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The night is dark and full of terror ! Melisandre of Asshai commission for @histruequeen ♦♦♦

As fandom celebrates the engagement between Yuuri Katsuki and Viktor Nikiforov, somewhere between worlds, Yuuri Shibuya is feeling suddenly insignificant, as if this other Yuuri has usurped his throne and far surpassed his legacy.

“Woah, hold on,” he says.  “I’ve been engaged to Wolfram since the first light novel was released in 2000, and now these guys come along and try to upstage us??  Wow, rude.”

People are having none of it.

“But you proposed by mistake,” they say.

“But you aren’t really in love with Wolfram,” they say.

Yuuri ignores the first comment because he can’t really deny it, and also engagement rings in Barcelona are a lot more romantic than a slap across the face over the dinner table, so he knows he’s already lost there.  Instead, he focuses on the whole “in love” thing, because he doesn’t think anyone else has any business trying to determine how he feels one way or the other.  Also, baseball season ended weeks ago, so he’s feeling a bit pent up competitively, and this seems like a great opportunity for some good old-fashioned sportsmanship or something, even if he feels more defensive than sportsman-like at the moment.

He considers going over everything he and Wolfram have ever done for one another.  That whole “I’ll fall with you” thing still has to carry some weight, doesn’t it?  Then he calls to mind every instance in which he ever waxed poetic about Wolfram over the span of seventeen novels, but he knows it’ll take too long to cover it all.  He starts mumbling something about “the sun” and “looks like an angel” and ends up going on another mental tangent about how Wolfram’s the most beautiful person he’s ever met, but because it happens in his head, no one hears a word of it.

Wolfram comes to the rescue.

“You know what we have that Viktuuri doesn’t have?” Wolfram says.

“What?” Yuuri wonders.

Wolfram’s answering grin is wide with pride.  “A daughter,” he says.

Yes.  Yes!!  That’s it, Yuuri thinks.  He and Wolfram have Greta, and no matter how much fandom might like to pretend Yuri Plisetsky is Viktuuri’s son, they have no official adoption papers to make that situation anything more than a silly delusion.

“What would I do without you, Wolfram?” Yuuri asks.

“Still come in first place instead of fourth, because as much as I hate to admit it, you don’t really need me to take care of you, even if you are an idiot.”

Yuuri and Wolfram high five one another and go have a picnic with their legally adopted daughter.

The next day, the kingdom’s newspaper runs an article about how they’re more in love than ever.

Wolfram smirks and dangles a marriage contract in Yuuri’s face.

Yuuri knows he doesn’t need to sign it to prove anything.

(Somewhere in the depths of the internet, a small but annoyingly loud part of fandom suddenly rises up and says, “But wait. Even if Wolfram still looks and acts really young, he’s actually 66 years older than Yuuri, so that’s pedophilia.”

It’s actually not pedophilia, because neither of them are pre-pubescent kids, and humans and demons age at such different rates that Earthen standards don’t really apply in the Great Demon Kingdom, but this small and annoyingly loud part of the fandom doesn’t care about accuracy. They grasp their pitchforks and begin their war anew.)


2006!ME vs 2016!ME

Oh hey gais, I found the bandwagon!  

I’m really not a huge fan of comparing myself ten years ago and today me, because 2006!ME would shrivel up and die of despair at being compared to the 2016!ME.  It’s really not fair to her, she’s a teenager with horomones who’s view of the world is colored by depression and being ostracized by her peers and even teachers.  And her biggest dream is to move back to Japan and be a mangaka.  2006!ME’s first best friend (who introduced her to anime) had also dropped her like a hot potato the year before because “it wasn’t fair that [20016!ME] got better grades AND drew better than [Best friend at the time]”.  I was a dour, depressing, and utterly moody young thing (not without good reason, but the fact remains that I was very unhappy with life).

Meanwhile, 2016!ME has since gone to college, learned to be objective about her work, spent the majority of those years learning and almost constantly practicing to use digital tools, Developed a taste, the skill, and lots of appreciation for a wide range of art styles, filled many many sketchbooks (which were not available to 2006!Me due to being too expensive, so she used printer paper and manila folders) of things like hands, noses, and other artistic foils until she dun git gud at that stuff, did 300+ art commissions in three years, got published in a tabletop RPG module book, became a comic colorist for one of her art heroes (that would be @bludragongal), became the art director of a volunteer game studio and then developed the common sense to leave and realize that she can say no to every “job” offer that comes her way if she doesn’t feel that she’s being treated professionally, and to top it all off, gained very important and good friends that she had only just met in 2006 but have since become irreplaceable fixtures in her life.  A bunch of other things happened too, but that’s the gist of it.

tl;dr 2006 was the first year I started doing digital art, so understandably, I sucked. Here in 2016 I have 12+ years of drawing and painting experience SO OF COURSE I DO IT LIKE A BOSS.

holy hell, never ask me to draw ezra or design an outfit. i’m sorry u two.

ANYWAY i was thinking: you see a lot of ezra-corrupted-by-maul stuff (WHICH I LOVE) BUT rarely the other way around? ezra’s a good egg and i want more aus where he drags maul kicking and screaming into the light (or somewhere in-between the dark and light b/c lbr, maul is p. much surviving on pure dark side spite these days).

  • Qrow: Winter why are you drunk?
  • Winter: Anything you can do I can do better.
  • Qrow: Look if this is all about how I said I was irreplaceable to our operation, unlike you, I was mostly kidding. You don't have to-is that Ruby slung over your shoulder?
  • Winter: I'm picking her up from school like a good uncle.
  • Ruby: Help me
  • Qrow: Winter you don't need to try to be me what possessed you to-
  • Winter: Shut up, I can be irresponsible and get away with it while making snide remarks just as well as you. *Hic*. Uhhhhh, you're stupid.
  • Qrow: Winter you're terrible at this.
  • Winter: Than what am I good at? Completing missions? Look I try to act all business like and shit but somedays I just ask myself how people look at me and, frankly, I've come to the conclusion they don't. What's my identity? My gimmick? My edge? I'm not *Hic* cool and shit like you and Ozpin and all the kids think I'm lame. I thought if I drank I'd...
  • Qrow: Yeah i get that but right now you're just pathetic.
  • Winter: No I'm not I'm charming and charismatic like you are. *Barfs*.
  • Qrow: I think I should take you home.
  • Winter: I'M HIP. I AM STYLE. *takes out hip flask and takes a sip*. God that's the stuff.
  • Qrow: Okay Winter that's real nice now come on let me take you back to Ozpin.
  • Winter: No You won't take me alive. *Draws weapon*
  • Qrow: Winter you're holding that backwards.
  • Winter: I'M BEING QUIRKY

♡Home Sweet Home♡


“The result was a really happy-looking Kitayama”



Okay so… Jason at one of those painting workshops… where they show you how to Paint a Thing and you Paint It… and he Does

Jongin; Sometimes (M)

 in which Jongin wants you on the countertop
❝It is legitimately 2AM and I woke up for a bathroom break but this was literally in my dream. So, therefore, being a Jongin trash, I just had to write it out before it slips from my mind, it just came aha see what i did there no not really and ahaha I don’t know what happened here but ya’ll can judge me cause I’m going back to sleep.
►1890 words | scenario, smut

Sometimes when Jongin decides that it’s time to pour his love and affection down on you, he has many, oh, he has many ways to show it. Sometimes he likes to take his time and worship your body like a goddess, sometimes he acts like he has all the time in the world and it drives you insane to how much restrain this man has, sometimes he goes for a mad drive and the pleasure comes with the snap of his fingers and sometimes, sometimes, he does it whenever he likes and that includes when you’re cooking in a kitchen where you’re most vulnerable and you don’t even notice he’s staring at you through the glass windows, stalking your every move until you’re done putting aside all the pans into the sink, the dishes are done and kept in a tub because they’re going to be eaten later and you want them to be warm and keeping you warm is exactly what he wants to do right now.

He gently slides the door open, making sure to leave it like that so the steam doesn’t fog up the place and he cautiously maneuvers his way around the area until he’s standing right behind you. He knows you like to cook with music on and man, you’re giving him an easy life. His arms don’t hold back and he’s pulling you towards him when his arms snake around your waist and he feels you stiffen and a scream is trapped in your throat and there’s nothing you can do because your hearing is blocked. He grins and takes a peek at you and you greet him with a glare as there are times when Jongin has done this before and let’s just say that it usually ends on a bad note and a case of scolding. He uses a hand to brush a strand away from your forehead and you go back to cleaning up that you hadn’t notice he pulled out one side of the earplugs to talk to you, “Busy?”

He swears he’s about to burst into a pit of laughter when you scoff a laugh, rolling your eyes as you set one pan aside and you’re going back for the other, “You have eyes, use them,” And your tone, so cute.

“Aw… are you mad that I scared you like that?” He coos, blowing a raspberry and you’re stabbing that berry to death, “Spare me, Jongin, I only have one life to live,” You grumble, setting the other pan aside and just as you’re about to wipe your hands, he wastes no time to hold you in so you can’t move or reach for the cloth, “Jong—I swear to God—can you please let me go?”

“Hm…” He thinks for a moment and you’re taking a good look at him and now you notice that spark in his eyes, “Don’t wanna,” He mumbles and then his lips are nipping your earlobe before he whispers, “I’m hard for you and I want to have you on the countertop,” He tells you his plans and you know, Jongin doesn’t falter once he executes what he tells you. He feels you stiffening once more but this time, it’s with a different feeling. He chuckles, taking this chance to slip your phone with the earplugs attached from you, sliding it onto the other side of the counter. It’s the darkness within his eyes that catches you and you hadn’t realize he’s lured you far away from the sink just to spin you around and this time he catches your lips between his own. 

All initial plans are smothered when your lips meet and it just happens that Jongin is one hell of a kisser—and he knows that. His tongue is always languid, taking its own sweet pace but when he effortlessly sets you on the countertop, your bottom sliding on the cold surface and he harshly tugs you towards him with his iron grip on your waist, his teeth is scraping on your lower lip hard enough to make them bleed.

He pulls away sharply and works his way down, dotting open mouthed kisses as if he’s mapping your body and this is a map he’s traveled many times before. He always starts from the corner of your lips, giving both sides a kiss and he smirks on your skin as he moves to your jaw, all the way down to the side of your neck where he yanks your shirt to the side and you’re mumbling to him to get rid of your clothes. He tells you you’re too impatient and you say fuck you because he’s the cause of all this. He shakes his head and pulls away from your neck, deciding that hey, it’s true and he starts the frenzy of stripping his clothes and you don’t waste your time on that, either. 

His shirt is tossed out by the door, his jeans follow not too long after, your apron is coming off and he smiles with his eyes and bites his lip as he watches you remove your shirt. You call him a pervert for staring at you like that and he admits that he is because fuck, you’re beautiful. But then when you’re reaching for your shorts, he brushes your hands away and steps back in between your legs, “Ah, this is my job,”

You’re about to smack him and tell him to stop playing around but then he shows you it’s not a game when he forcefully places your hands around his shoulders because you’re going to need it and he eases one hand around your lower back while his other pops the button open and you’re wondering if you really should take his words to accord. Your eyes close and you feel it rising when he uses a finger to slide it on the waistband of your panties, your breath hitches when he doesn’t hesitate to slide his whole palm over the fabric that’s covering your lips and he smirks when he knows where to add pressure on to make you snap. Your hips buckle when his palm is digging into your clit and your jaw is slack when he continue his assault to feel you through the sheer material, you’re cursing at him for being a tease. He agrees with you as well and tell you that you have hands and you catch on what he means.

He almost rips the thin fabric to shove in two fingers and it’s making you see stars too soon, too soon. You’re feeling the need to get revenge that you pull him by the nape of his neck to get closer and he breathes into your neck heavily and curses when your hand slips down to give him a generous squeeze. He tells you it feels good and you tell him of course it’s fucking good and he doesn’t respond with words but with his fingers because they curl in you, pushing as deep as he can before they move rapidly to make your hand tremble by the line of his boxers. 

He takes a moment to pause, to let you breathe and even though the path to your peak is blocked, you find the will to slip your hand into his boxers and his breath hitches when your thumb is spreading the wetness all over the tip. He’s hard and he’s thick—he’s all ready for you that it really amazes you to how far he can wait just to crack you up first. Then you’re unwilling to wait and neither is he when you tell him to get on with it and he does when his boxers are kicked to the side on the floor and your panties follow not too long after. He promises you that he’s going to put his love all on you later but for now, he’s going to be quick.

You nod and slip your arms around his neck when he slides in and god, it’s driving you insane. He doesn’t give you time to adjust when he knows you’re ready and he’s setting a fast pace to make your breathing erratic. Your hair’s a mess, you’re sweating a lot more than you were when you were cooking and he’s buried his face in your neck, biting and sucking marks that can last for days and he doesn’t hold back. You’re whimpering and holding onto him with all you have and he tells you that he’s got you with one hand still keeping you sitting upright and his other gripping onto your thigh so whenever he enters, it’s hitting the right spot. Your hips instantly shift when he hits it right there and he notices this. He’s making your thigh bend upward and you’re unable to hold back the moans of his name that slip through your mouth because how the fuck does he always get the right spot?

You’re almost to your satisfaction, you’re letting him know that you’re coming, you’re coming, you’re coming. He tells you to come all over him, he tells you to not hold back and he’s there to catch you and he keeps his promises when you shake violently, his name is echoed around the place and it drives him to his destination when you feel the familiar warmth spreading in you and it’s moments like these that he appreciates that you’re on a pill. You hadn’t realize that you were biting his shoulder when he tells you it’s not the best feeling in the world and you mumble a soft apology because yeah, that’s how hard you came. You plant a kiss on his shoulder but remain like that, sinking into the aftermath as he rubs circles on your thigh as its wrapped around his waist, his other pressing on your lower back because he knows how painful and aching it must’ve been.

“Does it hurt?” He asks concernedly, into your ears and you’re smiling, shaking your head, “Not really…”

He decides to take things in his own hands and he literally does as he pulls you until you’re clinging onto him. He has the strength to pick up all your clothes because he knows how you don’t like them messily all over the place and he does it all with you catching it when he tosses it to you despite you just being on him, really on him. Then he reaches the bedroom and you toss everything into the basket with his aid and before he can settle you down on the bed where he’ll let you to sleep because he knows you’re tired, he feels something clenching around him just as he thinks he’s about to go soft.

He cocks an eyebrow at you and you lean away to grin at him when he catches that glint in your eyes, “Aren’t you a naughty angel?” His tone says otherwise as he places you on the bed, his body following you and you do realize that he’s still in you because nah, he doesn’t want to pull out.

“Well… sometimes, angels can be bad, too,”

He pushes the hair back from your forehead and he slides his hands down into yours to make them move over your head, his eyes darkening with another look, his lips curling up into a smile and you’re in for another ride when he says, “I can be a naughty boy too, then.”

Naughty Nidrasana - Part 2

Summary: Dean catches Sam being self-sufficient with his monster cock
Word Count: 580
Warnings: Wincest (first time writing Wincest), PWP, Sam’s Monster Cock, Masturbation, Autofellatio (Self BJ), Anal Sex
A/N: I partly blame @vintagevalentinexx for this who prompted me with what would happen if/when Dean walked in on Sam. I wrote a non-Wincest version and this Wincest version, which is twice as long because of smut. Uhhh, I don’t know who to tag for this and I’m too lazy to check on the Tumblr spreadsheet since I really need to get to sleep. I’ll just tag some faves and/or people I know that have written/read Wincest before.

Naughty Nidrasana 

Originally posted by acklesjensen

Sam would, of course, be all caught up in the moment unable to hear his brother call his name.

Dean burst into Sam’s room after no response, standing in the doorway and looking on in disbelief followed quickly by anger, his nostrils flaring immediately.

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