#i spent a million hours rendering this

[junebugdunes]

nose kisses

[moonstruckhaze]

boyfriend shirt...

update: if you like this art, please go check out this fic that @chessala wrote for it ╥⁠﹏⁠╥

update cont: this is the first time someone's ever written something for art that I've made, and I'm still so happy and touched beyond words that she wrote this. she was even kind enough to share the initial draft with me and asked for feedback and even worked in little suggestions i had for expanding on different parts of the writing, which was so fun and collaborative and I haven't gotten to do something like that in ages. I'm so overwhelmed (in a good way) and it feels like getting to beam the full mental vision of the scenario i had in my brain while working on this piece into the mind of anyone who reads it; ;

i know these close up crops are a bit silly but well. i did my best lol... the full version is up on my alt twitter linked in my pinned post ♡

please also observe the little 🐰 logo.... it is silly & crucial....

[toji-bunny-girl]

𝙎𝙖-𝙏𝙤-𝙍𝙪

CHARACTER— yandere!gojo x fem!reader CONTENTS— yandere themes, stalking, hidden camera bear thingy, slight angst? IDKK gojo is just gross asf, noncon, intoxicated!reader, worshipping kink, DELUSIONALL‼️‼️‼️, slight fingering idk, sex yuh A/N— enjoy this masterpiece I wrote months ago (I no longer have the ability to write as good as I did) kinda weird but I literally had this dream a few days ago of a guy kidnapping me and bruising my ass with his initials 💀💀 scary asf and I remembered it hurts like a bitch anyway I have an exam later on so wish me luck 🤩 (repost)

The lustre of his eyes glimmered against the reflection of the screen, his face turning rubicund was evidence of the blood rushing underneath his cheeks. Sweat flecked across his palms, marginally soiling his pants when he rubbed his hands on them.

Your eyes stared straight into his, and he thought your orbs must be of millions of blended colours for them to glint in iridescent. The sliver of rays from the screen pierced his irises, and he swore the sight of you must be cleansing his soul.

He sucked his lips as you played with the toy bunny’s hands, and a smile reached your face before you pressed the soft toy into your chest, clutching it in your arms as you sighed something. Something that started with Sa and ended with Ru. His mind must be playing tricks on him, right? It couldn’t be that—

Then there it comes again, the cadence of your voice, the shape of your lips, and his name that you whispered. Sa-To-Ru.

The Sa whose eyes would only trail behind your wake, the To that breathed just for the air that you exhaled, and the Ru that didn’t believe God lives in heaven, because there was you, his Goddess that walked the Earth amongst the sinful humanity.

Satoru. He thought he had never loved his name even more than that moment.

But he found himself wrong—oh so wrong.

You sounded even more euphonious sprawled out before him, intoxicated with alcohol on your tongue and in your veins—not a clue about where you are and what’s going on. All you could gather was the familiar mop of silver in your foggy sight, and how the world seemed to be on vertigo.

The bits and pieces of recollections you could grasp onto in your besotted state were the hours spent drinking bottles of liquor, giggling at the charming jokes and teases from Gojo. Then the clashes of teeth and his hands on your chest, the long ride up an elevator, and stumbling onto a bed that smelled like him.

“My name…” he panted when his head rose from your jugular—marked and claimed through teeth and tongue. “Say my name,” he repeated, pressing his lips against your jaw as he took in a drag of your ambrosial scent, long fingers pumping in and out of your squeezing cunt.

You frowned, moaning into the torrid air that bubbled around the two of you and arching your back when an orgasm tumbled through, warmth pervading through your core when pleasure glitched over your body like static.

His name doesn’t read past your lips, but your groan of pleasure was enough for him to render him halcyon. Lining his painfully pulsing head to your slick entrance, the dilatory push of his fat tip into your folds made a cry ripple through both of your throats. In you he found warmth that tasted like divinity; the forbidden fruit between the thighs of his Goddess.

He didn’t dare move, afraid that your grip would tempt an orgasm in him to soil your quim with his load. His thumb drew circles upon your clit, trying to mitigate the tight clench of your cunt in the wake of your previous orgasm.

Your muscles finally relaxed in a few rubs, and he let his length ease into you, your hole still pulsing and spasming as his cock filled your insides. Gojo’s chest fluttered with rapture as he groaned for your name, almost as if he was trying to have you look at him, fully sober instead of laying crumpled on his bed.

But you don’t, your eyes remained still shut, and only the little whimpers and cries that fell off the edges of your lips denoted your senses still awake yet torpor from the inebriation.

“Please, look at me?”

You groaned when he benignly lifted your jaw, his sense of deify for you felt through his cold fingertips before his lips meld into yours. Your mouth lax open, letting his tongue taste the heaven off of yours and swallow your saliva of ambrosia down his throat.

When he withdrew from your face with a dense cloud over your heads, he found the hues of your orbs peering into his summer’s blue sky, your eyelashes fanning the heat over his cheeks. His heart jumped and paced, and he was sure you could hear his heartbeat. Could you?

“Satoru…?” you whispered. The tang of liquor blazing strongly in your system, but you still managed to recognise him. “Wha–Where are we? And wha—”

You were cut off from your words when his lips crashed into yours, and his hips began pistoning in and out of you, your moans jumbled between your dancing mouths before sizzling in the hot air. Your walls tightened around his girth as he pumped deep into you, his cock throbbing and threatening ejaculation, but he would rather abnegate himself from pleasure if you hadn’t succumbed to it.

Every stroke of his swollen head against the bump of your g-spot made you gasp and cry with the stimulation, palms desperately attempting to push the weight of the male off, but it simply came to piteous futility.

At his last stroke, your squirting cunt squeezed his cock tight and wet his pelvis, and his load began filling your inside to the brim, thick spurts of cum shooting at your cervix as you screamed his name.

The Sa who you could taste on your tongue, the To who swore you’re the lone fire to his loins, and the Ru who promised to never let your divinity step a single foot out of his door—your temple, to walk the earth soiled by sinning humans.

Satoru—the priest to your Holiness.

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Can u please do smut or fluff of this with rooster or hangman:

Y/n: hey can you zip me up?

R or H: Sure!

...

Y/n: I said zip me up not down

Ooh thank you for this sweet request, I had so much fun with this one!!

The Zipper Incident

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're running late and need some help zipping up your dress. After recovering from the initial shock of seeing you all dolled up, Rooster is more than happy to assist.

CW: Fluff, angst, swearing, a pinch of smut. You stand up your date, which is shitty of you, but it's probably worth it.

I’d like to think that this little drabble could be a prelude to this fic but it’s absolutely not a necessity to read it first. I just had this particular dynamic in mind while writing this.

You rush out of the locker room in a panic, whipping your head around to see if anyone is still around. Your date is imminent – t-minus twenty minutes and counting – and you’ve spent the last forty-five on your hair and makeup only to suffer a devastating wardrobe malfunction at zero hour.

You’re sure that everyone is long gone but you nonetheless shuffle over to the guys’ locker room on the off chance that perhaps somebody might still be in the building.

Just as you’re coming up on the door, Bradley walks out and you nearly collide with him in your haste.

“Woah!” he yells, holding his arms out in case you wouldn’t be able to stop in time.

“Oh my god, Rooster! Thank god!” you shriek.

Now that he’s had a moment to process the situation, Bradley is blinking at you oddly, his eyes slipping briefly to glance at your dress before reverting to your face.

While you’re flattered that your outfit has rendered him speechless – the guy’s never seen you in anything but a uniform – you hardly have time for this kind of delay. “Rooster, can you do me a favor, please? Can you zip me up?” You turn your back to him promptly and twist your arm behind you to point to the zipper that’s gotten stuck halfway up.

“Uh.” Bradley stalls and you look over your shoulder to see his gaze trailing down your bare back as he tentatively lifts his hands.

“Bradshaw, today!” you urge, bouncing slightly on the spot while you hold up the front of your strapless dress.

You feel his fingers graze your back as he pulls gently on the zipper. “It’s jammed,” he says a little hoarsely.

You let out an exasperated sigh. “No shit,” you reply. “Look, I’ve got a date in” – you close your eyes and whimper desperately – “fifteen minutes. Could you maybe put those big, strong muscles to good use?” You throw him a deriding look before glancing pointedly at the arm that's taking up approximately half of your field of view. His bicep is even more pronounced than usual in the tight, black t-shirt he’s wearing.

Rooster exhales slowly, tugging more deliberately on the zipper. “I don’t want to break it,” he says.

This statement gives you pause and you spin around sharply, nearly taking Bradley’s hands with you. “You can’t break it!” you exclaim. “I have nothing else to wear!”

Bradley watches you steadily. “Well,” he says with a small smirk. “Don’t rush me, then.”

You eye him warily before turning back around. “Okay,” you say. “But you don’t have all day,” you mutter when he starts to fiddle with the zipper once more.

His hands stop moving and he clears his throat. “We had a deal.”

You sigh, starting to tap your foot, when your feel his hands close around your shoulders.

“You’re wiggling,” he says.

“I’m anxious,” you retort sourly.

Bradley steps closer until his chest is brushing lightly against your back, and leads you out into the center of the corridor. “I need more light,” he says.

You close your eyes. “It’s a fucking zipper, Bradshaw. You operate a fifteen tonne, seventy-million-dollar government vehicle fifty thousand feet off the ground but this is somehow a struggle?”

Bradley’s hands stop moving. “That fifteen tonne vehicle came with an instruction manual and five years of training.”

“Oh, hang on,” you say. “Let me just pull out my zipper manual. I don’t go anywhere without that thing.”

Bradley snorts. “You’re distracting me,” he says, yanking slightly on the zipper and, in the process, pulling you closer.

You hang your head defeatedly, trying to stay still while he works to fix your dress.

After several moments of silence, Bradley speaks again. “You have a date, huh?”

You stare at the space where the floor meets the wall, taken aback by his question. You and Bradley have but a smidge of history; you met a few months ago when you were brought in for a mission together, and have since been assigned to the same squadron. You’ve flirted here and there, exchanged a few meaningful glances, but nothing more than the occasional tease has ever come to pass. You’re both professionals and, as such, are amply aware that any sort of romantic entanglement would quickly dissolve into a logistical nightmare fraught with more paperwork than either of you would care to complete. And yet, the insinuation in his tone, paired with the intermittent brush of his hands along your back sends a quiet thrill through your body, resulting in a soft blush that heats your cheeks and creeps down your neck. You nervously pat down your hair, making sure it obscures your reddening face before you respond with a casual, “Mm-hm.”

“Anyone I know?” he asks, his thumb sweeping over your shoulder blade as he takes a break from wrestling with the zipper.

Suddenly you’re extremely aware of how short your dress is and how very loosely it hangs around your sides as you clutch it to your chest. “I doubt it,” you say quickly, wondering how you hadn’t noticed the obvious draft coming from the vent overhead until right now while firmly pressing the material of your dress against your rapidly hardening nipples.

“Well, you look nice,” he says, his voice a little rough as he resumes his efforts with the zipper.

You bite down hard on your lip, trying to suppress the shiver triggered by his words. “Would be nicer if I were fully dressed,” you respond flatly.

“Debatable,” Rooster counters.

You swallow uneasily as Bradley continues jerking at your dress. He’s flirting with you now? Ten minutes till go time? After weeks of avoiding every instance of physical contact, including that time you sprained your ankle and he called Phoenix over to help you get to medical instead of taking you himself?

Suddenly, you feel the waist of your dress release as the zipper gives. You gasp, pressing the fabric against your body as it starts to glide.

“Bradshaw!” you yelp. “I said ‘zip me up!’”

“Sorry!” Bradley fumbles with the dress. “It slipped.”

“Sure,” you say with a note of cynicism in your tone.

Bradley chuckles, sliding the zipper back up. “I promise, it was unintentional.” He pauses for a moment, his fingers still holding the clasp even after having completed the task you’ve given him. He runs his palms along your shoulders before they come to rest on your upper arms. “You’ve got a nice back,” he says quietly.

You freeze, trying to come up with an adequate response to the most unexpected of compliments, but you can’t bring yourself to face him because you’re blushing anew. You take a second to gather your thoughts, close your eyes to savour the moment. You’ve completely forgotten about the time and how much of it you might have left because all your concentration is devoted entirely to the gentle sweep of Bradley’s fingers as they slide down your arms.

“First date?” he asks.

You’re furious. You’re livid. Where was all this attention four weeks ago when all that glorious flirting amounted to absolutely nothing. “Second,” you respond curtly.

“Getting serious,” he says wryly, his hands trailing all the way down to your fingertips before they finally fall to his sides.

You chuckle and, although it’s becoming increasingly difficult to restrain yourself from turning to face him, you mutter a quick, “Thanks, Rooster,” while smoothing out the wrinkles on the front of your dress.

Bradley walks around to take a look at you from the front and now you have no choice but to meet his gaze. You give him a tight smile and do a little curtsy and he laughs, shaking his head.

“That’s a hell of a dress,” he says.

You give him a serious look. “It’s not the dress, Bradshaw. It’s the model.”

He grins at you in amusement. “Can’t argue with that.”

You nod slowly, slightly lost in his eyes, when you suddenly remember that you’re running late. “Shit! What’s the time?” You lunge forward to grab his forearm so that you could check his wristwatch. “Fuck! I have to run!”

You drop Bradley’s hand, glancing up at him sharply. He’s watching you with a bewildered expression, as though he wasn’t expecting you to actually leave. “Okay,” he says. “Have a good time.”

You nod and start to draw back, finally turning and escaping down the hall and into the women’s changeroom. Once the door is closed behind you, you sink down on a bench, bringing a hand to your unsettled stomach. The interaction with Bradley has resulted in a revival of that ridiculous crush you had on him when you first arrived on base. You’ve been fairly successful at quashing those feelings, right up until ten minutes ago when Bradley was able to effectively resuscitate them with a vengeance.

You let out a frustrated sigh and start putting away your belongings. You step into your heels and sit back down to do up the straps. Walking over to the mirror, you fix your hair and take a moment to admire your makeup. No wonder Bradley was flabbergasted. He’s never even seen you wear lipstick.

You pick up your purse after shoving your backpack into a locker and head for the door but, when you walk out, Bradley is still there, waiting for you.

You waver on the spot upon seeing him while he hesitates slightly before approaching you. His eyes rake over your figure before finally resting on your face. “I can’t let you go on that date,” he says, his rasp more pronounced somehow, perhaps because he’s trying to keep his voice down.

You gulp nervously, blinking up at him as your cheeks flush. “Why not?” you ask quietly.

Bradley bites into his bottom lip as the corner of his mouth curls upward mischievously. “Because even thinking about you on a date with someone else is making me angry.”

You let out a shallow breath as his eyes focus briefly on your lips. “Why?” you whisper.

You feel Bradley’s hand cup your waist, pressing you gently into the wall at your back while he takes another step forward. He lowers his head and you lift your gaze as he towers over you, as he places the palm of his other hand on the wall behind your head. His breathing is heavier than usual but he comes closer still, caging you in. “Because it should be me,” he says hoarsely.

You lower your gaze but soon feel his fingers under your chin, lifting your face to look at him. “You didn’t ask me,” you manage to say despite the distracting pounding in your temples. “Are you only interested because I’m unavailable?”

Bradley slowly shakes his head, bringing his forehead to rest on yours. The hand that’s been leaning against the wall slips down to your shoulder as he takes another step closer and his body brushes yours. “You know that’s not true,” he says.

You put a hand on his abdomen, pushing him away half-heartedly. “I know that you’ve had plenty of opportunities to make this happen and chose not to.”

Bradley brings his hand down on top of yours on his stomach. “Maybe I was intimidated,” he mutters with a grin.

You roll your eyes. “Am I less intimidating in a dress?”

He shakes his head, his smile widening. “More.” His fingers close around yours, still pressed against his rock-hard abs. “But you left me no choice. I had to just bite the bullet and go for it.”

You glance up at him reproachfully. “I’m late,” you say.

Bradley pulls his lips into a frown as his eyebrows crease. “Stay,” he pleads.

You scoff, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, Bradley,” you say. “You’re late too.” You start to peel your back from the wall, forcing him to back away from you.

He takes several steps backward, the disappointment evident on his face. “You don’t want to go,” he says quietly.

You raise your eyebrows. “How the fuck do you know what I want?” you ask, offended.

He watches you piercingly. “I can tell you want to stay.”

“If you can tell, then why didn’t you ask me out before?” you say angrily.

“Because I’m an idiot!” he responds heatedly.

“Well, at least we agree on that,” you say.

Bradley sucks in his cheeks, nodding contemptuously. “Now what?” he asks. “Ball’s in your court.”

You stare at him crossly. “Now nothing, Bradley,” you say. “You didn’t start anything because you knew that it would be a conflict of interest. That, if anybody found out, one of us would end up being reassigned.”

“Who has to find out?”

You close your eyes briefly before giving him a withering look. “Well, now we know where your head’s at.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You just want to fuck,” you say matter-of-factly.

Bradley stares at you, speechless for a moment. “What are you talking about?”

���Sorry, Bradshaw,” you say. “That’s not my style.”

But when you turn to leave, Bradley springs after you, grabbing your arm and pulling you back around. “You’ve got it wrong,” he says. “I promise you.”

You eye his fingers, still wrapped firmly around your arm. “Come on, ‘Nobody has to know?’” You glance up at him disdainfully. “You obviously don’t see a future here.” You regret the words the moment they leave your mouth, recognizing how unreasonable it is to expect him to see much of anything with someone he hardly knows. But his words have caused quite a sting which, in turn, has made you slightly irrational. “You know this is a bad idea,” you say finally, reluctantly.

Bradley takes a step forward, simultaneously pulling you closer. He takes a moment to study your features before speaking. “I know that if you go on your date right now, I’m going to lose my fucking mind,” he says with a small chuckle.

You watch him carefully as he brings a hand up to brush some hair away from your eyes. “I’m really late,” you whisper, your hands moving of their own accord to rest on his hips.

Bradley brings his face down to meet yours, his nose brushing along your cheek. “I really want you to stay,” he says in a low voice, his grip loosening on your arm and his fingers gliding gently up to your shoulder.

You lift your face slightly to let him brush his lips with yours. After an excruciating pause during which his mouth hovers tantalisingly over yours, Bradley finally bridges the gap, confidently capturing your lips in his. His fingertips dig into your shoulders as he presses his body against yours, directing you backward into the wall. He leans into you eagerly, his kiss overriding each of your senses as you adapt to its unpredictable rhythm. Slow and deep, then soft and sweeping, evolving with your every movement. His hands twist rabidly into your hair, rough but restrained as he paces himself while you breathe unevenly against his mouth.

He's warm; swathed around you almost possessively; protectively. You aren’t going anywhere anytime soon. You pant when he finally releases your lips, struggling to steady your heartrate.

Bradley lowers himself slightly to diffuse kisses along your jawline, the pressure of his lips on your skin quickly escalating as the two of you sink into one another. You open your mouth to sigh against his ear when his hand slips underneath the hem of your dress. “Bradley,” you whine as his finger drifts along the line of your panties.

“Yeah baby?” he breathes, his finger tracing circles into the already saturated lace.

“This is a terrible idea,” you whimper as the most torturous desire pulsates through your body.

“Yeah, baby,” Bradley agrees, continuing the gentle strokes of his finger over your soaking panties.

You bite your lip trying to suppress a moan, fevered and nearly shaking, sweating and breathless, unsteady in your heels. You feel transported but unsettled, euphoric but wanting. You nip at Bradley’s earlobe in response to which Bradley presses his mouth into the crook of your neck and releases a muffled groan. You continue sucking on his ear and kissing his neck and the hand that’s been hovering between your legs suddenly grips into your thigh. You let out a soft cry and Bradley stifles it with a passionate kiss. His hand coasts upward, cupping your ass cheek as he presses himself against you, pinning you to the wall. “Bradshaw,” you murmur against his lips. “Can you do me a favor?”

Bradley’s teeth catch your bottom lip before he starts gently pecking your swollen lips. “Anything,” he responds in his grating rasp.

You let out a shallow breath. “Can you unzip me?”

Bradley’s mouth curls into a smile against your lips as his hand glides down your back. “I’ve got you, baby,” he says softly, pulling on the zipper. “I’m an expert.” You chuckle as your dress comes loose but, a moment later, Bradley mutters, “Fuck,” right into your open mouth.

You pull back to stare at him mutely as he gives the zipper a few more tugs. “Don’t tell me,” you say in disbelief.

“What is it with this thing?” Bradley says in exasperation, spinning you around to inspect the contraption. You giggle, resting your forehead on the wall resignedly but, the next moment, Bradley grabs you by the waist and pulls you in. “Fuck it,” he says, lifting the skirt of your dress. “I can work around it.”

Rooster Tag List:

Please feel free to let me know if you no longer wish to be tagged in Rooster fics/if you no longer consume Rooster content <3 The rest of the tags are in the comments!

@simp-for-fictional-people

@ollyoxenfrees

@iamabeautifulperson18

@living-in-my-imagination88

@wintercap89

@mavrellover91

@gingerbreadandpaper

@lonelywitchv2

@cashwheelersgirl89

@callsign-jupiter

@kindablackenedsuperhero

@everything-i-love-in-life

@malindacath

@rosiahills22

@wandering-wah

@olliepig

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@emilyniamh3679-blog

@footwatter

@books-for-summer

@harper1666

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@diabeticgoth

@katiebby04

@problematic-420

@wishfulhope

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@inarabee

@boringusername3

@zombiedixon89

@izz-ayes-world

@ratedtvpg

@mak-32

@sunnysofia

@a-nostalgic-disaster

@aaliyahjovel

@anyonehaveanyorangeslices

@bcon24

@lovemesomevesey

@daydreamingalways

@gerudolivinliv

@emilybradshaw

@olivethenerd16

@kaitlynw011

@l-rexter45

@xoxo-lyss

@beebslebobs

@dracosluvbot

@peoniarose

@annedub

[sinkovia]

Black Market

Hitman Simon Riley x Doctor Fem!Reader

In desperate need of money to clear a million-dollar debt, you accept Simon's offer to become his personal doctor, earning twenty percent of each contract he completes. But as you plunge back into the black market, ghosts from your past emerge, threatening to unravel everything you've worked so hard to run away from.

Mention of Kidnapping.

Masterlist - Black Market Masterlist

Simon sat in his dimly lit house, the dim glow of his computer screen casting shadows across his face. He leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping impatiently on the keyboard as he navigated through the depths of the black market.

His eyes scanned the screen, brows furrowing in frustration as he scrolled through the listings, weighing the risks against the potential rewards. Contract after contract flashed before him, each promising a hefty sum of money in exchange for services rendered.

But to Simon, they were all the same—assassinations, espionage, sabotage. The thrill of danger had lost its appeal long ago, replaced by a sense of weariness and disillusionment.

Cursing under his breath, Simon scrolled through the listings for hire, his frustration growing with each passing moment. There were no personal black market doctors available for hire—every reputable one was already taken. It seemed like luck was against him today.

With a heavy sigh, he closed the browser window and turned his attention to the stack of mail sitting on his desk. Among the bills and junk mail, there it was – a jury duty summons.

He groaned aloud, rubbing his temples in frustration. Spending hours in a stuffy courtroom was the last thing he needed right now. It meant taking time away from his work, time that could be spent securing lucrative contracts and staying ahead of the game.

But there was no avoiding it. He knew he'd have to fulfill his civic duty, no matter how inconvenient it might be. With a resigned shake of his head, he tucked the summons into his pocket, another burden to add to the weight on his shoulders.

You find yourself slumping down on the hard concrete steps in front of the courthouse, the weight of defeat heavy upon you. Having lost your case and now facing a million dollars in debt, the world seems to close in around you. With a resigned sigh, you reach for your pack of cigarettes, seeking solace in the familiar routine.

"Mind sharing your pack?" A deep, coarse voice breaks through your thoughts, and you glance over to see a tall man dressed in black leaning against the railing beside you. Without hesitation, you extend your pack to him, and he takes one before returning the pack to you.

Simon curses to himself, realizing he's forgotten his lighter, confiscated earlier by a courthouse officer. "Mind lighting me? Fuckers at the courthouse took my light," he grumbles, frustration evident in his voice.

You smiled and handed him your lighter, the flame casting a warm glow on his face as he lit his cigarette. "Jury duty?" you asked casually, observing him take a deep drag before exhaling a cloud of smoke.

"Yeah, you?" he replied, his tone resigned but with a hint of intrigue.

You laughed wryly and took another drag, the bitter taste of nicotine mingling with the heavy weight of your circumstances. "Just got sued for a million fucking dollars."

"Bloody fuck, what did you do?" Simon's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his interest immediately piqued.

You couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "I replaced a man’s heart with a pig heart," you confessed, fully aware of how crazy it sounded.

Simon's eyes widened in intrigue, and without hesitation, he walked over and sat down next to you, his curiosity now fully ignited. Knowing how to perform a heart transplant suggested a level of medical expertise that interested him. 

"And how the bloody hell did you do that?" he asked, his curiosity evident in his voice.

“I was just sitting at the intersection for ages waiting for the light to change, when I noticed a guy getting mugged. Without thinking, I grabbed my emergency kit from the car and rushed over. Since I have O negative blood, I used my own blood for a transfusion to stabilize him. Then, I spotted a truck nearby loaded with pigs. I didn't waste a second - I hopped in, grabbed a pig, and performed an open heart surgery right there on the sidewalk. Sure, the guy ended up with a pig heart, but he's alive because of it. And now he's suing me? Unbelievable. Should've left that fuck to die.”

Simon couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all, but beneath the laughter, a plan began to form in his mind.

"So he was standing in the courtroom with a pig's heart?" 

You shook your head, a wry smile playing on your lips. "No, he ended up getting a proper heart transplant. One that would never have happened if I hadn't stepped in. The bastard would've bled out and wasted all my blood before the paramedics even arrived."

"Are you a licensed doctor?” 

Open heart surgery on a sidewalk and having O-negative blood? You were better than any doctor he could hire on the black market.

You shrugged nonchalantly. "No, I had my license revoked a few years back. They said my practice and way of thinking were unconventional, that I should be working in a lab making more Frankenstein’s than helping people. I took it as a compliment though. Those doctors were just scared of what I could do, of how far I would go to save someone." 

Simon smiled and took another drag before smashing the cigarette on the floor under his boot.

"So you're looking for jobs?"

You sighed, mirroring his action with your own cigarette. "In desperate need for a job."

"I think we could help each other," Simon suggested, his tone shifting slightly.

You slowly side-eyed him, then awkwardly laughed as you leaned away. "I'm not looking for jobs like that."

Simon's eyebrow quirked up before he realized how he sounded, and he shook his head with a smile. "Not like that, love. I meant that you could work for me, and I'd pay you."

You relaxed a bit and leaned back, intrigued. "What do you do?"

"Let's just say, you stay with me as my personal doctor, and I pay you twenty percent after each job I complete. You'll have your money in a couple of months," 

"A million dollars in a couple of months? What kind of jobs are giving you that type of money-" realization dawned on you, and a chill ran down your spine. Simon was involved in something much darker than you anticipated, and memories of your own past involvements in the black market came flooding back, making your palms sweat with unease.

"I'm sorry, but I can't take your offer," you said, your voice firm but polite. Simon furrowed his brows in confusion and frustration. He had just given you an opportunity of a lifetime, one you so desperately needed, and you turned him down?

Internally sighing, Simon knew he'd have to resort to more extreme measures now.

You got up and dusted off your butt before looking down at him. "Thank you for the offer, but I'm going to head out," you said, offering a weak smile before turning and heading to your car.

That night, Simon tracked down where you lived and noted your home address. He packed his duffle bag and got into his car, making his way over to your house. With careful precision, he snuck into your backyard and opened your back window before silently slipping inside.

Meanwhile, you were sitting at your desk, scrolling through job offerings in your pajamas, feeling the weight of impending debt pressing down on you. With a heavy sigh, you turned off your monitor, resigned to your fate. That's when you noticed it—the faint outline of a man in the dark reflection of your monitor screen.

Simon attempted to cover your mouth with a rag, but you reacted swiftly, elbowing him hard and knocking the wind out of him. Turning around, you landed a solid punch to his jaw, leaving Simon in disbelief. He had underestimated you.

As you ran, trying to reach your room, Simon quickly pinned you to the floor. Despite your resistance, he managed to overpower you, but you fought back fiercely, headbutting him in the face. Simon grunted, trying his best not to harm you.

You nearly reached your nightstand where you kept your gun, but Simon pinned you down again, this time on your stomach. Desperately, you struggled against him, but Simon pressed a rag against your mouth and nose, forcing you to inhale its contents. Despite your efforts to resist, you eventually succumbed to the effects, your body going limp in a matter of seconds.

Simon breathed deeply as he stood up, his chest heaving with exertion. Opening your nightstand, he retrieved your gun with a heavy sigh. "Bloody hell, love," 

Simon headed to the bathroom in search of your medical supplies. Finding what he needed, he grabbed a trash bag and hastily gathered a few of your clothes and essential items. With a sense of urgency, he tied up the bag and threw it over his shoulder, carefully picking you up and carrying you to his car.

Tag list: @shinchanboi @talooolaaloolla

[whimsymanaged]

FirstPrince Falling in Love 100 Different Ways (4/100)

OKAY, SO. What's different about this one is that I really want to expand it into a oneshot or a multichap? Super open to any ideas or things you'd want to see if this becomes a thing.

It's not actually nsfw but like, there are some nsfw words in it so I'm putting it below the cut.

----------

“Precome already? Doesn’t seem likely.”

Henry clicks out of the Google Doc so vigorously that he almost bruises his finger. His heart is absolutely jackhammering as he whips around to face the owner of the drawling American accent. He’s sure his face is flaming red. “I beg your pardon. I believe I was minding my own business.”

“Oh, I don’t have that problem,” the ridiculously attractive man says, sliding into the empty seat beside Henry as if they know each other. Henry’s rendered momentarily speechless by the man’s inky black curls, ethereal eyelashes, and bright, open expression. That, and the fact that he’s just read the very explicit smut Henry was writing over his shoulder. The man points at Henry’s screen even though the smut is now thankfully out of view. “I’m just saying, if you’re trying to make it realistic…”

“Well, seeing as it’s a story set in the omegaverse where human males can go into heat, I don’t think that’s quite necessary.” Oh, God. Henry doesn’t know why he offered up that information, but the man’s face positively lights up.

“Hell, yeah! Sign me up for A/B/O fic.” The man sticks his hand out eagerly. “I’m Alex.”

“Henry.” Henry shakes Alex’s hand, his brain struggling to keep up. What on Earth is happening right now? “It’s, er, not a fic, actually. I’m writing a novel.”

Alex leans closer, eyes wide. “You’re gonna bring the omegaverse mainstream? Nice. Can I help?”

Henry blinks. “Help?”

“I write, too,” Alex says as if that explains everything. He scoots in so close that his jean-clad thigh presses against Henry’s. Christ, Henry has completely lost control of the situation. “I just hit a million words on AO3. I have, like, an average of 1k kudos per fic. I’m good, I promise.”

“That’s all very impressive, but why do you want to write with me? We just met two minutes ago,” Henry points out weakly. He feels like he should lean away from Alex, but unfortunately, he doesn’t want to. Not only does Alex smell amazing, but his thigh feels strong and warm against Henry’s, and honestly, Henry can’t be blamed for feeling this desperate when he’s just spent the past hour writing smut, alright? If anything, this is probably a side effect of the content that's been filling his brain.

“Because I stood behind you for, like, five minutes reading, and your writing’s amazing,” Alex says, then adds, “Aside from the whole premature precome thing, obviously.”

“Right. Well…” Henry’s caught between mortification and indignation. He can either end this conversation right now or invite the beautiful man to keep talking to him. 

The decision really doesn’t take more than a split second of thought.

Henry navigates back to the Google doc, letting it fill the screen in all its incredibly horny glory. He spots at least three instances of “cock,” two of “moaned,” and one of “thick blurt of precome appearing on the tip,” and he forces himself to jut his chin out and meet Alex’s eyes.

“Thoughts?” Henry prompts.

Alex’s grin as he reaches for the keyboard is absolutely wicked.

[quohotos]

I present to you, my Magnum Opus. The Underland Chronicles rendered in the style of an early 2000s flash based point and click adventure game (the MNOG)

I have spent so long on this. Inkscape doesn't log total project time the way Krita does, but it's the most time I've spent on any single piece of vector art. Even then there's still a million things I want to go in and change but... aaaaaa you have to cut it off somewhere. I have been copy pasting rats for hours, and don't even get me started on the shadows. The shadows look good, they are not physically accurate. I tried.

Here are some bonus features!

No text overlay. Clean if you want to print it or make it a desktop background.

Close up on Solovet and Ajax I've never actually drawn Solovet, or any underlanders really. I definitely am phoning it in by framing her from behind. When it came to designing what kind of armor they'd wear I took inspiration from both Greek and Roman designs. Ajax was originally much more saturated red until @paksenarrion-dorthansdotter corrected me. The books describe him as dried blood colored. (please don't look too close at the rats they don't hold up to scrutiny)

Close up on Ripred. He looks just a little bit small and fat in this one, but that's just because he's slouching. When he stands up it all stays in his hips and ass. I always draw Ripred like he appeared on my cover of Code of Claw. The scar on his face isn't really visible from this angle because it cuts left to right and he's looking left.

Lastly, here's Gregor and Ares. There is an official design for his armor as seen on the cover of my copy of Code of Claw. I redesigned it because I thought that version looked kinda pants, tbh. Little goofy and hard to take seriously.

The great thing about vector art is you can zoom in and obsess over tiny little details that end up only being like 4 pixels wide in the final export. Case in point, these rando flyers. Such minute detail that gets flattened out to a single pixel in some cases.

Sidenote: I always imagined the flyers as more microbat inspired, which is why I draw them with tails... but these ones end up looking very flying fox-like and have also some megabat proportions. This isn't really an intentional artistic choice, it's just a compromise I had to strike to make them look decent. I need to practice drawing microbats more.

Oh well. The author isn't that descriptive about their proportions so I guess it's up to interpretation.

Lastly, here's the original sketch that I traced over. A lot of features ultimately got cut, as well as the dimensions to the side being changed. Solovet originally was going to have a braid but then I remembered that line from the first book where Luxa explains that you have to cut your hair to go to war. Ripred also looked a lot more teddy bear like in the sketch, so I ended up not even tracing him. Bane was a redraw, and I actually did trace part of Ajax and then just frehanded the rest.

If anyone is reading this far and hasn't read the underland Chronicles, now is a great time to go to your local library and pick it up. These books slap and this tiny community would love to suffer our brainrot welcome you into our fold.

Fly You High

[emberwritesinsight]

I SPENT ACTUAL HOURS MAKING THIS THING AND I HAD TO DOWNLOAD FFMPEG (and fuss around with it a lot and honestly I could not tell you how to do what I did) JUST TO RENDER THE DAMN THING SO I COULD UPLOAD IT TO ALL OF YOU. YOU'RE WELCOME. NOW THAT I'VE TRIED ANIMATING FIRSTHAND I THINK EVERY PROFESSIONAL ANIMATOR SHOULD MAKE ONE MILLION DOLLARS PER HOUR

[freebooter4ever]

Hi I wonder

If/when you finish Geno’s sculpture will you be able to program it to move? Like animation?

I’m not familiar with 3d modeling

this is a very good question, actually! cause the easy answer is yes, absolutely. the more complicated answer is that the topology i've modeled is optimized for sculpture rather than animation, so to turn it into an animated character and get clean movement i would have to make some modifications around the sections that deform the most (shoulders, elbows, knees, etc). brief lunchtime course in topology under the cut :)

the topology or 'wireframe' of a character represents the polygons. and each polygon is defined by vertices which are the actual coordinates stored in the computer that tells it to render these objects!

on the left is the sculpt that im working on, and on the right is the 'smoothed' version where the computer calculates a curved spline between points instead of a flat polygon (with certain specific case like where i've told it to 'crease' edges which will keep the sharp polygon line).

My goal in this sculpt (like the skate and the helmet and the gear) was to keep polycount as low as possible to give myself the cleanest lines in a way similar to how i process drawings. This means i have large shapes with as few polygons as i can get away with, so there's certain areas that have very very few polygons entirely. The biggest example of this is the back and the shoulder/arm connection:

if i were topologizing this for animation the 'wireframe' lines would be concentrated where deformation happens. So when I raise the arm the shoulder would have enough geo to stay defined and smooth instead of stretching. right now if i bent his elbow it would cause this problem. luckily, im only planning to bend his elbow for a few poses in a final sculpt - so when i finish with the pose i will go back in and add whatever extra geo is necessary.

anyway the purpose of my sculpting with as little polygons as i can is to keep the silhouette as well as keeping it as clean as possible so that it'll look good in toon shaders. (you can see the 'active points' is under 4k' in the corner there)

the best example i have of this is the face which is absolutely not done so dont judge me but its finally at a point where it doesnt look too terrifying:

on the right is the quick sculpt i did just to get a feel for his face in 3D - this was done with clay sculpting and you can see even though i used the hard surface brush its made up of millions of little vertices so doesn't have that 'clean' look. the goal is to make the gray spaces between as flat as possible to make that toon 2D look in 3D. :)

my face topology is based off which lines i want to 'show' as my 'drawing' lines and wouldn't necessarily result in good animation. geno's lips are driving me crazy - i have so many photos and still they aren't good enough. there's that bow shape on his bottom lip that i'm trying to recreate in geo and its slow going. i take a break from whatever apps or shit im working on, tinker with his lip shape for a half hour, and then go back to working lol.

here's an example of a hard surface object which doesn't deform (because if a helmet squishes thats....thats probably a very bad sign for the player) and so can be as high res as i want it to be to get the level of detail i want:

why am i doing all this? i dunno im crazy. sometime in october a character artist from a big name studio told me my portfolio needed to reflect their 'style' more if i wanted to be hired there and my reaction was well fuck this im figuring out what my OWN style looks like in 3D. probably not the smartest career move. (ive spent 10 years in this industry and i have been a chameleon the entire time blending into everyone else's style. if im spending my own money on this i want it to be mine)

but, going back to the original question, my vision back in october was a beauty sculpt of geno in some action shot - on the ice with the puck or celly. and the sculpt would be crisp and clean and lit with sharp angular lights like how i draw (getting his cheekbone right is a must and makes me cry). and on a turntable. so thats the goal, no animation necessary, and its looking like i might get there in the next month. :)

the, uh, torso sculpt is cause i want to do an extra pose of him looking sexy in his locker stall with his armor gear and shit (pants ON though, you can see i have not sculpted past the waist :P). thats just for me lmao.

[magpie-trinkets]

I hate what AI art has done to my enjoyment of art. I also hate AI art for multiple other reasons, but that is one of them.

Now instead of enjoying a piece for composition or colour or plain just "this looks pretty" I am instantly suspicious. Sus, one might say. I go through the piece with a fine toothed comb. Is there an inconsistent detail? A mistake a human wouldn't make so far in the process? A weird hand?

Most of AI art trying to pass as art (that I've seen) is heavily rendered, meaning a real artist should've spent hours or days on that thing, chipping away, seeing the piece, which means more opportunities to correct mistakes made in sketch or any other part of the process; it also implies that the artist has some experience and skill, and knowledge of their medium. Art tools, references, etc. Whether you like or dislike their style, their designs or concepts is another matter entirely. This is pure art analysis.

Let's expand:

- Inconsistent details: This is not "this comic artist forgot to copy a detail from panel to panel". This is forgetting bilateral symmetry. This is having fish from the same species have different fin placement. This is weird windows in a normal building, this is breaking a pattern up for no discernible reason. This is a line not connecting with another. This is a detail that shouldn't be there, be there. The AI is good at replicating how something looks, but is bad at paying attention to concepts in the foundation, and it shows with these little details. Concepts that are easily understood by humans by just looking at references and doing sketches.

- A mistake/uncanny wrongness: when you look at a piece for so long, at the same time your back suffers from the unhealthy posture you torture it with, you start seeing mistakes, or things you want to change, or improve, or remove. Like "that pose could be better" or "I forgot this in the background", or "this colour doesn't look good", or "this pattern is too concentrated, I'd better space this element out". An AI doesn't have observational skills or these thought processes. It's also hilariously bad at replicating text. If something feels uncanny, I have to think "did a human make this decision?" or "is the anatomy even correct? the perspective? the colours? the fucking text? it's the fucking text isn't it."

I would offer more specific examples of these, but I try to avoid AI art the second I feel the uncanny wrongness, I have the tag filtered. Once a detail is wrong in a wrong way (I'm not talking an artist accidentally drawing two right hands, I'm talking fingers coming out of fingers) I start to see other mistakes or uncanny decisions. It boils down to the little details.

AI is "trained" (stealing, copying) on multiple other pieces of art. But it copies without understanding. When an artist copies they're trying to understand, they are studying what they copy, and usually they are appreciating what they study. That's why they're called "studies", and they're often properly credited. When they borrow another's style (like Rembrandt) people often say "drawn in a Rembrandt style". AI doesn't do studies, doesn't understand, doesn't credit the thousands of artworks they've stolen from. Because it's thousands, millions. If you tell an AI to generate a painting in a Rembrandt style, you bet your ass the AI is using Rembrandt AND thousand other pieces from different people. But the person posting the AI art says "piece from X AI software in a Rembrandt style!", and that's even if they disclose that it's AI. They don't know which pieces and which artists have been stolen from for that piece. Hey, maybe the AI didn't even copy real Rembrandt pieces. Maybe it's not even Rembrandt style.

I am no longer able to enjoy heavily-rendered, semi-realistic pieces. And the moment AI art encroaches on other styles, we're fucked. Suspicion is such a killjoy, a party shitter and pooper. I hate feeling suspicion every time I see a piece, and I hate feeling right even more.

There's no soul behind AI art. There's no effort or skill. There's no "hours and hours of practicing hand poses". There's no observation. There's no appreciation. There's no intention. There's no love. There's only greed.

[springautumn]

𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐲𝐨𝐧

Eddie Munson x Reader

part one | part two

Summary: Never in a million years did you see this happening, nor did you want this to happen. But the breakdown was inevitable. (aka break up sex)

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; smut; p in v sex (unprotected); consensual sex (Reader is 18 and Eddie is 20); fingering; angst; hurt/no comfort

A/N: I rewatched Skam (original Norway) and the Eva/Jonas breakup scene had me bawling! (Repost since it didn't show up in the tags the first time)

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Everything was perfect. You never knew happiness like this – the kind of warmth that bloomed inside and filled your tummy with butterflies. You felt it every time you were with him.

When you spent your days at Lover’s Lake, dancing to the songs playing from the van’s radio. When you spent your nights lying in bed with him and laughing at his jokes. When you spent pretty much every day with Eddie, when he smiled that infectious smile.

But this feeling was indescribable. It felt like agony, like your blood was churning and sucking every thought, every feeling and every word into a black hole, burning through your body and leaving a giant scab where your heart was supposed to be.

For Eddie, the feeling was different. He knew what heartbreak felt like and it was fucking terrible. It felt like he was stood frozen, unable to move no matter how much his mind was screaming at him to, rendering himself helpless until hours later, when his anger would rip him apart.

Right now, as you stood a few steps away from each other, you both felt this awful feeling in your own ways, the short distance between you now an island.

You both knew this was coming one way or another. You both came into this relationship with no experience, yet that never mattered. The love you had for each other was bigger than that, pouring out of you in waves, flooding your time together with bliss. Soon enough, you realised it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows.

No matter how safe and loved you felt when you were with him, you could feel Eddie slipping away. You began to spend less time together- from every day to once a week to maybe twice a month. When you did spend time together, it didn’t feel the same anymore.

The less time you spent together, the more your insecurities came to the surface. You worried he had found someone else, someone better than you, someone more like him. Likewise, Eddie felt he was not worthy of you. He thought you would soon escape the clutches of the small town that was Hawkins, ready to leave him behind after graduation and move onto greater pastures.

You were afraid that bringing the bad stuff to the surface would taint the good. So, you buried your feeling, choosing to ignore the problem and spend time with Eddie like you had before. With that, Eddie’s worries drifted away, finding himself back into his halcyon with you- he thought that since you stayed, nothing was wrong.

You stayed with him because no one could make you feel as happy as Eddie could. You chose to focus on the good rather than the bad, thinking that with time, it will all go away.

It was never going to be just good. That nagging feeling started to grow in the pit of your stomach, building and building, slowly at a snail’s pace. Nothing had changed- you were both stuck on a bridge where neither of you budged until it was too large for you to ignore. That was when it hit you – unless the both of you fixed it, this wasn’t going to work anymore.

But that was the problem – neither of you knew how.

And you told him so, stood at his desk while Eddie sat on his bed, his eyes jetting across the floor as he processed his words.

Deep down, a part of him agreed with you. He loved you and he knew you loved him too. He also knew he loved you so much that he was willing to do anything to save the relationship. He would change; he would learn to until his body bled.

He was about to argue as much, plead his case until he made the mistake of looking at you. His words died on his tongue at the sight of your tears, taking in your hunched stance to your bruising grip on the table behind you. This was eating at you on the inside.

He made a promise to you right from the beginning that he would never hurt you. But he broke that promise without even meaning to, making him feel a thousand times more shattered than he felt five seconds ago.

Eddie’s lips trembled. Blinking away the sting of tears, he stood up, slowly approaching you until the breadth of distance between you closed and you had to crane your neck to look him in the eye. He cupped your cheek with a shaky had, his thumb gently wiping away your tears that trickled down your face. You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes when you felt his noise tenderly brushing against yours.

Eddie closed the remaining distance between you, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. With a small, sharp inhale, you kissed him back without hesitation, melting into each sweet kiss after the next. You moved together, Eddie’s arms weaving around your waist and your hands cradling the back of his neck, gripping each other like a lifeline, desperate to cling to what you had before it was all gone.

His tongue ran over your bottom lip, prying your lips apart as he licked into your mouth. You sank into the intense need to feel him, moving together as the languid kisses turned ravenous and more desperate.

This was a bad idea. But you needed this. After God knows how long, you needed this and Eddie knew – somehow, he always knew.

Your fingers dug into Eddie’s hair, gently moving up until you were scratching his scalp as he pulled away from him to catch your breath. Eddie didn’t let you go far, nose-to-nose with him, his eyes burning into yours, gazing at you in clear sadness before something in his eyes changed.

You held onto him tight when he lifted you, turning to his bed and reaching behind you with one hand, removing the covers and setting you down on your back. He lifted his shirt off before he leaned down, crawling until his face hovered over yours, resuming his kisses, slow and earth-shattering.

You felt like you were floating, all the thoughts in your head drifting away the moment you gave in. Nothing else mattered, just Eddie’s lips slotting over yours, kissing you over and over as if he couldn’t get enough of your taste.

His hands wandered up and down your sides, tugging your shirt up until was completely lifted off you. The goosebumps that rose from the cool air was soon replaced with the warmth that radiated from Eddie, his body flush against yours.

You let out a whimper when Eddie dropped a chaste kiss on your neck, moving to kiss down your body. He stopped when he reached the waistband of your jeans, looking up at you to see the same unreadable expression in your feature. You both knew that if he went further down, you would slip back into his arms and never leave, starting the cycle all over again. He couldn’t do that to you, not when you were so close to escaping the trap.

Eddie couldn’t look at you without caving. The sight of your face in bliss would send him over the edge, rip his heart open until he begged you to stay – but he still had some pride in him. Quickly unbuttoning your jeans and pulling them off your legs, Eddie then moved up and buried his head in your chest, kissing and sucking the exposed skin above your bra.

You forgot how to breathe, the background fading into white noise. You could feel yourself slowly slipping away from your scattered thoughts, until all that you could focus on was the feeling of Eddie’s lips on your skin, the feeling of his rings gently pressing into your thighs as Eddie’s hand wandered up to your underwear.

His hand slipped underneath the damp garment. You let out a gasp when he pushed his calloused finger inside you, stopping when he was two knuckles deep, sliding in and out with ease.  

Your head lulled back onto the soft pillows, gasping for breath as Eddie worked his finger in and out, your legs beginning to tremble as the warm pleasure built in your core. Eddie pulled down your bra, immediately laving his tongue across your sensitive nipple.

Your hands closed around his biceps, fingers digging crescents in his skin when Eddie sunk a second finger inside, a cry escaping you at the tight sensation. He held you in place with a hand on your hip as you writhed on the bed, working a steady rhythm with his fingers.

He knew when you were reaching the end. He memorised your tells from experience, so he pushed even further, curling his fingers to meet your sweet spot, letting out a groan against your chest when you clenched around his fingers, your gasps turning into moans and whimpers. Moments later, you opened your mouth in a silent scream, letting out moans as your orgasm washed over you, body trembling as the pleasure filled you.

Eddie pulled himself free and lifted to his knees, his slick-covered fingers travelling down your stomach, slowly caressing your skin as if it was a work of art. He pulled your underwear off, groaning when he saw your wet pussy, the slick on your thighs.

You let out a soft hum, your body relaxing against the bed as you came down from your high, reaching for Eddie when he leaned back over you, his chest meeting your bare breasts. Your hands dropped down to his belt buckle, hurriedly taking the belt off and pushing his jeans down until they were off entirely.

You wonder what it would be like to kiss Eddie now. Should you kiss him now? Would it be a gentle kiss or would it be heated, passionate? You cupped his cheek, running your thumb gently against his full lips, unable to tear your gaze away from his.

Eddie watched you for a moment before he dipped down to your neck, trailing hot kisses down the side, taking off his boxers. He needed to feel you fall apart under him, wanting this to last forever, wanting to leave his imprint on you.

He eased himself inside, pushing in slowly to the hilt, both of you letting out sighs. It had been too long. His hand stroked your thigh, encouraging you to wrap a leg around his waist as he thrust in, starting at a steady rhythm while his kisses on your neck grew fiercer.

You moved together, his thrusts deep as you rolled your hips to meet his, your hands mapping a trail across his back, needing to feel him. Being in his arms, letting the euphoria take over you both – it felt so right. Yet, you could feel what this was, what it meant. Maybe that’s why it felt different, why it felt so much better than the times before.

Eddie’s thrusts picked up, becoming stronger and deeper, your moans growing louder. You clenched your jaw when he hit your sweet spot over and over, willing yourself to push down the telltale warmth building inside you.

Eddie moved his head away, lifting to lock his eyes onto yours. “Let go.”

You shook your head, tears brimming to the surface. Eddie softened his gaze, his hand coming up to cradle your head, thumb lovingly stroking your temple as he nodded encouragingly.

“Let go,” he softly repeated.

The tears spilled out onto your cheeks as your back arched, your moans turning into a cry. You came again, your body spasming as you throbbed around him, the warmth seeping into you until you were boneless.  

Eddie cried out, closing his eyes as his thrusts stuttered, your orgasm coaxing his. He pulled out, stroking himself before he spilled over your thighs, shuddering breaths escaping him as his chest heaved.

Hours later, the light of the setting sun streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow over both of you. You had laid down, facing each other afterwards, caressing each other until the shuddering died down and since then, you were unable to move, unable to look away from each other.

A stray tear escaped your eye, falling down the bridge of your nose. Eddie gently brushed the wetness away, pushing up to place a lingering kiss on your forehead.

The tears began to flow as it sunk in.

It was over.

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day. Welcome to Too Much Information Tuesday.

Mastrophobia is a fear of boobs. (Go figure!)

Nicolas Cage was once stalked by a mime.

Brits send over 64 million pointless emails a day.

Wiz Khalifa spends about $10,000 on weed every month.

A female ‘cock block’ is called a ‘clam jam’.

The Musée du Louvre has its own dedicated fire brigade.

Average penis size has increased over the last 30 years.

The awards for excellence in obituary writing are called the Grimmys.

The Candy Crush app makes about $850,000 per day.

‘Baby Got Back’ by Six Mix-a-Lot has made over $100,000,000 since its release.

The inventor of the bra, Caresse Crosby, had a pet whippet called Clytoris.

‘Misspell’ is one of the most commonly misspelled words in the English language.

In 2007, Scotland spent £125,000 devising a new national slogan. The winning entry was: ‘Welcome to Scotland’.

Everyone has at least 50,000 thoughts a day but 95% of them are the same as the day before.

When a male honey bee climaxes during sex, his testicles explode and he dies.

In 2007, a woman from New Zealand was fired for using caps lock too often in work emails.

The Institute for the Future predicts that 85% of jobs which will exist in 2030 haven’t yet been invented.

On average, people who get out of bed by 7.00 a.m. perform better at work, tend to be happier, less stressed and thinner.

The traffic is so bad in Moscow that some wealthy residents have bought Ambulances to speed up their journeys.

In the late 19th century, you could buy heroin through the Sears department store catalogue.

In 2002, the average user spent 46 minutes on the Internet a day. In 2012, the average user spent four hours on the Internet every day.

The penis of the blue whale is known as a dork. Blue whales have an average penis length of 98 inches.

The world's poorest president is of the country of Uruguay because he donates 90% of his salary to charity.

In 1970, a woman in Arizona filed a lawsuit against God after a lightning bolt struck her home. She won the case by default after the defendant failed to turn up in court.

Shackleton’s Antarctic expedition found a stowaway onboard who was allowed to stay on condition he’d be the first to be eaten in an emergency.

A ‘verbal vampire’ is someone whose incessant, boring talk is so stultifying that it drains the life out of anyone who is forced to listen to them.

In 1674, the ‘Women’s Petition Against Coffee’ called for a ban on coffee, suggesting that it made men too talkative and rendered them “unfruitful” in the bedroom.

Limping was briefly fashionable in 18th century England. The Prince of Wales' wife, Alexandra of Denmark had a limp and other ladies imitated her. Shopkeepers sold pairs of shoes with one high and one low heel.

Perissology is the unnecessary use of rather more words than are necessary to get the meaning of the words across to the majority of people in a meaningful manner or way to make sure they really understand what you mean to make sure they don't misunderstand what you are saying.

In 1978, a woman in Prague decided to end her life after finding out her husband was cheating. She walked to the balcony of her apartment and jumped but she didn't hit the ground. She landed on and crushed her husband who was returning home. He died from the impact, she survived.

In 2017, a North Korean man decided he'd had enough and attempted to escape. After driving at speed into the border, he ran for his life. He was shot five times but reached South Korean soil and collapsed on the ground. Despite his injuries, he made a full recovery and lives happily in South Korea.

Okay, that’s enough information for one day. Have a tremendous and tumultuous Tuesday! I love you all.

[chronicas]

I’m not changing Asterius’ design because I just spent an entire hour drawing his bow for this stupid render because I had to study how recurve bows looks because the easier option was a longbow and I personally don’t think he’s a longbow kinda guy. Also I want the lineart to look literally perfect because if it’s not I will die one million deaths. It’s 1am and there’s a snowstorm.

[toji-bunny-girl]

𝙎𝙖-𝙏𝙤-𝙍𝙪

CHARACTER— yandere!gojo x fem!reader CONTENTS— yandere themes, stalking, hidden camera bear thingy, slight angst? IDKK gojo is just gross asf, noncon, intoxicated!reader, worshipping kink, DELUSIONALL‼️‼️‼️, slight fingering idk, sex yuh A/N— someone requested 4 sum more yandere jjk so here’s him 😇😇 might do the others when I feel liek it (ok I’m sorry this kinda gross, it’s literally 3 am rn)

The lustre of his eyes glimmered against the reflection of the screen, his face turning rubicund was evidence of the blood rushing underneath his cheeks. Sweat flecked across his palms, marginally soiling his pants when he rubbed his hands on them.

Your eyes stared straight into his, and he thought your orbs must be of millions of blended colours for them to glint in iridescent. The sliver of rays from the screen pierced his irises, and he swore the sight of you must be cleansing his soul.

He sucked his lips as you played with the toy bunny’s hands, and a smile reached your face before you pressed the soft toy into your chest, clutching it in your arms as you sighed something. Something that started with Sa and ended with Ru. His mind must be playing tricks on him, right? It couldn’t be that—

Then there it comes again, the cadence of your voice, the shape of your lips, and his name that you whispered. Sa-To-Ru.

The Sa whose eyes would only trail behind your wake, the To that breathed just for the air that you exhaled, and the Ru that didn’t believe God lives in heaven, because there was you, his Goddess that walked the Earth amongst the sinful humanity.

Satoru. He thought he had never loved his name even more than that moment.

But he found himself wrong—oh so wrong.

You sounded even more euphonious sprawled out before him, intoxicated with alcohol on your tongue and in your veins—not a clue about where you are and what’s going on. All you could gather was the familiar mop of silver in your foggy sight, and how the world seemed to be on vertigo.

The bits and pieces of recollections you could grasp onto in your besotted state were the hours spent drinking bottles of liquor, giggling at the charming jokes and teases from Gojo. Then the clashes of teeth and his hands on your chest, the long ride up an elevator, and stumbling onto a bed that smelled like him.

“My name…” he panted when his head rose from your jugular—marked and claimed through teeth and tongue. “Say my name,” he repeated, pressing his lips against your jaw as he took in a drag of your ambrosial scent, long fingers pumping in and out of your squeezing cunt.

You frowned, moaning into the torrid air that bubbled around the two of you and arching your back when an orgasm tumbled through, warmth pervading through your core when pleasure glitched over your body like static.

His name doesn’t read past your lips, but your groan of pleasure was enough for him to render him halcyon. Lining his painfully pulsing head to your slick entrance, the dilatory push of his fat tip into your folds made a cry ripple through both of your throats. In you he found warmth that tasted like divinity; the forbidden fruit between the thighs of his Goddess.

He didn’t dare move, afraid that your grip would tempt an orgasm in him to soil your quim with his load. His thumb drew circles upon your clit, trying to mitigate the tight clench of your cunt in the wake of your previous orgasm.

Your muscles finally relaxed in a few rubs, and he let his length ease into you, your hole still pulsing and spasming as his cock filled your insides. Gojo’s chest fluttered with rapture as he groaned for your name, almost as if he was trying to have you look at him, fully sober instead of laying crumpled on his bed.

But you don’t, your eyes remained still shut, and only the little whimpers and cries that fell off the edges of your lips denoted your senses still awake yet torpor from the inebriation.

“Please, look at me?”

You groaned when he benignly lifted your jaw, his sense of deify for you felt through his cold fingertips before his lips meld into yours. Your mouth lax open, letting his tongue taste the heaven off of yours and swallow your saliva of ambrosia down his throat.

When he withdrew from your face with a dense cloud over your heads, he found the hues of your orbs peering into his summer’s blue sky, your eyelashes fanning the heat over his cheeks. His heart jumped and paced, and he was sure you could hear his heartbeat. Could you?

“Satoru…?” you whispered. The tang of liquor blazing strongly in your system, but you still managed to recognise him. “Wha–Where are we? And wha—”

You were cut off from your words when his lips crashed into yours, and his hips began pistoning in and out of you, your moans jumbled between your dancing mouths before sizzling in the hot air. Your walls tightened around his girth as he pumped deep into you, his cock throbbing and threatening ejaculation, but he would rather abnegate himself from pleasure if you hadn’t succumbed to it.

Every stroke of his swollen head against the bump of your g-spot made you gasp and cry with the stimulation, palms desperately attempting to push the weight of the male off, but it simply came to piteous futility.

At his last stroke, your squirting cunt squeezed his cock tight and wet his pelvis, and his load began filling your inside to the brim, thick spurts of cum shooting at your cervix as you screamed his name.

The Sa who you could taste on your tongue, the To who swore you’re the lone fire to his loins, and the Ru who promised to never let your divinity step a single foot out of his door—your temple, to walk the earth soiled by sinning humans.

Satoru—the priest to your Holiness.

© toji-bunny-girl― all rights reserved. do not modify, translate, plagiarise or repost my work

[proficientman]

Invideo Review: Unleashing the Power of Video Creation

In this Invideo Review, we will dive into what makes this platform a game-changer for anyone looking to create engaging videos quickly and easily. Click here to explore InVideo.

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InVideo is a simple, scalable video creation platform with templates that help you make engaging videos in minutes. It is perfect for marketers, media companies, and any business that wants to create marketing videos without the hassle of traditional video editing.

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Create stunning professional-level videos with pre-made templates

Access InVideo’s media library filled with millions of beautiful images, videos, and music

Trim clips, crop frames, loop video, and more with Advanced Editing options

Add stickers, overlays, effects, and GIFs

Export HD-quality videos in minutes

Choose from a variety of copyright-free music

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Select A Template

To begin, just select a specially-designed template that matches your video needs. InVideo offers templates for technology, sports, Instagram posts, and more.

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Next, copy and paste your video script into the template. This makes it easy to start telling your story right away.

Use Invideo’s Media Library

InVideo’s library is filled with millions of stunning images and royalty-free videos. These resources help you match your message perfectly.

Quick Edit

Click “Quick Edit” and InVideo’s smart engine will create a scene with your custom text. This feature fast-forwards through the tedious video editing process.

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If you need to make tweaks, you’re 100% in control. You can trim or extend clips, crop the frame, loop video, and change the volume.

Preview And Export

Preview your video to make sure it’s as perfect as you want it to be. Once you’re satisfied, export an HD-quality video, which is rendered in minutes.

Add Music

Add music from InVideo’s collection of copyright-free music. Choose from any mood, from electronic to dramatic to happy.

Why Choose InVideo?

InVideo is perfect for publishers, marketers, and small businesses that want to create engaging videos without complication or hours spent on the computer. With InVideo, you’re getting an arsenal of hundreds of templates, pre-made design elements, an extensive media library, and advanced editing features.

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InVideo offers lifetime access to its platform. This means you can keep creating stunning videos without worrying about subscription fees.

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What Is Invideo?

InVideo is a scalable video creation platform with pre-made templates for quick, engaging videos.

Who Can Benefit From Invideo?

Marketers, media companies, and businesses wanting to create marketing videos will benefit the most.

How Does Invideo Simplify Video Editing?

InVideo offers pre-made templates and advanced editing options, making video creation faster and easier.

What Features Does Invideo Offer?

InVideo provides trimming, cropping, looping, overlays, effects, and a vast media library of images, videos, and music.

Can I Add Music To My Videos?

Yes, InVideo offers a collection of copyright-free music in various moods.

How Quickly Can I Create Videos With Invideo?

With InVideo’s smart engine and templates, you can create HD-quality videos in minutes.

Is There A Preview Option In Invideo?

Yes, InVideo allows you to preview your video before exporting it in HD quality. Get InVideo Lifetime Deal.

[macwantspeace]

"It was Aliens" from The Big Picture - Jay Kuo "On top of his original Big Lie, Trump is now pushing a 2024 version for the upcoming election: that illegal immigrants will be voting in numbers by the millions, rendering any result other than a Trump victory yet another fraud upon the American people." OK. Yeah. No. Y'know I had to spend six hours to get a photo ID in Texas. 35 years with a Texas driver license. It was not valid to transition to a state photo ID (cataracts and no car). They wanted papers. I had already spent more than an hour doing three buses in over 100 degree sunshine. Waited in a room with hundreds of people wandering and sitting. But back home. Figured how to do two buses. Printed out a bunch of stuff. Paystub, W-2, utility, phone, checking, birth certificate, social security card, and a freaking digital painting of my front door. More buses. More sitting. Get called. Fifteen minutes to find the cubicle in the maze, missed my turn. Submitted papers, got portrait took. Pay the fee. And every single freakin' time I go to vote they want to see that photo ID. I have a registration card (new every two years), they never ask for that. So...I even asked KRM if they ever tried to vote. Nope.