Baby👶 Drawings. These Are Very Dear To Me Rn.. 2nd Pic Is My Nelavis With @barvin0k's Varonur 🩵

Uptdated Dimma's ref sheet, i really wasn't happy with her previous outfit.

The redesign costs her a leg though. Good thing Aicantar knows a thing or two about dwemer tech.

Venom: Let There Be Carnage Discarded Content

“Indoctrination”

I don’t know whether it was ever mentioned in the lore, but I sort of suspect the Thalmor start recruitment at a young age.  Kind of like the Hitler Youth. 

body worship + finn (giving) inspired by this lovely piece by the talented @whooshhhhhh

''What, not so tough when you're on the receiving end?'' Finn grins impishly, slowly crawling on top of you, holding himself up with one hand while the other grasps your chin, tilting your head to meet his eyes. ''Color me surprised,'' he huffs, sarcasm dripping off his husky voice as he drinks in the sight of you writhing under his large frame with hungry eyes.

''Look at you,'' he coos, ''I haven't even started and you're already squirming. Where did all your attitude go, hm?''

''Fuck you,'' you spit out, brows furrowed, though, with the way your voice cracks and heat climbs up your face, it comes off as desperate rather than intimidating.

''You will. Eventually,'' Finn chuckles, ''If you behave, that is.'' and god dammit, you wanna wipe that cheeky smirk off his face so bad. Your heart is beating in your throat, breathing rapid, and you can't even squeeze your thighs to get some friction because his knee is lodged right against your core, and you'd rather not give him any more material to tease you with. You can feel your arousal soaking through your panties, and being sopping wet in anticipation when he has yet to grace you with his touch is just... plain embarrassing.

...Is this how he felt when he was the one trapped beneath you?

Calloused fingertips trace your lips, Finn releasing a huff of amusement when you let out a shaky breath. Feeling more vulnerable than ever, you're practically trembling from the nerves under his touch, and he notices, he always does, bringing his other hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb swiping over your cheekbone soothingly. Small as the gesture is, it helps you feel better.

He takes his time, his lips and hands brushing over every inch of your skin, every mole, every freckle, every mark. Neither of you has to say anything, he can deduce just where you're sensitive by the mere hitch on your breath and he lingers there, sucking small hickies all over as if he's trying to paint a blank canvas, as if he wants to leave evidence of his presence. He's seen you trace the lovebites on his skin and yours on the morning after, a soft smile on your face as you remember the events of the night prior, a flush creeping up on your face, and he intends to leave a lasting impression tonight.

''Not to parrot you or anything, princess,'' he starts, ''But I've always been fascinated by your lips,'' he pushes two thick fingers past your lips, and you don't hesitate to suck on them eagerly, your eyes slipping shut as you hum around his digits. ''They look so pretty, wrapped around my fingers,'' he chuckles, and you crack your eyes open to shoot him a warning look that screams 'don't you dare—', but Finn pays you no mind, ''They look much prettier wrapped around something else, but oh well,'' he sighs wistfully, ''That's a conversation for another time.'' He slides his fingers out of your mouth, leaning in to press his lips to yours.

''You're an ass,'' you mumble against his lips, giggling into his mouth when you see the curl of his mouth peek from the gold prosthetic.

''...And?'' he raises an eyebrow, ''You still like me. So guess which one of us is winning,'' he sneaks in another kiss, ''I hope you don't expect me to wax poetic bullshit, sweetheart. You know damn well I'm not good at that,'' he shoots a half-hearted glare when you snort in agreement, ''Plus, I would much rather show you instead.''

His large hand wraps around your throat, ''Like the way your mouth falls open when I do this,'' he squeezes lightly, and as if on command, your lips part as you suck in a sharp breath. His hand lingers a moment longer on your throat, feeling your heartbeat thrum under his fingers before it trails down your collarbone, stopping when he reaches your chest and you brace yourself for a twinge of pain, ''Ah— there it is,'' he snickers, ''You know the rules. Two for flinching,'' he swiftly delivers two flicks to your pebbled nipples, tugging for good measure as he watches you grasp the sheets in an effort to still your body with a dissatisfied whine.

His hand ventures lower, hooking a finger under the elastic of your underwear, dragging it down your thighs tantalizingly slow, not breaking eye contact as he takes it off, lifting your leg and propping it on his shoulder before he drags his cock between your wet folds, ''See? Your back curves into a beautiful arch every single time,'' he murmurs as you keen in his touch, the piercings doing down the length of his cock providing you with much needed extra stimulation, but he doesn't give you anything more but a short bark of a laugh when he sees the way you're dripping onto the sheets.

''Unlike you, I'm not a merciful lover,'' his voice turns commanding, ''Beg.''

''Make me,'' you grin as you narrow your eyes at him, daring him to try. He has never been the one to back down from a challenge, his eyes crinkling with a knowing smile as if he was expecting your response, ''Oh, I will,'' he starts, cogs in his head already turning with all the ways he can torture you so sweetly, ''Count on it.''

Today I bring you the most forgotten mother of the Arcane

I love you, Renni. I wish you killed Jayce

Abbey bominable stimboard

💙 💜 🤍 / 💙 💜 🤍 / 💙 💜 🤍

Snippet - A Monstrous Suitor - Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a nation, must be in want of a wife.”

Just, y’know, don’t let him anywhere near your actual family….

Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO - on AO3

During brunch, Chross—the old prankster—sits Silco beside fashionable matrons and their eligible daughters. One by one, Chross makes a show of asking Silco about his private life, and the privations that go hand-in-hand with his seat of privilege. A farce worthy of the Demacian Bard. Silco plays his own part impeccably; half the game is being a good sport.

During a lull, he leans towards Chross and whispers, “Digging an early grave?”

They’re old allies; Chross can take a joke. Even if it’s only half-playful.

Chross offers a yellowing crescent of a grin. “Come now, Silco. One can do worse than choosing from such colorfully-arrayed dolls.”

“Shall I take them home to Jinx?”

“Jinx is young and has her whole life ahead for dollies,” Chross chides. “You, on the other hand, must choose one on the shelf. It will be a political statement. A symbol of inner stability. Our leader can’t have a reputation as a hot-footer.”

Silco circles a fingertip across the rim of his teacup. Pomegranate tea. An offshoot of a successful Ionian trade deal.

“I’ll survive.”

“Take it from a shriveled old relic. Many a gentleman survives the gilded halls, only to be gutted in the ladies’ boudoirs.”

“I do enjoy a good gutting.”

“Don’t tempt fate, my boy.”

“Nor should you.” Silco smiles, mouth a slash of serrated ivory. “Otherwise I might propose a union.” At the look of bemusement on Chross’ face, he unhurriedly corrects, “Oh no, dear friend. I don’t mean between old vipers like us. I mean with one of your charming daughters.”

Chross laughs—a horrid faux-cheerful whinny. “Would you? Delightful!”

Pecking a sip from the edge of his teacup, Silco kisses the red droplets with his teeth. “No less delightful than they. Candidly, it’s hard to choose. Marlene is so fiery. But I’d burn out for her in no time. Bianca is sweet, but a romantic. She’d end up disillusioned at best, heartbroken at worst. The best would be your eldest. Esmée. She’s the most patient. That’s what Zaun needs.”

Is that a glint of dread in Chross’ rheumy eyes? "She’s fond of you, too.”

“Of course. We share a common perspective.”

“That you are an inveterate monster.”

“Precisely.”

They trade practiced smiles. The subject is dropped, as it always is.

Web of Venom: Cult of Carnage #1 (2019)

written by Frank Tieri art by Danilo S. Beyruth & Andres Mossa

Pics from the cards that arrived yesterday… Man carnage is a fucking dweeb