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artwins · 4 months

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a shortcut through the swamp

#orignal character #oc #harpy dude #slavic folklore #slavic mythology #illustration #dark art #art #harpy #artists on tumblr #artwins #severin #seva

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zephyrbug · 5 months

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Quick piece for @dwoodledip of their oc Watcher! We love a girl boss here💜🗡️✨

Another portrait for the secret satan server!!

#art #dnd #illustration #dungeons and dragons #oc #fantasy #dnd5e #rogue #soul knife #5e rogue #elf #drow #astral elf #dnd oc #orignal character #dnd art #ttrpg #ttrpg oc #my art

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hyunliq · 7 months

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Student council President

Warnings:

Public Sex, Humiliation, Cream pie, Delinquent reader, reader has male anatomy

FEMALE READERS/ FEM ALIGNED DNI

You whine as you feel the student council presidents cock plunge in and out of your hole. Your bent over his desk in the student council room, he’s fucking you because you were being good today.

“Come on (Name), you gotta keep quiet or... maybe you want someone to hear us?”

The student council president snickered as he fucks you faster his cock going in and out of you. He reaches over and forces his fingers inside your mouth, and you bite down on his finger's saliva dripping from your lips down to your chin. Some of your saliva falls onto the desk as your moans get louder.

“Oh?~ It sounds like you want other students to see the big scary delinquent get dicked down by the student council president...~”

He smirks as his other hand moves up from your waist to the front of your torso playing with your nipples. Your moans become louder having stimulation on your chest and your ass as you try to speak.

“N-No!.....~ N-Ngh.!~ h-hah...~ S-Shut u-up...!~”

You moan out your face dusted with pink as your face looks very pornographic as you get closer to your release your hole clenching down on his cock.

“Woah~ Your already close? Aw~ You used to be able to last so long~ Is fucking you in the council room turning you on?... Fucking you where if someone opened that door, they’d see you fucked out on a cock?~”

The student council president smirked as his hips jolted forward in one hard thrust and you moan your cock spraying cum on his desk your hole squeezing down around his cock trying to milk it of it’s juices.

“O-Oh..!~ Y-Your h-holes so t-tight...!~”

He moaned as he thrusted into you again soon cumming inside of you, pulling out with a smirk seeing cum fall from the rim of your hole your legs giving out as you grip onto the desk to stay up.

Since I'm not doing Kinktober this year I may sprinkle in some little smutfics here and there as a small treat, btw should I name him and make him a regular character??

#x male reader #fanfic #bottom male reader #orignal character #hyunliq posts

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raindropsyndrome · 4 months

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Throws my OCs at you and RUUUUNS

#so uh I haven’t posted here in a. bit.#it’s because I got shy sorry #this is just a few things from the past few months #art #my art #my artwork #oc artwork #ocs #oc stuff #my ocs #orignal character #body horrow cw

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quazies · 8 months

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Some more concept stuff for cryptid cartoon series in the works..!

Of course they have to have a cool house to live in!! (one of my favorite cartoon tropes)

Feeling very passionate about this project, might start with very short 2-3 minute episodes, worthikids style?? I'd like to take some time off next year just to work on it full time (of course if my savings are doing well😅)

For now, I can share my sketches and ideas with you guys! For those who were asking, the lil' Frog creature is based off the Loveland Frog! Her working name is "Tad" but anything can change in the future!

#oc #orignal character #concept art #wip #cryptids

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cerylune · 4 months

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A drop of rain could feed the briar May the earth flood again

#dnd #dnd art #dnd oc #death cleric #orignal character #evantide #oc:aluviel #she finally got her revenge good for her

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sisterkosho · 1 month

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This is so stupid I’m sorry—

#nanako asano #ran haitani #rindou haitani #haitani brothers #tokyo revengers #tr #tokrev #oc #orignal character #meme

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r-f-m-writes · 1 month

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A Lark In a Hollow Chapter One

Really, she doesn't have a choice.

Lark barely remembers the huge shadow of a man sitting beside her in the dead heat of Mrs. Poppy's office at the children's home. He is silent, stoic, and completely terrifying.

Christopher Hollow.

Muscled.

Six foot five.

Storm blue eyes.

Dog tags outlined under the straining stretch of his black tee-shirt.

"Lark," Mrs. Poppy says, gently, "you're happy with this arrangement? You want to go with your Godfather?"

There's no money left for her to live off until she finds a job - if she finds a job.

Her Dad is dead.

Lark doesn't have a choice.

Lark Douglas didn’t know who Christopher Hollow was when Mrs. Poppy brought his name up to her on a hot Saturday afternoon in her office. The additional details that he had served with her Dad in Afghanistan and was her appointed legal guardian and Godfather did nothing to help jog Lark’s memory.

In fact, it was a full week after Mrs. Poppy informed Lark of Christopher Hollow’s existence that the girl finally managed to scrounge up a single, short, fuzzy memory of the man.

She was home.

The door to their flat was open, the old ceiling fan had been turning in slow circles over her head. It did nothing to fight against the mid July heat that was so stifling and muggy it made her skin stick to the linoleum floors. She had sat on the couch playing with Labrador, her stuffed toy dog, when Mom walked in with someone.

Lark was five, she thinks, and she hadn’t paid attention to anything that was being said, or looked at who had stepped the room after her mother. She only glanced up from where she was making her stuffed dog do backflips off the worn-down couch cushions when big, black boots stepped into her vision off the edge of the sofa.

The man who stood in front of her was tall, wearing camo pants and a fitted grey tee-shirt. His face was hard to remember, but Lark thought he had sandy brown hair and the start of a thick brown beard. He had crouched down, setting aside a battered black duffle bag, looking at her like he expected something.

Lark had only stared at him.

Mom’s voice had a strain in it when she spoke.

“Say hi to Chris, baby. He’s come all the way from the airport just to see you.”

The man spoke before Lark had the chance. He had a deep, rough rumbly voice.

“Don’t worry her about it, Lori. Been two years. I’d be surprised if Pet remembered me at all.”

Pet.

That was the only memory Lark had of Christopher.

She wasn’t even sure it was real and not just something she had made up in the recesses of her mind as an unconscious effort to help herself fill in the gaps and feel less uncertain.

She had lots of memories like that.

Memories no one else could verify. Memories she wasn’t sure happened, but couldn’t shake as being real.

This was what led Lark to where she stood at the top of the worn flight of wooden stairs. Seventeen years old, dressed in clothes that didn’t belong to her, feeling entirely unsure of what the future would hold.

Seventeen, and only three weeks and four days shy of her eighteenth birthday.

It was ridiculous.

Stupid, even.

Why couldn’t she just wait it out at the girl’s home?

Why was Mrs. Poppy was obligated, by law, to reach out to relatives Lark had never even heard of and negotiate with them down the phone, asking and then, after the eighth rejection, pleading with each of them to come and pick her up?

“Just a month - no, no, you wouldn’t have to commit to adoption, Mrs. Tanner - not at all. I am only reaching out because Lark is your niece, and I am sure you want the best for her -”

The list thinned, name by name. Lark saw them each time Mrs. Poppy opened the manilla envelope with her initials on it, glancing over the struck off phone numbers and feeling nothing.

The rejections didn’t surprise her.

She knew from lived experience how reluctant people were to help a stranger.

It took less than half a week for them to reach the last one.

His name.

Christopher Hollow.

He was who Lark was waiting for as she hung onto the banister, her dark eyes fixed on the panes of frosted glass in the door, anticipating seeing a shadow blot across the panels when he stepped onto the porch and rang the buzzer.

Floorboards creaked.

Lark moved too late when Mrs. Poppy stepped out of her office that stood at the side of the stairs. The stacked blonde beehive of her hair bobbing into the girl’s view as Lark tried to scurry back out of her sight.

Too little, too late.

The kind wrinkles around Mrs. Poppy’s eyes doubled and deepened as the sound made her look upward and spot Lark.

“Lark, there you are! I was just about to come and find you, dear. Nip down into my office for a moment, I’ve got some things I want to discuss with you before Mr. Hollow arrives.”

The old stairs squeaked loudly as the girl walked sheepishly down the grossly worn-out blue carpet runner, rounding the curved banister at the bottom to follow Mrs. Poppy into her office.

It was sun warm inside, light spilling over the faded hardwood floor and shiny varnish of the big, brown desk, highlighting the dozens of ring-marks stained into its top by mugs of coffee past. Mrs. Poppy rounded the desk, having to skirt sideways between the edge of it and the rows of heavy metal file drawers that flanked the room on all sides.

Taking her perch in a black wheely chair, the woman gestured for Lark to sit in one of the two big, green, retro velvet sofas that faced her desk.

Sinking down into her seat, Lark folded her hands in her lap and looked at the woman, waiting to be spoken to. She had been thoroughly taught from a young age that she was to be seen and not heard. There had also been plenty of occasions when Lark wasn’t to be seen or heard. Those were moments when her half empty pink, princess wardrobe came in handy.

Mrs. Poppy placed a pair of up-swept cat eye spectacles on the tip of her tall, gently crooked nose, and took out a notepad. It was one of dozens she had, this particular piece of stationary sported Lark’s name on its front, written in black pen and then broadly underlined in purple marker.

“Miss Douglas today is a big one for you. How are you feeling, hon? Excited? Nervous?”

The soft slip of her southern accent calmed Lark some as she fought against the urge to fidget, keeping her fingers still in her lap.

“Excited, Ma’am. Dad didn’t like to travel much, so seeing the Appalachians sounds like a real adventure.”

Lark stuck a quick smile onto the end of her lie. She had rehearsed it in her head a hundred times since she was told the good news a week before.

Christopher Hollow wanted her.

He was driving the whole way down the coast from his home in the Appalachian Mountains to come and collect her. Lark couldn’t even comprehend where the Appalachian Mountains stood, just that they were stupendously far away.

Mrs. Poppy grinned at Lark, genuine and radiant, as she wrote something in fast scratching cursive over and empty line of the notepad.

“Always such an optimist, Lark. I’m sure Mr. Hollow will be delighted by you.”

Lark’s left thumb twitched. When she smiled, it felt tight in the corners, “I certainly hope so, Ma’am.”

And she truly did. Lark knew the way men behaved when they weren’t delighted by her.

~R.F.M~

A fist gripped long, brown hair tightly enough to tear dozens of strands out of Lark’s scalp as she was dragged down the hallway by her head, the girl’s frame stooped almost to the floor as she clawed at the hands restraining her.

“Fucking little bitch coming to steal from me? Think you’re slick, huh?”

In honesty, Lark did.

She had stolen from the man before on countless occasions, rummaging through the contents of his worn leather wallet, fishing out loose coins and dollar notes that wouldn’t be missed. Before, he was always too out of his mind to realize, so Lark had gotten greedy.

Twenty dollars was a lot of money to people like them. She was foolish for thinking she could snatch it away without his notice.

Lark didn’t know his name, or his age, or anything about him other than the fact he bought pot on Thursday afternoons and left the door to his apartment wide open with 90’s music playing full volume while he sat out on his balcony in a beat-up pink recliner, back to the living room, smoking.

By all accounts, the man wasn’t very smart. But he was still a man, a man much stronger than Lark.

#ao3 original work #orignal character #orignal writing #ao3 writer #archive of our own #a lark in a hollow #original male character #original female character #original novel #original work #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #shortandsweet #short and sweet #sweet'nshort #rfmwrites

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gfbs-the-decaying · 3 months

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WARNING FOR DISTURBING IMAGERY, BLOOD AND GORE

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Issued to the public ...

Info post 1.) Gangrenous Feline Brain Syndrome