31 years old. I write and draw. Nonbinary, not picky with pronouns tbh. I'll post my original works here. Yes I am totally willing to do smut. Request whatever you'd like by dming me- be it D&D scenarios, your OCs, whatever. I play games, watch anime, read books/manga, listen to kpop, and watch kdramas. If you ever wanna chat I love making new friends! ❤
Playing catch-up on inktober, due to technical difficulties. Prompt 2- weave. The Seamstress weaving spines into Hornet's dress. I don't really like how it turned out at all, but hey, I learned some stuff, so there's that.
Synopsis- Dr. Zayne is getting rather frustrated with his busy work schedule interrupting time with his beloved wife. Smut- 18+ MDNI!!!!!
Word count~ Juuuuust over 2k
Warnings- smut, use of sex toy, voyeurism, Zayne is.... kind of a pervert??? Yearning. All the yearning.
Zayne had a problem.
One that became more and more apparent with each passing day. It only grew worse as the number of Protocore Syndrome patients increased.
Days off. Dates with his beautiful wife. His own birthday. All interrupted at the worse moments possible- when he finally got a moment to be with her. Kissing her. Feeling her warmth. Only to hear his emergency pager go off. Then it was off to another surgery with another life in his hands. Zayne didn’t used to feel guilty when being pulled from other obligations for such things, but his life had changed after her. He was still proud of his job, to be sure. His loving, all too forgiving wife was proud too. She insisted he didn’t need to make it up to her. That she knew what she was getting into when she chose to be with him.
Then she’d be left alone. Again.
The pressure and heavy guilt became too much when, of all days, it happened again on her birthday. On the drive home, when the long, exhausting surgery was done, he decided. If he couldn’t steal some time with her on his days off- if he couldn’t feel her himself- he would find a way to pamper her on days that he at least got to work from home.
After just a few more days of preparations, Zayne finally had everything he needed. It was the perfect day for it, as well. Eight reports needed to be filled out and sent off for filing, requests needed to be addressed, and emails needed responding. Busy, busy, busy. And his sweet wife prepared such a delicious breakfast for him. She was ready to kiss him and send him upstairs to his office.
“Work hard. I’ll be waiting for you with snuggles after.” She went on her tiptoes, puckering her lips and reaching for him. With a soft chuckle he stooped slightly for a small chaste kiss.
What she didn’t expect was how his arm suddenly wound around her waist so firmly when she tried to step away. How he went in for another kiss. This one deeper. Hungrier. Perhaps Zayne let his own pent up frustrations color the kiss. He stepped closer. Pressed her against the kitchen counter with his body. His lips moved with fervor, parting to breath her in and taste her. She smelled subtly floral, like Jasmines, and tasted like her favorite sweet tea.
She’d squeaked in surprise. Wriggled and tried to speak- to remind him he had to work. Then she sighed so sweetly as she melted into him. Only then, when she was giggling into the kiss and breathless, did Zayne slip something out of the pocket of his sweater. He slowly skimmed his fingers along the soft skin of her thigh, up under her baby blue sundress. Slowly- because while he wanted to surprise her, he wanted to allow her room to stop him, if he made her uncomfortable.
Those delightful fingers smoothly moved to her inner thigh. Goosebumps rose in their wake. A whimper left her soft lips. Her legs subtly parted. Zayne could feel her heartbeat hammering against his own. He smiled and kissed her once more before resting his forehead on her shoulder. Of course he’d gone and riled himself up. So hard and starving for her it was almost painful. But it would be fine. He would be fine. As long as she was taken care of.
Zayne slipped his fingers into her panties and pressed his little surprise into her folds, nestled against that bundle of nerves that made her breath hitch.
She whimpered. Her hands grasped at his soft sweater. At this point, her head was spinning, and her body was tense and buzzing with need. Zayne’s lithe fingers withdrew from her, leaving something smooth and cool-to-the-touch tucked in her wet folds.
In a daze, she tried to ask, “Zayne? What-”
Her husband sighed heavily, warm breath shakily fanning across her skin. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, “Be a good girl, and keep that there for me. A gift for you, Darling.” A gentle kiss to her neck and a soft whisper, “No peeking. And don’t touch. Just go about your day.” He lifted his head then, and met her eyes.
With a dizzy little “Oh, o-okay” the poor woman watched her husband go upstairs to sequester himself in his office. She huffed and fidgeted, all too aware of the cold little thing nudging her clit with every little move. Then, she did the only thing she could do. Went about her day. She moved to the living room. Her eye was immediately drawn to the floor to ceiling window of his office that overlooked the living room and entryway of their home.
There he was, working diligently at his computer. As always. She felt herself deflate bit by bit as she sat on the couch. Turned on the tv. Careful, of course, to not dislodge the mysterious little “gift” he’d left her with. He’d had a mischievous spark in his eyes as he’d slipped away from her. This, however, was just plain cruel. She wasn’t naïve- the little “gift” was clearly a special kind of toy. A little bullet. To wind her up and leave her with such a thing all day, expecting her to be able to watch tv or do anything else while he-
Zayne peeked down to the floor below from the corner of his eye. There she was, watching tv. Exactly where he hoped she’d be. Following the inane rules he’d laid out for her. “Such an angel for me…” he muttered under his breath. Next to Zayne’s keyboard rested a small black remote. Sleek and discreet. Only two buttons. One for intensity, the other for rhythm. Zayne briefly tapped a finger on a button, but didn’t quite press it. The inane rules he set for himself- for every competed entry he would switch the rhythm, for every completed form he would up the intensity. Now, he was simply waiting.
-while he worked? How was she supposed to focus on anything after he kissed her like that? With how pent up she already was from months of neglect? “What did I do to deserve this? This is just mea-” Suddenly, vibrations rippled through her core. The jolt of electric pleasure pulled a gasp from her. She gripped the couch cushions under her in surprise, thighs squeezing around the little toy. It only pressed more firmly against her clit. Warm, buzzing pleasure. Her wide-eyed gaze bolted to the office window, half expecting to see him looking down at her. Zayne was still working- back turned to her, hands moving smoothly over his keyboard. All she could do was weakly utter his name. It was a steady, solid vibration, but it suddenly switched and started pulsing. She whined and leaned forward, subconsciously chasing the pleasure.
Zayne dared to look out the window. She was still seated, but now doubled over and trembling slightly. His chest felt unexpectedly tight. His cock twitched. He forced himself to glance at the computer. A finished entry. He pressed enter. Then pressed the button. He noticed something that stole the air from his lungs. A subtle movement. Her hips were rocking.
A moan nearly forced itself from her throat. She bit her lip. With the roll of her hips she tried to match the rhythm, pushing and pulling the bullet along her soaked folds without directly touching it. But it switched up again- to a teasingly slow, then fast, then slow again pulse. She whimpered pathetically. Heat coiled in her gut like an angry snake. Her head fell back, her eyes squeezed shut as she fought the sounds rising in her chest. Why is he doing this? Is it to make up for-
Final entry complete. Click. Report sent. Click.
“Mmph-” A small cry threatened her, but she managed to bit her lip again before it escaped. He needs to focus! Quiet. Stay quiet. Hard to do when the pattern and intensity of the vibrations through her sensitive core switched and increased yet again. Intense, slow, long thrusts. She gripped the cushions harder, her knuckles turning white.
Zayne was staring at her now, entranced by her every tiny motion. His body ached for her. The air in the office grew colder, contrasting with his fevered skin. Work. He had to work. His fingers delicately traced the remote, as though he were the one touching her, not that little silicon toy. He tore his eyes away from her to look at his computer like it was the bane of his existence. Only eight reports to be filed. The directions said the toy had ten settings. It would be a shame to not let her experience every bit of pampering she deserved. When he looked back at her again, she was slumped against the couch with her eyes closed, panting, hips rolling, lower lip caught between her teeth.
“Why are you holding back, my love?” he whispered tenderly.
He broke his own rules. Click, click. Click.
The vibrations intensified to a punishing degree- too much at once. And the rhythm switched to something wicked- something that made it feel like the toy was thrusting hard and fast against her wet, throbbing clit. Forcing the air out of her lungs with the heated pleasure that built in her. Her lips parted and she let out the sweetest cry, muffled though it was by the glass and walls between them.
“Good girl.” Zayne praised her with reverence when her muffled cry graced his ears. He kept her like that for a while- torturous to her though it may have been. Another click to amp up the vibration. His eyes rolled and nearly fluttered closed as he listened, fists clenched so tightly his nails carved little crescents into his palms. Chilling frost crept along his too-warm skin, melting almost as soon as it formed- making him shiver.
Knots formed in her stomach, like elastic pulled and pulled and pulled too tight. Her pussy squeezed helplessly around nothing. With her eyes screwed shut in pleasure, she could picture him so clearly. Hair hanging in damp, silky tendrils over his eyes as he leaned over her. Muscles tense and twitching as he moved with her body. Scars decorating his skin. Those eyes. Those piercing, yet gentle, adoring eyes bracketed with tension and pleasure. If only she could feel those scars on that soft skin. Hear him say her name. Fill herself with his scent. “Please…. So cl-close- please, please, please- I-I’m-” she begged over and over, words lost in the thick, empty air around her.
“Close?” Zayne spoke through gritted teeth, his breath hissing quietly. Such a beautiful, pleading body. Such pretty, plush lips. So delicate looking from up where he watched her. Her thighs parted and her hands moved there- as if holding herself open for him, despite the cruel fact that he wasn’t there. The fabric of her sundress dipped between her legs, creasing and catching in all the right places. “So perfect, Darling. Just like that.”
Zayne stood from his desk; his cock strained against his black slacks. Small, sleek remote in hand, he walked slowly around his desk to stand at the window. “Just a little more.” He leaned against the window with his forearm. His free hand raked through his black hair before his forehead pressed against the cold glass, fogging up the glass ever so slightly with his hot, staggered breaths. He could practically feel her skin at his fingertips. Taste her on his tongue. What he wouldn’t give to have her wrapped around him. He groaned, cock twitching at the thought. “I love you. I love you.”
Click, click.
“Fuck, I love you.” He murmured a curse at the breathtaking scene that followed.
She screamed his name. Her head pressed back into the couch as a plethora of lewd moans and sobs raked out of her. Her hips lifted from the cushions. One hand bolted to the armrest, the other to the plush of the couch next to her head, gripping as if it was the only thing anchoring her to this world. The thrumming pressure building in her core released, filling her body with its tingling heat. Her eyes opened wide and locked with his.
Ice encroached at the corners of the window as if to frame him like a picture. He was a wreck, leaning against the window over her. Hair messied. Cheeks and ears flushed. Lips parted slightly as his chest heaved. Even from here, his tented bulge was evident. He was beautiful. Her whole body shook under his molten gaze. She watched his lips move.
“My good girl.” Zayne held her there for a moment, suspended in her prolonged high by the continuous pulsing vibration of his little gift to her. That little bullet that he was now growing jealous of. He pressed each button once more. Back to the initial, gentle settings the toy started on. Her body went limp, twitching every now and then with aftershocks. She glistened with dewy sweat in the sunlight that streamed through the windows under his office. For a few breaths, they stayed like that. Holding each other’s gaze. Soaking in what he’d done to her without even being in the same room with her. Pulse racing. Breathless. Then, with a subtle smirk, he slightly lifted his pointer and middle finger to flash the remote pinched between them and stepped away to return to his desk.
In truth, very few reports had actually been sent off. Perhaps this wasn’t the solution Zayne thought it was, but no matter.
Synopsis- Dr. Zayne is getting rather frustrated with his busy work schedule interrupting time with his beloved wife. Smut- 18+ MDNI!!!!!
Word count~ Juuuuust over 2k
Warnings- smut, use of sex toy, voyeurism, Zayne is.... kind of a pervert??? Yearning. All the yearning.
Zayne had a problem.
One that became more and more apparent with each passing day. It only grew worse as the number of Protocore Syndrome patients increased.
Days off. Dates with his beautiful wife. His own birthday. All interrupted at the worse moments possible- when he finally got a moment to be with her. Kissing her. Feeling her warmth. Only to hear his emergency pager go off. Then it was off to another surgery with another life in his hands. Zayne didn’t used to feel guilty when being pulled from other obligations for such things, but his life had changed after her. He was still proud of his job, to be sure. His loving, all too forgiving wife was proud too. She insisted he didn’t need to make it up to her. That she knew what she was getting into when she chose to be with him.
Then she’d be left alone. Again.
The pressure and heavy guilt became too much when, of all days, it happened again on her birthday. On the drive home, when the long, exhausting surgery was done, he decided. If he couldn’t steal some time with her on his days off- if he couldn’t feel her himself- he would find a way to pamper her on days that he at least got to work from home.
After just a few more days of preparations, Zayne finally had everything he needed. It was the perfect day for it, as well. Eight reports needed to be filled out and sent off for filing, requests needed to be addressed, and emails needed responding. Busy, busy, busy. And his sweet wife prepared such a delicious breakfast for him. She was ready to kiss him and send him upstairs to his office.
“Work hard. I’ll be waiting for you with snuggles after.” She went on her tiptoes, puckering her lips and reaching for him. With a soft chuckle he stooped slightly for a small chaste kiss.
What she didn’t expect was how his arm suddenly wound around her waist so firmly when she tried to step away. How he went in for another kiss. This one deeper. Hungrier. Perhaps Zayne let his own pent up frustrations color the kiss. He stepped closer. Pressed her against the kitchen counter with his body. His lips moved with fervor, parting to breath her in and taste her. She smelled subtly floral, like Jasmines, and tasted like her favorite sweet tea.
She’d squeaked in surprise. Wriggled and tried to speak- to remind him he had to work. Then she sighed so sweetly as she melted into him. Only then, when she was giggling into the kiss and breathless, did Zayne slip something out of the pocket of his sweater. He slowly skimmed his fingers along the soft skin of her thigh, up under her baby blue sundress. Slowly- because while he wanted to surprise her, he wanted to allow her room to stop him, if he made her uncomfortable.
Those delightful fingers smoothly moved to her inner thigh. Goosebumps rose in their wake. A whimper left her soft lips. Her legs subtly parted. Zayne could feel her heartbeat hammering against his own. He smiled and kissed her once more before resting his forehead on her shoulder. Of course he’d gone and riled himself up. So hard and starving for her it was almost painful. But it would be fine. He would be fine. As long as she was taken care of.
Zayne slipped his fingers into her panties and pressed his little surprise into her folds, nestled against that bundle of nerves that made her breath hitch.
She whimpered. Her hands grasped at his soft sweater. At this point, her head was spinning, and her body was tense and buzzing with need. Zayne’s lithe fingers withdrew from her, leaving something smooth and cool-to-the-touch tucked in her wet folds.
In a daze, she tried to ask, “Zayne? What-”
Her husband sighed heavily, warm breath shakily fanning across her skin. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, “Be a good girl, and keep that there for me. A gift for you, Darling.” A gentle kiss to her neck and a soft whisper, “No peeking. And don’t touch. Just go about your day.” He lifted his head then, and met her eyes.
With a dizzy little “Oh, o-okay” the poor woman watched her husband go upstairs to sequester himself in his office. She huffed and fidgeted, all too aware of the cold little thing nudging her clit with every little move. Then, she did the only thing she could do. Went about her day. She moved to the living room. Her eye was immediately drawn to the floor to ceiling window of his office that overlooked the living room and entryway of their home.
There he was, working diligently at his computer. As always. She felt herself deflate bit by bit as she sat on the couch. Turned on the tv. Careful, of course, to not dislodge the mysterious little “gift” he’d left her with. He’d had a mischievous spark in his eyes as he’d slipped away from her. This, however, was just plain cruel. She wasn’t naïve- the little “gift” was clearly a special kind of toy. A little bullet. To wind her up and leave her with such a thing all day, expecting her to be able to watch tv or do anything else while he-
Zayne peeked down to the floor below from the corner of his eye. There she was, watching tv. Exactly where he hoped she’d be. Following the inane rules he’d laid out for her. “Such an angel for me…” he muttered under his breath. Next to Zayne’s keyboard rested a small black remote. Sleek and discreet. Only two buttons. One for intensity, the other for rhythm. Zayne briefly tapped a finger on a button, but didn’t quite press it. The inane rules he set for himself- for every competed entry he would switch the rhythm, for every completed form he would up the intensity. Now, he was simply waiting.
-while he worked? How was she supposed to focus on anything after he kissed her like that? With how pent up she already was from months of neglect? “What did I do to deserve this? This is just mea-” Suddenly, vibrations rippled through her core. The jolt of electric pleasure pulled a gasp from her. She gripped the couch cushions under her in surprise, thighs squeezing around the little toy. It only pressed more firmly against her clit. Warm, buzzing pleasure. Her wide-eyed gaze bolted to the office window, half expecting to see him looking down at her. Zayne was still working- back turned to her, hands moving smoothly over his keyboard. All she could do was weakly utter his name. It was a steady, solid vibration, but it suddenly switched and started pulsing. She whined and leaned forward, subconsciously chasing the pleasure.
Zayne dared to look out the window. She was still seated, but now doubled over and trembling slightly. His chest felt unexpectedly tight. His cock twitched. He forced himself to glance at the computer. A finished entry. He pressed enter. Then pressed the button. He noticed something that stole the air from his lungs. A subtle movement. Her hips were rocking.
A moan nearly forced itself from her throat. She bit her lip. With the roll of her hips she tried to match the rhythm, pushing and pulling the bullet along her soaked folds without directly touching it. But it switched up again- to a teasingly slow, then fast, then slow again pulse. She whimpered pathetically. Heat coiled in her gut like an angry snake. Her head fell back, her eyes squeezed shut as she fought the sounds rising in her chest. Why is he doing this? Is it to make up for-
Final entry complete. Click. Report sent. Click.
“Mmph-” A small cry threatened her, but she managed to bit her lip again before it escaped. He needs to focus! Quiet. Stay quiet. Hard to do when the pattern and intensity of the vibrations through her sensitive core switched and increased yet again. Intense, slow, long thrusts. She gripped the cushions harder, her knuckles turning white.
Zayne was staring at her now, entranced by her every tiny motion. His body ached for her. The air in the office grew colder, contrasting with his fevered skin. Work. He had to work. His fingers delicately traced the remote, as though he were the one touching her, not that little silicon toy. He tore his eyes away from her to look at his computer like it was the bane of his existence. Only eight reports to be filed. The directions said the toy had ten settings. It would be a shame to not let her experience every bit of pampering she deserved. When he looked back at her again, she was slumped against the couch with her eyes closed, panting, hips rolling, lower lip caught between her teeth.
“Why are you holding back, my love?” he whispered tenderly.
He broke his own rules. Click, click. Click.
The vibrations intensified to a punishing degree- too much at once. And the rhythm switched to something wicked- something that made it feel like the toy was thrusting hard and fast against her wet, throbbing clit. Forcing the air out of her lungs with the heated pleasure that built in her. Her lips parted and she let out the sweetest cry, muffled though it was by the glass and walls between them.
“Good girl.” Zayne praised her with reverence when her muffled cry graced his ears. He kept her like that for a while- torturous to her though it may have been. Another click to amp up the vibration. His eyes rolled and nearly fluttered closed as he listened, fists clenched so tightly his nails carved little crescents into his palms. Chilling frost crept along his too-warm skin, melting almost as soon as it formed- making him shiver.
Knots formed in her stomach, like elastic pulled and pulled and pulled too tight. Her pussy squeezed helplessly around nothing. With her eyes screwed shut in pleasure, she could picture him so clearly. Hair hanging in damp, silky tendrils over his eyes as he leaned over her. Muscles tense and twitching as he moved with her body. Scars decorating his skin. Those eyes. Those piercing, yet gentle, adoring eyes bracketed with tension and pleasure. If only she could feel those scars on that soft skin. Hear him say her name. Fill herself with his scent. “Please…. So cl-close- please, please, please- I-I’m-” she begged over and over, words lost in the thick, empty air around her.
“Close?” Zayne spoke through gritted teeth, his breath hissing quietly. Such a beautiful, pleading body. Such pretty, plush lips. So delicate looking from up where he watched her. Her thighs parted and her hands moved there- as if holding herself open for him, despite the cruel fact that he wasn’t there. The fabric of her sundress dipped between her legs, creasing and catching in all the right places. “So perfect, Darling. Just like that.”
Zayne stood from his desk; his cock strained against his black slacks. Small, sleek remote in hand, he walked slowly around his desk to stand at the window. “Just a little more.” He leaned against the window with his forearm. His free hand raked through his black hair before his forehead pressed against the cold glass, fogging up the glass ever so slightly with his hot, staggered breaths. He could practically feel her skin at his fingertips. Taste her on his tongue. What he wouldn’t give to have her wrapped around him. He groaned, cock twitching at the thought. “I love you. I love you.”
Click, click.
“Fuck, I love you.” He murmured a curse at the breathtaking scene that followed.
She screamed his name. Her head pressed back into the couch as a plethora of lewd moans and sobs raked out of her. Her hips lifted from the cushions. One hand bolted to the armrest, the other to the plush of the couch next to her head, gripping as if it was the only thing anchoring her to this world. The thrumming pressure building in her core released, filling her body with its tingling heat. Her eyes opened wide and locked with his.
Ice encroached at the corners of the window as if to frame him like a picture. He was a wreck, leaning against the window over her. Hair messied. Cheeks and ears flushed. Lips parted slightly as his chest heaved. Even from here, his tented bulge was evident. He was beautiful. Her whole body shook under his molten gaze. She watched his lips move.
“My good girl.” Zayne held her there for a moment, suspended in her prolonged high by the continuous pulsing vibration of his little gift to her. That little bullet that he was now growing jealous of. He pressed each button once more. Back to the initial, gentle settings the toy started on. Her body went limp, twitching every now and then with aftershocks. She glistened with dewy sweat in the sunlight that streamed through the windows under his office. For a few breaths, they stayed like that. Holding each other’s gaze. Soaking in what he’d done to her without even being in the same room with her. Pulse racing. Breathless. Then, with a subtle smirk, he slightly lifted his pointer and middle finger to flash the remote pinched between them and stepped away to return to his desk.
In truth, very few reports had actually been sent off. Perhaps this wasn’t the solution Zayne thought it was, but no matter.
Hubby got me a new drawing tablet, so I had some fun playing with it. Drew my oc Lucky. Tried a new style and tried to be rough with it, as Lucky herself is a real rough and tumble kinda gal.
[ID: Large hand-drawn text saying "This user is fine with people drawing their ocs." Under the text is a doodle of a person giving a few small stickmen to someone else. The person says, "i give to you my blorbos, as a sign of trust." end ID]
Okay but for anyone who legit wants to know how to calculate it correctly:
The elbow joint on average rests a couple inches higher than the navel, so if you measure how long the distance is from the middle of the shoulder to that point then you have the length of the upper and fore arms!
So if anyone’s wondering about legs too, the simplest rule of thumb is that the length from the top of the leg to the knee is equal to the distance between the top of the leg and the bottom of the pectorals:
And I wanna stress that when i say “top of the leg” i’m not talking about the crotch (please don’t flag me tumblr it’s an anatomical term) i’m talking about the point where the femur connects to the pelvis, which is higher up on the hips:
It’s easier to see what I’m talking about in this photo of a man squatting:
So yeah if you use that measurement when using this technique you should get fairly realistically proportioned legs:
But remember! messing with proportions is an important and fun part of character design! Know the rules first so you can then break them however you please!
Drew my best friend's oc, Yunalesca/Luna. She's an Ishavalan woman made for Fullmetal Alchemist. I did a little experiment in the last pic with changing the line art color.
My friend wanted me to make a list of some of my personal Grimmjow HCs, then told me I should post it…. so here it is!
Minors DNI please and thank you~ The NSFW bits are below the cut~
*Grimmjow cannot cook. He has never cooked a meal a day in his life. Do not ask him to cook. Do not bring up cooking. Do not tell him he cannot cook. He will take it as a challenge. He will burn your house down. You’ve been warned.
*Yes, he has gotten a job within the past 12-13 years of being in the world of the living. Don’t ask, he’s not going to tell you. No one knows what the job is- all anyone knows is that Grimmjow disappears for days at a time, then has money when he shows back up again. Ichigo knows what it is, but keeps his mouth shut. Out of “respect”.
*Ichigo has grown to call Grimmjow a friend. Grimmjow refuses and continues picking fights with him. He claims the fights are the only reason he sticks around. This is false. Everyone knows this.
*Grimmjow lived with Kisuke for a short time upon first coming to the world of the living… He couldn’t stand the guy. He now lives in a rinky dink lil studio apartment above a hair salon. It is surprisingly nice and clean…. Because he is too restless and hardly spends time there anyhow.
*Kisuke initially gave Grimmjow a gigai with a natural hair color- a nice soft brown, bordering on blond- to help him blend in a bit more. Nope. Grimmjow was having none of it. He wanted his hair blue! Orihime introduced him to the hair salon that her and her friends go to all the time, and that was that. After going to that hair salon every few weeks to keep his blue hair looking good, the stylist offered him the studio apartment.
*Grimmjow founded a gang in the human world. Sort of. He is unaware of it. Ask him and he’ll just say it’s a bunch of humans that insert themselves into his business or pick fights with him sometimes. Ask them? He is the leader of the JaegerJacks, and they absolutely will follow him to the end of the earth. He doesn’t know how the fuck it happened.
*Grimmjow is… insecure. Incredibly insecure. Unlike his foolish past compatriot, Nnoitra, he refuses to blame his weaknesses on those around him. He carries the weight of his short comings on his own back, and constantly feels the need to make up for them and prove he overcomes them. Hence why he consistently chases the title “King”. Why when people follow him, he accepts them. To show that he can bear their weight too. He is strong. He will prove it. It is also why he is so incredibly competitive.
*In the end, despite pomp and appearance, Grimmjow is a very vulnerable soul, who simply builds his walls high and surrounds himself in fighting to keep that vulnerability hidden… but, should someone fight through it, and climb those walls, they would be treated to a beautiful sight… and an unbelievably loyal man.
Not everything you draw has to be "good". Spat this gremlin out today when I was just trying to get back into it and have fun. 90's cartoon vibes maybe? Lolol ah, well, it was fun.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
That oneshot I wrote is on AO3 now 😊❤
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Tokyo Ghoul
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Uta (Tokyo Ghoul)/Original Character(s)
Characters: Uta (Tokyo Ghoul), Original Characters, Original Non-Binary Character
Additional Tags: Fluff, Pining, tells, hints of spice, Nonbinary Character, Fanfic, NSFW, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Smut, Short, Short One Shot, Short & Sweet, One Shot, Established Relationship, named character - Freeform, My First AO3 Post, Constructive Criticism Welcome, Chinese Character, Original Character(s)
Summary:
Qiu finds themself, as ever, in Uta’s mask shop, resting after work. They get caught doing something they know they probably shouldn’t do.
izzy806
origamiaround
jacobvanloon
dailybridgerton
