specially the octopus

instagram

he peep

Here comes some serious self-advertising!

So, basically, if you enjoy my drawings then it would make me really happy if you could maybe check out my instagram! I’m striving to become a tattooist and it would really help me out if you’d support me (of course only if you find yourself liking my art)!

ig: joe.datura

(It would also be super cool if you could maybe share this post!)

Happy Cephalopod Week! Cephalopods are my favorite animals, so in honor of the occasion here are some very special squid, octopus, and ammonites I’ve crocheted! All for sale here. 

"Space" (Reader Insert, Female Reader/Dean)
Request: Hi I really liked the Gabriel fic :) I was wondering if you could write an imagine where you’ve just starting dating dean and he’s super needy (in the sense that he wants to hug you and cuddle you all the time) and you get annoyed and yell at him but then later you apologize and make up for it with some smut ;) thanks xoRating: Explicit, of course. 
Characters/Pairing: Female Reader/Dean
Notes: It ran away with me a bit, at a little over 2,000 words. (There’s not a whole lot of dialogue because I don’t write Dean often, so I’m still getting used to his voice.)

____________________

You’ve known Dean Winchester for years. Your parents had often crossed paths, shared tricks of the hunting trade. You knew he had an almost unhealthy passion for pie, that he loved Led Zeppelin, that Sam was his weak point (and hurting him, as a couple of bullies had once proven, was the one way to make Dean come unhinged).

What you didn’t know was that the man was a closet cuddler.

When you woke up in bed with him four months ago fully expecting to grab your panties, your dignity, and slip away before he woke, that expectation was quickly strangled in a tangle of warm, heavy limbs as Dean wrapped himself around you, pulling your head into the curve of his neck and sliding a leg between yours.

You let yourself linger there for a moment, enjoying the warmth of the body next to you, the strange feeling of security that came with being wrapped in someone else’s arms. But eventually it got to be too much. Too warm, too secure, nearly suffocating.

You ran your nails lightly over Dean’s ribs, watched as he twitched away from you, limbs loosening enough that you could roll out of the bed. When you glanced back, he was awake and watching you, eyes heavy lidded, mouth smirking.

“Morning, sweetheart.”

Those two words eventually became a part of your morning ritual.

Keep reading

anewgayoflife  asked:

Can I draw fanart of you (aka a dorito with legs)

It would be a great honor to have a portrait drawn of me
You see back where I’m from only the high doritos in society are rich enough to have paintings
Because none of us have arms
So they have to order them specially from the octopus region but thats another story