eyes snap open. oh, he’ll be the death of you, with the way his eyes freeze you in place, willing, begging for his touch. you shiver, a low, needy sound escaping you. 

he grins, a flash of black teeth against the liquid darkness of your robes. shadows will swallow you whole - he will swallow you whole. already is, with the way he trails kisses up your thighs, teeth sinking in the meat of it until blood drips on your skin. 

he’s lapping at it, hands wrapping around your leg, spreading you apart inch by precious inch until he fits the broad expanse of his shoulders in the space he’s carved for himself. he raises his head, leans his cheek against your thigh, nuzzling in its softness. there’s blood coating his lips, sweet like forbidden fruit, and an unquenchable fire in his eyes.

“exquisite,” he purrs, nail digging in the blossoming mark he’s left, until your hips seek his touch.

he puts his mouth to you. you bite your lip, hard, as you feel him tease you, tongue lapping at you like sweet pomegranate, skilled fingers coaxing pleas for more. the cold of his silver ring has you keening - you're melting against him.

it’s obscene, how the only sounds you can hear are the pleased moans of your lover, the squelching of your juices dripping down his face, his wrist. it’s too much, too fast - your nails dig into his nape, bringing him closer. fucker’s purring, hands digging in your hips. he’s making a feast out of you, and you’ve never seen prettier sight. 

feyd-rautha, kneeling at your feet, a pretty, pretty blush dusting his cheeks, his soft mouth on your cunt, ruining you as he denies himself sweet release.

“feyd-”

a jolt - he’s just nipped your clit, and you’re falling apart with his name on your tongue, burning, melting in the pits of desire. you grow boneless, faltering on unsteady legs. he pulls you to him before you can fall, kissing you, moulding his devouring mouth to yours. 

distantly, you register that he’s breathless, that he’s pressing you against him, that you can feel the dampness at the front of his pants.

his voice is a low, needy rasp.

“you taste divine, my dear.”

there’s a commotion. someone, somewhere, is calling. a servant. a feast is prepared. blasphemy - the baron is a beast, and he will not have his nephew leave without obscene amounts of food. good. it leaves room for you to plan - you’re running out of precious, precious time. there are too many variables for you to act alone, yet you are.

you’re sitting at feyd-rautha’s side at a banquet table. on you watch, a mockery of a bene gesserit, nails digging in your palm. there’s a knife before you, of course. the baron’s sitting at the head of the table, stuffing himself until he’s about to burst. 

repulsive.

you could do it now. put an end to the harkonnen, avenge your family. plunge that knife in the baron’s throat and watch him die like an animal. 

but revenge is best served cold. you remember princess irulan being seated in front of you. you remember the emperor at the head of the table. you remember his knife slicing through unknown poultry. a falcon. he’s doomed your family to death. 

the emperor is old. paranoid. anybody would’ve seen that the atreides were far too loyal to even consider rebelling against him, rising influence or not. someone convinced him otherwise. the truthsayer, reverend mother gaius helen moriam. 

you take a bite of your own meal and find it tasting like ash. the only dish you yearn for is revenge.

you want the baron dead. you want the emperor stripped of his power. you want to watch the split second of horrified realisation on the reverend mother's face. 

you want them to burn, and burn they will.

taglist: @kpopnstarwars @moonsoulk @alexandrainlove @saturnhas82moons @coureurs-de-bois9 @kamcrazy123 @beebeechaos @avidreader73 @yzuposts @jaiuneamesolitaiire

[bogleech]

Could I mayhaps know what's the name of that arachnid field guide you have 0//0 it looks really pretty and I have. A thirst for all arachnid related field guides and biology books, love those critters

The Golden Guide to Spiders and their Kin! There were lots of them, originally made in the 60's or 70's I believe, and they used to still be so common when I was a kid - still in print, and sold for just a couple dollars everywhere - I thought everybody had a few! But now they seem to be forgotten.

I had the spiders one, insects one and "seashores" one (mantis shrimps and nudibranchs!!) before I could even read, just looking at the pictures all day. As I learned to read they were how I learned concepts of taxonomy and ecology, why I knew what a "parasitoid" was in first grade and I'd talk constantly about insects that aren't really RARE, but culturally most people never heard about. These books made things like velvet ants, bolas spiders and hairy millipedes seem to me like knowledge as ordinary as dogs and cats.

That "pests of animals" page in particular is why I knew there were wingless parasitic flies, and I thought that was so cool, I was obsessed with "SHEEP KED" for my entire childhood. This bug that nobody ever heard of when I mentioned it, but was at one time deemed worthy of inclusion in an everyday field guide. And they include "duck louse" as an animal pest you're expected to encounter. Sheep and duck parasites?!.....Oh, right! When these books first published, it was still commonplace for almost everyone to have experience with farm animals. Most people at least had grandparents or aunts and uncles with a farm they might visit and help out on. Of course they would encounter sheep and duck parasites. I think they still publish these, actually, I'm sure I still saw them in Barnes and Noble only a few years ago, but it's remarkable what a different America they were made under. My old copy even recommended DDT to control bed bugs....they did eventually edit that out in newer editions.

Some of their attitudes may be outdated here and there, and they're only intended for North American wildlife, but I think the golden guides might still be perfect introductions to their topics for anyone, anywhere of any age really?? They're such well-balanced overviews so densely packed with just the most essential information about each organism.

....Did people really ever just call tree frogs "hylas?!" It's one of their genus names, but was it also used as a common name anywhere? That's a cute idea. Maybe it was, briefly, so at some point to someone there was a concept of Frog, Toad, and Hyla?

[ki-yomii]

phases of a daydream | myg

➥ pairing | min yoongi x f!reader

➥ word count | 2.8k

➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, oral (f receiving), squirting, soft dom!yoongi, pet names, mild degradation kink, mild praise kink, begging, teasing, implied established relationship, brief threesome fantasy feat JK

➥ summary | you get up early to surprise yoongi with breakfast in bed, only he ends up surprising you instead.

➥ notes | this man has made my oral fixation 10x worse. for all the sleepy girlies out there 🫡

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

The early Sunday morning sun hovers low on the horizon, its golden light peeking through gaps between downtown Seoul’s high risers.

The cacophony of city life sounds muted, far away, foggy with sleep. Slow to rise as vibrant brushstrokes of color chase away the velvet nighttime sky.

Some of the only ones awake are food stand owners with tteokbokki and eomuk in hand, Hongdae club go-ers, and you, apparently. It’s peaceful - certainly different from your usual routine.

But it’s also an experience you don’t see yourself repeating soon.

As nice as watching the sunrise is, you’d rather be dead than awake at this hour, especially on a weekend. You’ll never understand how some people like getting up while the world’s still cold and dark.

It’s criminal.

Couldn’t be me, you think while swirling oil around the pan, and ignoring the fact you did that just this morning.

It’s a minor miracle when you’re fully awake before 11 AM, and that’s after you guzzle down so much caffeine you vibrate in place.

Woe to whoever expects more than dispassionate glares and unintelligible grunts as you migrate from the bed to the couch.

What can you say, you’re not a morning girlie: you hate the half-drunk awareness, the sour taste clinging to the back of your tongue, the sticky sweat, and how overwhelmingly bright everything is.

Instead, you’d much rather nestle into bed, groggy and warm.

So Min Yoongi better count his blessings because he’s the only reason you’re in the kitchen at 7 AM, wearing nothing but a shirt that barely covers your ass while trying - and failing - to flip nurungji.

Quiet Spotify tunes and Min Holly’s rumbling snores are the only background noise amid your bitten off curses.

Before you met him, you used to make fun of girls so far gone for a guy they lost touch with reality. And now, you’re one of them, fighting for your life in the trenches.

He’s got you so whipped, it should be illegal.

Furthermore, it’s downright unfair how endearing you find it. It should infuriate you. Instead, you’re kitten soft.

And Yoongi knows how to use it to his advantage - knows it’s that stupid smirk paired with a face that makes smart girls dumb.

It never fails to win you over; the pretty eyes, the plush lips, the sharp jawline - you’re an absolute goner. If only smug didn’t look so good on him…

Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it?

The only thing that somewhat mollifies your bruised pride is the fact that should everything go to plan, your less than innocent intentions will come to fruition.

After all, your stolen shirt leaves so little to the imagination, you needn’t have bothered. And when Yoongi sees you practically naked, with breakfast in bed?

Fire meets gasoline.

While he might never say it outright, there’s no denying the way Yoongi’s eyes go soft and hungry whenever he catches you prancing around in his shirt.

He swears he’s going to throw it out, threadbare and worn, yet there it sits. Waiting in the back of his closet for the next time you stay over.

But that’s how it’s always been; a game of cat and mouse. You tease, he reacts - a constant push and pull, flirting with the boundaries of his restraint.

Though admittedly, you’ve never been this brazen before; ass out and nipples hard.

Although it’s not like he lives with the rest of the members anymore, so why not up the ante?

Even if imagining someone walking in on you (no matter how improbable) gets your blood pumping, and your pussy aching.

No one has to know about the dirty little fantasy you indulge in more often than you care to admit.

No one has to know how wet you get at the thought of getting caught bent over, stuffed full of Yoongi’s cock and unable to do anything but moan as he makes you take it.

Certainly, he’d play along.

The smooth thrust of his hips wouldn’t falter, wouldn’t stop. He’d fuck sweet whines out of you, make you cum so hard you gush.

Would keep you pinned in place with his hands, and tease you about how much you liked getting wrecked in front of his friend like a perfect little bitch.

Especially if it was Jungkook.

Yoongi thinks it’s cute how frazzled you get around the maknae; a silly, schoolgirl crush. In fact, he’d probably use it to his advantage. After all, he loves to taunt, tease.

Oh, he definitely would, you think, biting your lip as your stomach clenches and your thighs twitch.

His fingers would dig into your jaw, force you to look if you tried to hide; make you stare deep into those wide Bambi eyes with his chin hooked over your shoulder and his voice rough in your ear.

Grinding his cock head over your g-spot with every flex of his hips as your pussy tries to milk him dry, “You just gonna stand there, huh? C’mere, let’s have some fun. She doesn’t mind.”

...

"Ow, shit," you hiss, jerking back from the stove as angry heat blooms through your fingertips, "fuck, that hurts!"

Dropping the spatula, you scramble to the sink and run cold water over your hand while glaring at the sizzling pan. It might have been your fault for getting distracted, but rude.

Even if the pain helps calm down some of your raging hormones.

Okay, down girl, you think, chill out.

So despite your fingers feeling tight and swollen like a bad sunburn, and as hot a fantasy as that is, you take your sign from the universe and recollect yourself.

For now, you need to focus on the task at hand which comes at the expense of no more daydreaming.

Resolutely ignoring the sticky cling of your inner thighs, you slip the spatula under the rice patty and quickly flip it over.

It sizzles as it drops back into the pan, little splashes of oil kicking up.

Thankfully, the bottom isn’t too badly scorched. A little darker than you’d like but beggars can’t be choosers when they burn themselves because they’re too distracted by the thought of dick.

Giving the other side a few minutes to crisp up, you frown down at the forming blister. You poke it with a wince.

It’s not too big, and the sting isn’t terrible. You were able to sap the heat from the wound quick enough.

Honestly, what hurts worse is your pride - a total rookie move.

When its ready, you dump it onto a plate without ceremony before turning to grab the sugar. Only to gasp as you run into a solid chest instead of open air.

Forearms snake around your waist as Yoongi tugs you into the curve of his body. Pressed together from chest to hip, he feels the hitch of your breath when his thigh wedges itself between yours.

“Oh, y-you’re up!”

Fingertips flirt with the hem of your (his) shirt, inching higher to caress the slope of your rib cage. Goosebumps break out across your skin, your nipples pulling taut as a shiver judders down your spine.

Low-slung sweats cling to Yoongi’s trim hips, his erection tenting the cotton.

“Mm, morning,” he says, the greeting slurred out in a voice raspy with sleep. “Smells good.”

You swallow. “Good morning, baby.” You lean forward, and kiss the tip of his nose. “How’d you sleep?” Your hand scrapes over the nape of his neck, playing with the soft baby hairs.

It wasn’t until sometime after 3 AM that he’d wiggled into bed, most of the night spent in front of his MIDI, fiddling with chords and arrangements.

He rests his chin on the top of your head with a sigh, his breath ruffling the hair of your crown, “Hnng, slept alright.”

Arms tighten around you in a light squeeze while cheeky fingers inch up your torso to trace along the underside of your breast.

“Had the best dream though.”

Your breath catches in your chest, your heart stuttering against your ribs when he grinds forward, languid and loose. Your gut clenches hotly in interest as his cock rests heavy against your hip.

A temptation, a promise of what’s to come. Your palms sneak around his sides, resting on sleep-warm skin.

When you speak, its more of a breathless whisper than actual words, “Yeah, I can see that.”

“C’mon, baby, don’t you want to help me out?” Yoongi hums, peppering kisses along the length of your neck. A rough thumb drags over the peak of your nipple. “Promise it’ll be good for you.”

“Yoongi!”

“Fuck,” a kneecap grinds up against your tender pussy, spreading your slick, swollen folds open, “can feel you through my pants. Let me, I know you want to.”

Your hips stutter, and you swallow your whine. “I do…”

Pleasure sings in your blood as you soak the fabric covering his thigh, a needy desperation rearing its head from deep within.

Flames lick along your skin, liquid fire pooling low behind your navel like a shot of whiskey.

“But,” you long for the bite of his teeth, the snap of his hips, the roughness of his grip, “I just finished making breakfast.”

Pouting, you stare up at him.

A tender expression softens the lines of his face. But the desire simmering beneath the gentle veneer remains, rough and rude.

There’s a raging tempest in his gaze, twin rings of rich coffee consumed by the black holes of his pupils.

Utterly ravenous, greedy as he traces your features.

It’s a look that’ll leave you weak-kneed and pumped full of cum.

“I know, and I appreciate the effort.”

He’s earnest, aflame with craven desire even as he presses a tender kiss to the side of your face. 

“But I’d rather eat you out. You’ll let me, won’t you, pretty girl?”

You nearly choke on your tongue, and say, “Well, how am I supposed to say no to a face like that?”

You’ve barely got the words out before you find yourself flat on your back, the unyielding marble of Yoongi’s counter top cold against your heated skin.

Calloused palms pry your thighs apart, grip so firm it dimples the fat as Yoongi holds you open and exposed.

He runs his nose along your sensitive inner thigh, his lips warm and ready as his breath pants over your soaked core.

When your clit throbs, he groans low and wrecked, “Just look at this pretty pussy.”

Almost reverently, he strokes his thumbs over the length of your folds, dips his fingers into your entrance to spread the gathering slick.

Whimpering, your head smacks back against the granite and your hips jerk up towards his face

“Can’t wait til I get my mouth on you.”

“Shit, Yoongi, you can’t - you can’t just say stuff like that.”

He flicks your clit, relishing in how your whole body jumps as he demands, “Why not?”

“B-Because you just can’t, okay?” Your heart feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest. There’s no doubt, he’s going to be the death of you one day. “It’s not-”

Fair.

“I think you don’t want me talking like that because you like it. Don’t you, baby?”

“I-”

The words turn to ash on your tongue. A loud, sloppy lick up the length of your slit shuts you up while a harsh suck to your swollen clit makes you whine. Your back bows hard, your hands flying down to sink into the dark mane of his hair.

“Ohh g- ah!”

“That’s it,” Yoongi smacks his lips, humming low in his throat, “Let me hear you.”

Forearms anchor themselves over your thighs. Using his body weight to keep you pinned, he tugs you close and strokes his fingers over your sticky folds, humming in approval at the obscene squelch.

Slick oozes out of you with every talented caress, dripping down your ass to puddle on the countertop.

“Always get so wet for me, don’t you?” Yoongi buries his smirk in the crease of your thigh, his tongue darting out to tease the very edge of your cunt. “You’re such a messy little slut, just how I like it.”

Before you can properly respond, he’s spreading you open and bowing his head. You squirm as his plush lips glide over the top of your mound, butterfly kisses tracing the beginning of your needy slit.

His bangs brush the soft underside of your belly. “Ready?”

He doesn’t wait before diving in, sucking the hard nub of your clit into his mouth. Stars burst behind your clenched eyelids. Soft, warm suction sends pleasure ricocheting through your limbs, your stomach caving in with every tender pulse of his mouth.

Your mouth drops open on a silent gasp

“That’s so - fuck,” you pant, hand scrambling for something to hold onto, hips jerking beneath his firm grip. “Yoongi!”

The wild movements nearly dislodge him, and he grunts in displeasure before readjusting to keep you better pinned.

His tongue retreats from your clit, and he sets his teeth against your pussy in warning, a gentle bite that doesn’t break skin but carries the slightest sting.

“‘m sorry, please - haahhh - please don’t stop,” you slur, fingers digging into his scalp. “I’ll be good, just please don’t stop, I can’t-”

He grunts at the rake of your nails, tongue lashes out in retaliation. He dips the tip into the tight clench of your entrance, teasing your sensitive walls.

Meanwhile, his nose grinds against your clit. The sensation’s almost too much, your body alight like a live-wire. You feel like you’re about to rocket off of the countertop, one of your hands de-tangling from his hair to yank at your own.

“S’too much - s’too good. Please, baby, I can’t!”

Yoongi ignores your cries, knows you’d sooner stab him with a knife if he stopped.

Anyway, you can take it.

You’re his good girl, after all.

You both like it wet and messy; love when the honey of your cunt soaks his face, sticks to his lips and drips from his chin.

All you can do is cry out, your chest pointed towards the ceiling as his tongue fucks deep, never stops chasing every drop of pleasure. Your toes curl from the alteration between flat, firm licks and gentle sucks.

Sweat gathers in your hairline, behind your knees as a heady rush sends you spinning, mind a haze of sensation.

You can’t stop rolling your hips, chasing after his talented mouth. In no time at all, Yoongi’s going to have you violently, explosively cumming on his tongue - just like he always does.

“Give it to me,” he growls, “Wanna feel this pretty pussy gush.”

You moan,” Yoongi, I’m - please, don’t stop. R-Right there!”

Your thighs clench around his head, biting down on your lip to hold in the scream threatening to break free.

“Fuck, please, ‘m almost there.”

Your pathetic cries spur him on.

With renewed enthusiasm, Yoongi twirls his tongue across the top of your slit, the tip playing with the hood of your clit. You clench down hard. It’s almost too much, like he’s reached deep inside and plucked at your nerves.

Then, the leaden ball of heat behind your navel contracts. Expands into a blazing inferno that threatens to swallow you whole, spreading out along your limbs like bolts of lightening until you shake.

“That’s it, come on,” Yoongi says, coaxing every ounce of pleasure he can. “I’ve got you, pretty girl. Now, cum for me.”

All it takes is one last talented pulse of his tongue. Your orgasm rips through you with a loud, keening cry. Your back arches so high your spine feels like it’s about to snap, and slick gushes from you in a warm flood.

The ball of heat snaps, races down through your body from the crown of your head to your toes. Your thighs tremble from where they’re clenched around Yoongi’s head, soaked. Your heart slams against your ribs.

“F-Fuck…”

Collapsing against the cool stone, and panting hard, you push away stray hairs sticking to your face.

Glancing down the length of your twitching body, you see Yoongi still kneeling between your splayed thighs.

The lower half of his face is soaked with cum and drool. His sweatpants were kicked off at some point, you’re not sure when but it doesn’t really matter when his cock throbs against his belly, hard and wanting as the tip weeps pre-cum.

But it’s his eyes that really do you in; hot, hungry, and awe-filled.

“Can’t believe I’ve never made you squirt before.”

Those sinful lips part, red and swollen as his tongue swipes out to gather any leftover slick clinging to his mouth. A rough moan rumbles from his throat.

“Think you can do it again for me, baby?”

A weak laugh escapes you, and you think - not for the first time - that Min Yoongi is going to be the reason you die.

[telekinetictrait]

"Sunk in the grass of an empty lot on a spring Saturday, I split the stems of milkweed and thought about ants and peach pits and death and where the world went when I closed my eyes." (The Bluest Eye – Toni Morrison, 1970)

the flowing maxi skirts of the hippies and the flare pants of the disco queens made the 1970s the era of fashion that we think of today. the continued popularity and production of synthetic fabrics widened the closets of everyone and allowed for more experiments in style. the patenting of a rotating, multicolored garment printing machine in the 1960's directly led to the popularity of t-shirts and vibrantly patterned garments in the 1970's. polyester allowed for certain fabrics to be mimicked, like silk and velvet. like in the 1960's, fashion came second to comfort and personal style.

someone is playing the flute outside my dorm??

1800’s / 1900-1909 / 1910-1919 / 1920-1929 / 1930-1939 / 1940-1949 / 1950-1959 / 1960-1969

cc links under the cut!

see my resources page for genetics

sable : sheabuttyr's tessa tresses + hair flowers / kamiiri's ophelia top / oydis' joan skirt

scottie : jellypawss' valentine hair / needleworkreve's seventies dream eyeshadow / seasons earrings / realm of magic necklace / huiernxoxo's marina dress / historysims4's golden glamour boots

selene : nolan-sims' bluebells hair + headscarf / base game sunglasses / bustedpixels fifth avenue fashion collar dress conversion / i don't remember which pack the boots are from i'm sorry :(

sheridan : sheabuttyr's faye fro v2 / needleworkreve's seventies dream eyeshadow + eyeliner / twentiethcenturysims' beads and bangles necklace / faded-springs okruee wrap top recolor / makesims' velvet bell bottoms / base game boots

sigourney : sheabuttyr's belissa braids + bandana / needleworkreve's seventies dream eyeshadow + eyeliner / ice-creamforbreakfast's iris earrings / butternutsims' can you dig it dress / cottage living pumps

slavitsa : simstrouble's elisa hair + wrap / needleworkreve's seventies dream eyeshadow + eyeliner / base game earrings + necklace / pixelette-cc's retro reboot marigold jumpsuit (tsr download) / twentiethcenturysims' beads and bangles bracelets / base game flats

sonya : sheabuttyr's fana fro v1 / needleworkreve's seventies dream eyeshadow + eyeliner / ice-creamforbreakfast's jaclyn scarf + linda blouse / smubuh's burkhardt jeans / miirasims' træsko clogs

sparrow : saturngalore's fofofo hair / needleworkreve's seventies dream eyeshadow + eyeliner / historysims4's golden glamour bodysuit / leeleesims1's cute as two buttons pants / paranormal shoes

svetka : laeska's tonka hair / needleworkreve's seventies dream eyeshadow + eyeliner / base game earrings / alexaarr's teddi jacket / serenity-cc's terra jeans / miirasims' træsko clogs

sybil : cottage living hair / needleworkreve's seventies dream eyeshadow + eyeliner / base game earrings / tiptoptab's barb suit / simtone’s oxford heels

thank you to @sheabuttyr @kamiiri @oydis @jellypawss @needleworkreve @huiernxoxo @historysims4 @nolan-sims @bustedpixels @twentiethcenturysims @faded-springs @makesims @ice-creamforbreakfast @butternutsims @simstrouble @pixelette-cc @smubuh @miirasims @saturngalore @leeleesims1 @laeska @alexaarr @tiptoptab and @simtone

[illwilledomen]

What can you tell me about wasps? :3c

I’m not the biggest wasp expert (just a wasp appreciator) but I can tell you about some species of wasps in Aotearoa, my home country. My favourite native wasp is the black hunting wasp, particularly for its vibrant iridescent wings. I haven’t seen many in real life though. I also like Asian paper wasps which I do see often. I like them for their darker golden colour and thicker black bands (not as pale as European paper wasps) however unfortunately they’re invasive. My favourite non-NZ types of wasp are spider wasps, Asian giant hornets and red velvet ants (name is incorrect, they’re wasps)

[chrysalizzm]

vine boom. wasteland character expression memes

read the series here.

(more on the characters and also quality details under the cut)

so wasteland, the series currently being updated on ao3, focuses pretty much entirely on the dsmp cast, but behind the scenes the cast of this thing is sprawling, including but not limited to empires, hermitcraft, the life series, mcc participants, smpearth, noxcrew, older guard mcyts like jordan n mitch n jerome n seto n deadlox, speedrunners, tiredtwt, outsiders smp, fable smp, redacted smp, and my personal scrungklies, which are team salad, a korean mcyt group that brings me great joy. this is why there r characters on this expression meme chart that u probably do not recognize if u are a) under the age of 18 b) exclusively know dream smp or c) are not a korean speaker. some fun facts abt the wasteland characters, their powers, or the circumstances in which these expressions take place:

ivory was a sidekick for hermit that was chased into villainy following her coming out as trans. as throne, she is now one of jordan's lieutenants in trinity and has assassinated several government officials.

jimmy, alias firebird, is an empire offices hero. he also happens to be allied with the fates under the alias wildfire. i'm sure this is of no import in the story /lie

i cannot imagine in what circumstance punz would ever make that expression. mans is chill as fuck.

i accidentally anime boyed the hell out of fruit, alias floodbloom under chase co. he has a lot of admirers on tumblr and about two thirst accounts on twitter

shelby's (alias wilder) hero uniform is heavily inspired by princess mononoke. she's signed on under empire offices, like jimmy, and can release poisonous spores from her skin.

tommy's doing the nervous lore laugh in that drawing

velvet is doing the anime lady hohoho pose while covered in blood. if he didn't have painful and complicated emotions about velvet turning to villainy, ant would be swooning

dont worry about why illumina is covered in blood it is absolutely not related to the series whatsoever /suspicious. instead consider how illumina (alias anima) is fruit's hero partner under chase co.

shoutout to @pixelperfunctory for this req. thats the most boomer ass lookin expression in the world

a brooding phil (not to be confused with a broody phil, which is c!phil). techno starts to see this expression more and more as they get older.

not to toot my own horn but foolish came out extraordinarily handsome in this drawing. he has some golden scales and they glimmer brighter when he's happy, which eret is very fond of.

grian, who we know as seraphim from wonderland, is remarkably scrungkly. he has three sets of wings and is a talented flier.

wilbur also came out quite beautiful, blood and tears notwithstanding. the next fic scheduled to be published hopefully either by the end of may or early june might shine some light on his expression here

sapnap, like ivory and shelby, would probably tear someone's throat out with his teeth given the opportunity. in the interim he gets thousands of thirst traps made of him by adoring stans.

i imagine that's the kind of AYO?? expression ponk makes whenever sam short-circuits the entire spark co. headquarters

my boy. he's not lookin too good

mapple (villain name kallisti, also known by other villain orgs as she of the heights) my scrungkly. in wasteland he's the leader of villain org team salad which is not at all what it appears to be. that particular drawing is a rare moment where he's being flustered by his very charming queerplatonic partner parkmo.

oh my love. by the time the silver age ends seto has been dead for six years. in life he was one of chase co.'s senior heroes, alias sigil, and he could control the wind. his friends - mitch and jerome, especially, who are the joint heads of chase co. - loved him very much.

[bedupolker]

Do you have a favorite bug ot type of bug? Mine are bees, but I also like non parasitic isopods and love the look of golden tortoise beetles and panda ants.

my top ten insects are:

six spotted tiger beetle

dekay's velvet ant (but also velvet ants in general)

snowberry clearwing

greater bee flies

desert ironclad beetle

just most kinds of weevils

Those bright green damsel flies that have black wings I forget what they’re called

All the other ones. (except mosquitos i hate those wretched women)

[peppertaemint]

Dear Peppertaemint,

I sort of think of you as an expert when it comes to K-Pop, media literacy and topics that deal with queer themes, given your writings on Taemin's work for example. I hope my inquiry won't be considered a waste of time because I know you don't deal with silliness in your inbox, but I will try my luck.

I will admit that I keep up a bit with the BTS members, albeit scarcely. I happened to read on twitter (known as X now) that through his artistic expression, Taehyung is either indicating he is queer or perhaps a suporter (an ally just like Valentina) of the community. All that is supposedly apparent in his first solo music video, with references to queer cinema or the clothes he's wearing for a photoshoot. Of course, this is not the first time this has been speculated in online circles. I'll post a link at the end of this message so you could get an idea of what I'm trying to explain.

What I would wish for is a more unbiased opinion from someone with vast knowledge and a cultural background and who doesn't feel the need to prove anything about their bias. At least I think he's not your bias. Please correct me if I'm wrong.

I'm looking forward to your response. As always 🩷

Sincerely

Lady A. Assante

https://twitter.com/polyatannies/status/1689591513032900608?t=Kp20X2STVljKh0RDs7MNVg&s=19

Hello Lady A. Assante,

Despite there being a high probability that this ask is a put-on, I’m going to take it at face value and reply in earnest.

I looked at the link you sent, which was a tweet of a Russian video purporting to tie the films Velvet Goldmine (1998) and Jubilee (1978) to Taehyung’s recent MV and, seemingly, his identity. I can’t read the Russian blocks of text in the video, but I can see the split-screen shots comparing Tae to characters in Velvet Goldmine. I can also see that Taehyung appears to wear a shirt of the film Jubilee in a promotional photo.

Now, I’m old enough to have been around when Velvet Goldmine came out; it’s a film about sexuality and aesthetics in the glam rock era, and it not-so-subtlety tells, at least in part, a take on the long time rumour of David Bowie and Mick Jagger’s liaison as lovers during glam rock days. In all honesty, I cannot see how this film in any way, shape, or form, has any relation to Taehyung’s “Love Me Again” MV beyond perhaps they both involve sequinned outfits.

“Love Me Again” is a slightly moody, barebones MV of Taehyung singing in a Spanish cave surrounded by retro items. His hair is a golden mess, while his clothes are cheap sequin getups with golden chains around his neck. Tae is moody in his MV, but he’s no glam rocker. He’s a crooner lost in time and confused. He ends the MV practically disgruntled. For me, the through line of the exotic setting, the props and the styling doesn’t quite come through. So, there wasn’t a lot for me to take away from Taehyung’s MV, but when all his MVs are released, I will watch them in order and share my thoughts. Again, I don’t see any meaningful relation between these two works. And certainly I don’t see anything overtly queer about Taehyung’s MV. If someone wants to come with concrete examples of “he said X” or “he did X” or “he wore X,” then I can consider such things.

And about his clothes: Derek Jarman was an important gay rights activist in the UK. But his activism was, more generally, in the 1980s onward, and focused on certain laws that effected education in the UK as well as raising awareness of the AIDS epidemic. These are very important works, especially to me living in Britain as a queer person. However, the film Jubilee is not about that work. It’s a punk film in response to the Queen’s Jubilee in 1977, and it presents a dystopian future of monarchical Britain and features some of the best punk bands of the time, including The Slits and Adam and the Ants. That shirt is about the punk movement - an important movement in Britain to be sure, but it isn’t centred on queerness.

My advice to Kpop fans looking for queerness in Kpop is to start with those who are doing concrete things in the genre: Holland and OnlyOneOf are a great place to start. Then you can look at Taemin, Key and SHINee as a whole, and reach out from there. SHINee’s “My Identity” from the album Hard (2023) was played at Seoul pride this year. I’d really recommend having a listen. And before a critical interloper writes in to say that everything queer must be cryptically coded because SK isn’t safe for LGBT+; I’m very aware of the rights people are lacking in SK. However, there are levels to meanings in art, and every artist has their own comfort zone when it comes to what they wish to share, and what they wish to be “unlock-able,” and what they wish to keep firmly for themselves. What I don’t think is helpful is conspiracy-level theories about art being queer-coded. That’s because art is already meant to interact with its audience; what a piece of art means to you is what is the most important. If you find something that speaks to your queer side in Taehyung’s work, than for you, that’s what his work is. That doesn’t mean his identity matches yours. There’s no need for that. That’s the beauty of art.

As a postscript, this shot here is exactly what reminds me of Key’s solo work: spooky retro style. That’s Key’s signature, which has been a personal extension of certain works in SHINee’s oeuvre (like “Married to the Music”). What remains unclear for me is what this union of elements signifies for Taehyung.

[loganwritesprobably]

Ball, Day Two

This is part two to a fic written by @frillsinadress , featuring Sabo and her OC Cornelia which you will be able to find here Tags/Warnings: Cornelia/Sabo, smut, RA members doing RA things, somnophilia mention, cum stuffing, remote control vibrator, public sex, unknowing participants, edging, begging, penetrative sex, raw sex, rough sex, overstimulation, praise, cream pie, aftercare

Word count: 3346

“Are you ready for day two?” Sabo asked, offering his arm to Cornelia. Sure, she was as ready as she could be given the morning they’d had. 

After the shenanigans of the previous night, Sabo had taken it upon himself to up the ante for the second day of the event. Cornelia had woken up with him already fucking her, in immediate ecstasy. She’d had to shove her head into the pillow to avoid disturbing the surrounding rooms. He filled her up not once but twice, and then handed her a period cup to insert. “It’ll keep everything in there.” He’d told her, and Cornelia had been so turned on she hadn’t even wanted to complain, nevermind tried. She inserted it, spilling as little as she could manage, and then they’d gotten ready for the day. On day one, they’d worn beautiful jewel tone blues and on day two they’d chosen to change things up a little.

Cornelia’s dress was floor length, with a skirt with less volume than the day before. The bodice was black, beads painstakingly threaded along it to make it shimmer just slightly in the right lighting and adding texture to the inky black fabric. The straps sat wide on her shoulders, widening the lower you looked with a deep v to the very bottom of the bodice so her chest and a small amount of her stomach were visible, the back solid to keep that hidden. The skirt was floor length, sliding along the floor as she walked, almost giving the effect that she was floating. The skirt was a solid wine red in colour, with two layers of black chiffon on top so that the two colours blended, making the red a far more subtle pop of colour.

Sabo’s suit matched in colour, with a black plain shirt beneath an ornate red waistcoat, black as the base colour with red elaborate damask patterned stitching covering the majority of the garment, and a black velvet collar to break up the pattern. His tie was also black with red detailing, matching the waistcoat he wore, a solid black velvet pocket square sitting in the bottom right pocket of his waistcoat. To reduce how garish his outfit looked, his trousers were a simple solid black, a golden chain clipped to his belt with a pocket watch on the other end, sitting in the left pocket of his trousers.

They looked nothing short of ravishing.

It was easy to get lost in the luxury of the event when the pair reentered the ballroom. It was like nothing Cornelia had seen before, and some small part of her wished there were more chances for her to have this, that she could enjoy this luxury just a little more often. If this was her every day, it would lose that special feeling - but maybe just every now and then. A guilty pang ran through her body, but the feeling of Sabo squeezing her arm brought her back to the moment, and she focused on their mission.

The first dance was easy, they fell into the steps together, spinning around the dancefloor. By the time they’d joined the masses, the room was already brimming, so they didn’t have to worry about being too early to distract themselves. That also meant Sabo wanted to start his game.

The cup wasn’t the only thing Cornelia was wearing. Sabo had given her a special pair of underwear, with a pouch for a vibrator to be inserted, and he had the remote control to pair with it. The remote sat in his trouser pocket, opposite to the pocket watch, and it felt heavy like lead, he was so aware of its presence, eager to tease his girl. Just not yet. 

They separated to mingle with guests, asking subtle questions to get the information that they needed from the nobles present. It was almost too easy, they gave away secrets so freely when they believed you were one of them. That you’d agree with them, and their practices. Perhaps this was an approach they should take more often.

Cornelia was about to head outside for a breath of fresh air when the Duke from the day before approached her. “Your highness, I’m blessed to have found you again.” He began, taking Cornelia’s hand to kiss her knuckles. “Duke, I feel rather lucky myself to have encountered you.” She also felt quite lucky that last time she saw him, Sabo was distracted by a conversation with a lord, unable to see her with the familiar man.

“You looked like you were headed out for the gardens, might I accompany you?” He asked, offering Cornelia his arm to take, and she did so, the feeling of eyes on her back sparking both dread and excitement in her gut. 

Cornelia allowed the Duke to guide her out into the gardens, the same place they’d found themselves the night before, and seeing the bench where Sabo had eaten her out made heat pool in her abdomen. Now was not the time.

She and the Duke walked leisurely around the gardens, arm in arm, discussing art and politics and any manner of other things, whatever Cornelia could manage. He praised her for her desire to come out despite her poor health, and her resilience across the two days of the event, and though it wasn’t true Cornelia couldn’t help enjoying the praise. It was nice, he was so genuine. The vibrator didn’t whirr to life even once, leaving Cornelia feeling.. Well, quite suspicious. She’d been so sure her interaction with the Duke could provoke Sabo.

As they approached the ballroom again, she spotted Sabo standing near the doorway, hands in his pockets. They made a brief moment of eye contact before the vibrator started, thankfully on the lowest setting Cornelia coughed to cover her soft moan, and allowed the Duke to lead her to a bench. “Is your illness rearing its ugly head, your highness?” The Duke enquired, hesitating to sit beside her, lest he somehow make it worse. “Ah, yes. I’ll be alright, I just need to take a moment to rest.” “Is there anything I can do to help you?” He asked, partly looking like he wanted to flee for help. At that moment, the vibrator stopped, and Cornelia breathed a soft sigh of relief. “No, I’m quite alright. The feeling has passed. Escort me back to the ballroom?” She asked, holding out her hand for him to take, and the Duke helped her to her feet and did just that.

Sabo was gone when they reentered the room, nowhere to be seen, and Cornelia had to take a few deep breaths to contain her frustration. She wanted to scold him, even if this was the very game that she had agreed to just hours before. In front of the same guy? That was just unnecessarily risky, but then he’d always been someone who’d liked a game of risk. She’d kill him when she saw him.

The Duke insisted on a dance, and Cornelia couldn’t find a way to refuse him. It was fine, she could manage. They stepped onto the dancefloor as the next song began, and for the first few steps she struggled to find her footing, always concerned the vibrator would start again, or she’d trip and make a fool of herself, but the Duke held her steady thankfully seeming to chalk everything up to her fake illness. They turned around the floor, stepping in sync, and Cornelia for just a moment was able to forget what Sabo could to do her, what he was inevitably waiting to do again. But that moment did not last long, because as soon as she settled, flowing around the dancefloor, the vibrator clicked on again, this time at a higher setting than before, and Cornelia almost collapsed, only the Duke’s strong hold on her keeping her on her feet.

Once again, he guided her away to find somewhere to sit down, and Cornelia was starting to feel a little ashamed. She shouldn’t need to be guided around by a man she’d just met, but she also hoped that it was driving Sabo insane, seeing someone else’s hands on her. She allowed him to help her sit, then watched as he rushed away to get her a glass of water. It was once he was gone that she spotted Sabo across the room, a shit eating grin on his face, hand still in his pocket. He dialled the vibrator up for only a moment before turning it off entirely, and Cornelia sighed in relief, shuddering slightly. Despite her being thankful that the feeling had stopped which would allow her to compose herself, she also was growing increasingly frustrated over her lack of orgasm - shit she wanted to cum. 

Sabo had disappeared again when she looked up, and the Duke had reappeared with a glass of water, which he handed to her with a smile. “I’m not sure if it will help, but I wanted to at least try, dear.” And while she appreciated the sentiment, she didn’t appreciate the pet name directed at her. He was just a little too comfortable. Cornelia sipped the water in silence for a long moment, desperately searching for Sabo to come help her. Where was he when she needed him? “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, Duke, I need to powder my nose.” She finally said, giving up on the idea of her useless boyfriend swooping in to save her. Giving the Duke the half empty glass, she smoothed her hands over the skirt of her dress, then swept away to find a bathroom. She really couldn’t handle being trapped with him for any longer, and it wasn’t really helping with their mission.

In the bathroom, Cornelia took a few minutes to calm herself down, sitting down to use the toilet reminding her that Sabo’s cum was still stuffed inside her which caused another wave of need to roll over her, and despite the temptation to touch herself to relieve some of the tension in her body, Cornelia knew that would ruin the game. The tension is half of the fun. With some water splashed onto her face and her bladder emptied, she was ready to go again.

Only to collide with Sabo immediately upon exiting the bathroom.

He wrapped his arms around her to prevent her from falling, a smirk on his face. “Hey gorgeous.” He greeted, and Cornelia rolled her eyes, allowing him to help her back to her feet and pushed up her glasses. “Where have you been?” She hissed at him, elbowing him roughly in the ribs. Sabo coughed, but laughed all the same, leaning in to whisper against Cornelia’s ear. “Why? Have you missed me sweet thing?” Which made Cornelia’s cheeks tint pink, pushing him away. “Because I got stuck with that Duke and couldn’t get away.” She corrected, not as harsh as she’d have liked to have sounded. Sabo’s hand trailed over her thighs, only a feather light touch over layers of fabric, but he may as well have set her on fire. “Good thing you’re back with me now then, where you belong.” Cornelia had to resist the urge to jump his bones, or punch him, both were viable options in the moment.

Without another word, Sabo took her hand and guided Cornelia back to the dancefloor for the start of the next song, easily stepping in amongst the crowd, guiding her until she caught up. “You’re the worst.” Cornelia admonished, struggling for a moment before he fell into step with her partner. “You love me.” Sabo replied, winking at her, and yeah maybe she did but that was beside the point. They danced together with ease, and when the music shifted from one song to the next, Sabo didn’t let her go, simply continuing to twirl around the dancefloor together, smiling all the while. So, it caught Cornelia off guard when the vibrator clicked on again. He’d not even moved his hand. Which was what revealed to her that he’d had it in his hand all along, pressed up against her back.

It clicked on, and it started low at first, Sabo’s arms around her continuing to guide her in their dance, and she was glad he was so strong because after just a few minutes he increased the setting by two. She’d yet to feel any higher than the third setting, and she almost dreaded finding out how it’d feel, if this was how three felt - but it had eight total levels. They continued their dance, with Cornelia making more mistakes than she had since they’d first started practising, distracted by the vibrations sending pleasure straight to her clit. She stumbled around the floor as Sabo increased the vibrations again, then again, then again.

By the time a third song began to play, Cornelia’s legs were trembling and Sabo was practically dragging her across the floor, Cornelia’s face buried in his shoulder to avoid showing others her pleasure. “You’re doing so well for me princess. Just a little longer, and don’t you cum.” Sabo whispered into her ear, lifting her up to spin her around before lowering her back down to the floor. It was becoming increasingly harder to follow that last instruction, to stave off her orgasm. Before she knew it, the vibrator was buzzing at its highest setting, and she had to physically bite down on Sabo to stop herself from making any noise.

As quick as it had started, the vibrations stopped, just before she could cum, and Sabo pocketed the vibrator. He couldn’t be patient for any longer, he needed to be inside her now. He uttered a few soothing words, as if she were unwell, to ease the suspicions of people nearby, and guided Cornelia away from the masses toward their room. Oh he was going to ruin her - he’d been so patient and now it was time for him to fuck her like she deserved.

It wasn’t easy to guide Cornelia to their room, her legs were still shaky, and she couldn’t speak again just yet, which quickly caused Sabo to cave and scoop her up bridal style, sweeping past the Duke from earlier - there was no time for him right now, Sabo had a princess to fuck.

He kicked the door closed the moment they were inside, roughly throwing Cornelia down on the bed. She was more aware now, and instinctively spread her legs for him so Sabo could have access to her to do whatever he wanted to do. The first step was for Sabo to grab the lube, pouring some on his fingers before pushing them inside her to retrieve the cup from inside. Then, nothing could have stopped him from coating his cock in lube and thrusting inside her.

He’d pulled Cornelia down to the edge of the bed, with her ankles on his shoulders as he stood in front of her so that she could comfortably lay down and he could still fuck her how he wanted. Maybe, if after this, she was up for more he’d flip her over onto her hands and knees and fuck her like that.

“You feel so fuckin good, sweet thing.” Sabo groaned as he bottomed out inside her, condom never even considered. He didn’t give a shit, he just needed to fuck her. Cornelia’s responding moan was all Sabo needed before he started slowly rocking against her, starting easy so that she wouldn’t cum too soon - after all, where was the fun in that? It didn’t take long for Cornelia to start whimpering his name, begging him for more. “Plea- please.. Please Sabo.. need it- ah- need you to fuck me-!” She whined, desperately rocking her hips to try to get more of him, eager to feel him rutting against her g-spot, to have him fuck her the way she knew he liked best - dirty and fast.

“I suppose.. Since you’ve been such a good girl for me today.” And that was all it took. Sabo took both her heels in one hand, bending her legs toward her head to give him more space, and knelt on the bed with one leg. He let her legs rest over his left shoulder, then without warning began to pound into her, grunting and groaning, his hat long since having fallen off, and his suit becoming unkempt and crumpled. It was worth it for that perfect look on her face, eyes rolling back and mouth hanging slightly open in an ‘o’ shape as she gasped and moaned for him.

Cornelia came almost immediately, having been so needy for hours already, and taken so close to the edge once already before. But that didn’t stop Sabo. He wanted to finish too, and since she’d done so well for him, he supposed she deserved at least two orgasms. He reached first up to his mouth to remove his glove, fabric taken in his teeth to tug at it without stopping his movements, then reached down to rub her clit. In response, she borderline screamed, already so sensitive after the day they’d had and now she was touching her so insistently, eager to make her cum for him just once more. Sabo himself was nearing his climax, but he couldn’t stop until she did. “Come on doll, I know you can give me one more.” He urged, angling himself to thrust directly into her g-spot, his fingers still rubbing harsh circles on her clit. Cornelia whined and moaned, writhing and desperately gripping the sheets beneath her, her hair wild and glasses on the brink of falling from her face.

“Cum for me, princess, cum on my cock and I’ll fill you up.” And that was all it took for Cornelia to come undone again, clenching around Sabo’s dick as it washed over her, eyes rolling back so far all he could see was white and her back arched so prettily. He wouldn’t have been able to hold on any longer if he’d tried, so Sabo’s orgasm quickly followed, flooding her with cum for the third time that day.

The two took a long few minutes in silence to calm down, letting their hearts slow and their breathing even out. In that moment, Sabo regretted not using a condom because he had no idea how to pull out without making a mess of her dress. He glanced around, looking for something to use or a way to do this without ruining the dress she’d loved so much. Cornelia didn’t seem to sense his turmoil, still floating in post-orgasmic bliss, when it occurred to Sabo that his pocket square might just be able to save the day. He pulled out, using that to prevent mess, then instructed Cornelia to hold it while he helped her out of her dress.

Once she was gloriously naked, and sadly lacking in bite marks or hickeys (a job for another time), he guided her through to their ensuite and gave her a wet cloth to wipe up while he started the shower with hot water, making sure it was a comforting temperature without being scalding, then carried her in, sitting her down on the shelf installed in there - rich people things. He wiped away her makeup, washed her hair and her body, using the fancy soaps that had been left in the room for them, then let her continue sitting there after he’d turned off the water so he could moisturise her too. Sabo pressed a tender kiss to her lips with a warm smile. “You okay, dove?” He asked her, hoisting Cornelia back to her feet. “Yeah,” she agreed with a nod, “just enjoying the princess treatment.” He playfully swatted her ass then wrapped her up in a fluffy, heated towel, allowing her to finish drying herself off independently while he did the same for himself. “You enjoyed it?” He checked, because he could never be too sure. “Yes, idiot. And we got what we needed, so I’d call that a successful mission.”

SFW Requests currently open ONLY

AO3 | Fanfic Masterlist | Request Rules | Recs

Tags: @claryeverlarkf @uselessboots @cainnoable

[indiefox]

(some of) d(og)smp eggpire. still not sure how i want to draw bbh (irish wolfhound) but i'm getting there. probably. wirefur is weird to work with. skeppy is a "blue" (really gray) chihuahua.

golden retriever velvet is Not the real velvet btw. specifically its the egg (in however it end up in the au) pretending to be velvet to trick ant. real velvet is an irish setter.

[how-masterful]

31 Fics of Fright

Day 16- The Perks of Being Stranded

Ainley!Master X Reader

Prompt: Autumn

Notes: This series is just a plethora of my favourite Halloween/ Autumn tropes by this point. What can i say, it’s the most wonderful time of the year! I promise we’ll be back to our scheduled spooky programming tomorrow. For now, enjoy some domestic Fall bliss.

Warnings: None

The Master found humans fascinating. Not in the same manner as the doctor, who would happily adopt any and all strays that wandered into his gaudy old police box. More in the fashion of a scientist, a researcher, putting the ants under the magnifying glass and watching how they scarpered. He lounged back against the park bench, watching the humans wander and stroll, partaking in their daily lives. 

He watched them with sonder, his gaze falling on them with curiosity. What meaningless tasks were they about to partake in? A couple and an infant walked down the path, obvious bags under their eyes as the child happily slept. Another was running down the street, mobile device tethered to their arm, ears happily plugged with headphones pounding drivel as they partook in sport. Another was laughing and filming her fellow preteen friend kicking at the mounted pile of leaves the groundsman had just taken approximately an hour and nine minutes to clean up. 

The Master half smiled, leaning back against the bench and folding his arms. They were the ones he currently found least appalling in that public park.

That was until he saw you heading down the walkway, carrying a paper bag and balancing your grip with two beverages in a cardboard case. Your bag slung across your middle, practically hiding underneath your woollen coat and knitted scarf, you almost seemed like one of the other humans. Almost.

You smiled as your eyes met his, your pace quickening as you found your way across the path to sit down on the bench, settling down into your seat with a well- deserved sigh.

“I forgot how impatient people were on Earth for their coffee.”

You said, the Master taking the brown paper bag from your clutches.

“Humans do rather lack the ability to wait their turn. Especially when it comes time to feed their caffeine addictions.”

“How’s the reset doing?” You asked, pulling the coffee cup from the holder and taking a sip. You hummed quietly at the warmth on your tongue, sinking back against the bench to match the Master’s posture. The Timelord pulled up the velvet edge of his sleeve, peering down at the golden watch that sat upon his wrist. The watch face beeped and buzzed, the Master pulling down his sleeve resentfully.

“The TARDIS is making progress, we should be able to return in a few hours' time.”

The TARDIS had suffered from an attack, the inside manipulated by matter and convulsing into an indomitable labyrinth. She was currently disguised as a public monument, the inside repairing itself at agonisingly slow speed. She’d dropped you both off in the 21st century, allowing you to kill time while she was able to restore. You hadn’t been back to Earth in quite some time.

“Well, in that case, we’ll have to keep making the most of things. I somehow managed to distract the barista with the black card so much they forgot to charge for the pastries.”

The Master truly smiled then, opening the bag and peering down at the freshly baked treats. 

“I presume they’re of the cinnamon kind.” He spoke, lifting it to his nose to sniff.

“How revolutionary, spices in the Autumn.”

You playfully snatched the bag away, replacing it with the Master’s disposable cup.

“If you’re going to insult my freebies, you can starve.” You teased, pulling the individually wrapped cinnamon roll out of the bag.

“And for your information, I got you a pecan nut twist. I couldn’t match your attitude with something salty, so I had to match your personality instead.”

The Master raised an eyebrow, gracefully taking the bag again from your hands and smiling at you expectantly. You knew that grin spoke of danger.

“Ok, that was a bit far. I’m sorry.” You admitted, taking a further sip of your drink. “I’m also slightly proud. But mostly sorry.”

“I’ll accept that apology,” he said casually. “Though, I suggest you don’t question why I'm taking so long to rescue you from peril the next time you get yourself into avoidably foolish danger.”

You gasped, scandalised, before laughing quietly in acceptance. You deserved that, really.

“I’ll make a note of it. I’ll also up my grovelling if that negates the silent treatment later.”

“I believe this… baked twist… will do, my dear. Though that offer is quite tempting.”

At that, the pair of you sat there in a comfortable silence, indulging in the quiet and eating your freshly baked goods. You leant against the Master's side, an unspoken further apology in your gesture, the Master's acceptance of the move speaking for his forgiveness. You both inhaled deep, allowing the crisp air to enter into your lungs. You had to admit, you’d missed these days- sitting in the fresh air and diving into a book, watching the world go by and appreciating your temporary freedom from work. Now all your time was free time, especially with the Master. The universe was your playground, each destination a set of coordinates and a trip into the vortex later. 

You sat and watched the world, the time passing wonderfully in the ambience of the Autumn. More leaves had fallen from the trees in the passing wind, the green grass disappearing beneath the ocean of red and brown. You loved the taste of the air, the delightful chill it sent down your spine. You could spend eternity in Autumn, you’d decided. Especially if the Master was at your side.

A stray cat had wandered across the path, a scruffy black cat with short hair and bright yellow eyes. It crawled its way towards the Master, meowing and nuzzling itself against the Timelords leg. You watched him bend down to delicately scratch between the feline’s ears, tickling under its chin. The cat blinked slowly under the Master's touch, meowing softly in enjoyment.

“I never suspected the Kittling’s would remain when the planet collapsed.”

He muttered to himself, the small cat nuzzling the Master's hand. You gasped, a smile spreading across your face.

“It’s a Kittling?”

“Yes, he’s quite far from where the others landed. But he seems to be keeping himself occupied.”

The Master placed the rest of the pastry back into the brown bag, offering it to the Kittling. The cat meowed, you supposed in thanks, before scarpering off back into the bushes.

“Are cats supposed to eat pastry?” You questioned, watching the leaves settle.

“He has a family to feed. It appears he’s halfway to domesticity.”

You looked up at the Timelord, a loving gaze. You watched him observing the various park goers, watching them pass in their busy lives. You supposed he’d also been slightly domesticated, not that you’d ever let him know that, your heart beating strong at the way his hand had unknowingly come to settle on top of yours.

“Since we have another hour or so left,” You began, the Master turning to you and meeting your gaze.

“Would you care to join me on a stroll?”

You felt a heat in your cheeks as the Master smiled, your heart lurching as he finally took hold of your hand, softly squeezing it within his velvet grasp.

“I would be honoured, my dear.” He replied, as the leaves continued to fall.

[omegawhiskers]

Dynamite 8/11/23

The Devil Attacks

Dynamite opens with Adam Cole telling MJF that Samoa Joe is the partner he needs at Full Gear. But that means Joe gets a shot at the AEW World title, so this is clearly not a good option. Daniel Garcia interrupts and MJF asks are we getting the sports entertainer or wrestler tonight? Garcia says we will get the wrestler. Roderick Strong gets wheeled into the segment and Cole shuts down the call. Roddy looks at the camera and says “It’s time to remind everyone exactly who the hell I am!”

Garcia and MJF had a good showing, and the idea here was for MJF to persuade Garcia to be his own man. The problem with this story is, 2.0 holding Garcia back has been limbo for months. When Garcia does break from 2.0, it was won't get quite the pop.

Darby Allin/Sting vs. The Outrunners was short but effective. Sting got the victory with the scorpion deathlock, establishing, despite his retirement, he can still pick up the win.

Hikaru Shida and Toni Storm have a sit-down interview. This was a fun segment with Storm, but I’m not sure if she is meant to be a heel or babyface.

It’s quite disgusting how talented Swerve Strickland and Penta El Zero Miedo are in the ring. They delivered a PPV quality match. To make this segment even better, Adam Page turned up with a steel chair. He cracked it over the body of Swerve a few times before giving him the deadeye off the stage through some tables. Page kept yelling ‘’You’re a dead man’’. This is the side of Page we needed to see.

The Young Bucks are still not happy about The Golden Jets as a tag team. Matt and Nick issue a challenge at Full Gear. Kenny Omega finally intervenes and accepts the challenge, although he doesn’t want to wrestle them, but feels the Bucks are being a bunch of ‘’Sissy, whiny, bitchy children.’’ There's stipulation with this match also. The Young Bucks number one contender’s match for the AEW Tag Team Titles are on the line, but to up the ante, if Jericho/Omega lose, then The Golden Jets are no more. This is a much better scene for The Young Bucks as I felt like the ROH trios belts really derailed them.

The ROH TV title was on the line as Samoa Joe defended his title against Keith Lee. Lot’s of meat chants throughout this match as punches, chops rained down. Joe won via rear naked choke. In a shocking post-match moment, Joe vacated the ROH TV Championship. He’s reasoning is that he is now focused 100% on the AEW World Championship. I’m not sure if you can legally vacant a belt, but I think moving the ROH titles off of AEW is a good move.

Red Velvet returned to action after being out with an injury for 9 months. Velvet was super impressive in this match against Julia Hart. These two women put on a good match. Velvet needs to be featured more if these are the kind of matches she can work. Hart starts the post match beat down, but Skye Blue comes to the ring to have a stare down with Julia. Willow Nightingale and Kris Statlander come to aid Velvet and Blue. There is still friction between Blue and Kris. Like the Garcia story, this one is lingering for too long. Just have these two fight already because it will get to the point of no one caring.

Mariah May made her AEW debut. She was interview by RJ City where she marks out Toni Storm. I don’t know anything about May, but it’s good to see the woman’s division growing.

Our main event was Jay White vs. Mark Briscoe. The Full Gear title shot was on the line, so there was not way Briscoe was winning. This was a decent match, but what transpired afterwards was the main angle.

MJF made his way from behind and attacked Bullet Club Gold. Max was unsuccessful at getting his belt back again. The lights went out as cameras backstage showed masked men attacking The Acclaimed. Antony Bowens was sent through a glass window. The Man in the Devil Mask appeared on screen. MJF rushed to the back to where The Acclaimed lay half dead. MJF didn't ask were they OK or called for some medical assistance. At the start of the show Roderick Strong did say he was going to remind everyone who he is, but that could be a red herring. I'm still leaning on Jack Perry.

I'm glad to see the person behind the devil mask finally did something that really affected MJF. And this needs to continue until Full Gear. The matches were also a step up from last week. Overall a much better episode compared to last week.

[abilitypatches]

I KNOW IM SUPPOSED TO BE SLEEPING BUT SHSHSHSH FOR A SECOND!!!!!!!!

i think cookie run x dream smp is fun concept, so i made a few names!

george - mushroom king cookie

sapnap - melted choco cookie

bad - velvet choco cookie

foolish - golden trident cookie

puffy - marshmallow sheep cookie

ant - cat charm cookie

tommy - golden disc cookie

tubbo - iced honey cookie

[fleshinsomniac]

Wide-open windows welcome the outside world into a 1980s apartment. Sidewalk conversation carries through the bamboo and lingers in the kitchen alongside the sunbeams gracing the black and white linoleum. Habitually, I follow the sound with quiet prayers for peace or recovery, never once leaving the comfort of my Hermitude.

A cat sleeps curled in the rocking chair, tail delicately wrapped around his paws, the ride and fall of his chest mirroring mine. Next to him sits a crumpled sock he's been toting around the apartment as his recent kill; in his paw steps hides a prideful bounce. He's my little prince; even as he scratches up my silk bathrobe, the quiet world is made full by his presence.

I lay naked on the bed, face down, sweat beads in liquid crystal on my back. The fan spins its blades in silent effort as it pushes the hot, stale bedroom air across the bed and over my body. Noting the differences in air movement as an invisible finger trailed along my spine, I sighed and turned my head to the side. At once, my whole body sighs alongside me.

My daydreams are less dream and more day, painting the world around me in soft film and colour. Superimposed upon whatever may be the more "objective" reality, my imagination names everything its own and makes them anew. The light catches in a patch of dried glue, refracting in brilliant white and electric blue. I see myself surrounded by chrysalis, not quite here or there. My heart is enough to swallow the whole world; I do not care if I can survive the feeling. I care not for any lines drawn; I only want to be.

Light filters through the leaves, casting blue-haloed shadows on the asphalt. With the grass dead and dried, color comes in clusters of cornflowers and velvet green leaves of Queen Anne's lace. Roses grow heavy with fruit; sunflowers compete with the real thing above my head. It's not over yet, the sweat-soaked shorts, the opening of the windows in the morning, shutting up the apartment as the day gets hotter. Still, what crescendoed during the solstice now trembles with anticipation as the night bleeds further still. Bear cubs eat their fill ( and then some) of summer berries; the air is filled with the pubescent squawking of juvenile crows, their baby feathers peaking grey through their glossy blackest blue.

The arms of fig trees grow heavy, voluptuous green fruits take on new hues beneath the protective shade of the massive leaves. Even the ants, who have stolen away through the bricks and sealant, diligently carry crumbs to some unknown paradise. I pool into all street corners, stretching along haloed shadows, catching on a spider's web. I burrow my face softly between blush pink petals, delicately drinking in the world, and I am drunk off heaven.

A collection of cherry pits sits in the drain, awaiting whatever fate bestowed upon them. I ate about a pound from the tree, swallowing the occasional pit- laughing as childish fear resurfaced, the image of giving birth to an orchard. In cherry lust, I went back to eating, now staring at the pits, sleeping in the sink; a twinge of guilt washes over me. The seeds are humming with each other, buzzing with the same knowledge as the bear cubs, figs, and crows. "There is more to come," says the world.

"Please give me a moment. It's still just summer."

Each seed is a tiny stone holding secrets. And here I am, selfishly keeping their futures in the sink. Bile climbs, burning the base of my throat. Guilty, I toss a few seeds out the front door and off the stoop. I know of no home for these seeds; there is no assured kindness to receive them, but they have more chance of a future than dwelling in my kitchen drain. Above us, the leaves of a buckeye tree rustle- pointed green fruits preparing for their big Early October debut. The future buzzes just outside my chest, a golden hive of could-be's. There are evenings yet to come before the trees flush with orange. There is yet a world where the cherry pits become trees. The tomatoes have yet to ripen and dry on the vine; it's still just summer.

If I choke and call the story before it's been written, I'm afraid the cherry trees won't grow. Both clarity and constriction can come from definitions, so I refuse to trace my finger along either line, diving this from that. If I say what it is, it is bound to trade faces. The walls are fated to crumble once christened. All or nothing, I tread in mountain waters and feel three years go by in a minute. I won't give this up for a word, not for sense or meaning-making. I take it all in as a baby, alien and strange, without known reason or name. July ends with green acorns; I end with but a word.

[canisvesperus]

Yo, do you watch ants Canada? I feel like with your interest in spiders, Ant colonies might be cool to you too! Also the person who runs it has a greenbottle blue tarantula named Azula that's so pretty omg. Idk what you might need warnings for, so I'll say there's some decernable meat products, given the carnivorous nature of some of the colonies, so if you need more info to check it out just hmu! I watch a lot of them

Yeah, I’ve seen a few of their videos! My interest in hobbyist keeping has waned for various reasons, but I still certainly love the animals. Ants are cool, though (controversial stance) I kind of prefer wasps. Here’s a little Dasymutilla sackenii velvet ant (actually a wasp, though wasps and ants are closely related) I found two weeks ago at the stables.