#good enough?

[birdcage6]

Being treated like a princess keeps needy girls like me wet and excited all hours of the day. Daddy knows that. Uses my own pussy against me. He taunts and teases me all day long…proud of himself when I whine for him, knowing he’s going to keep me on edge. Knowing he’s going to say no to my advances. It pisses me off, and eventually manifests into a nasty attitude. Answering back to my Daddy, calling him names, smacking him when he tries to get close. There’s never a reaction…at least not yet. Once the sun sets, a couple drinks in…that’s when he gets me. Strong arms pulling me in, spicy cologne trapping me in a haze. Sweet whispers of how soft, and warm I am. How nicely my ass sits in my jeans. His big hands grab at my tits, making me moan and arch my back. I’m begging for him to fuck me. He’ll lead us to our bedroom, condescension thick in his tone. “Take your clothes off, angel.” He’d say. I’m quick to obey, stripping down to nothing, eagerness written into every limb. I lay down, spreading my legs, fingers already dipping into myself. Soaked. I watch in confusion as Daddy drags a chair in front of our bed, sitting down and taking up all the space, my arousal lurching violently as I realize this is my punishment. “Go on, princess. Fuck yourself, and make it good. Don’t want me finding another pretty little girl, right?” His question sets my brain on fire, fingers twitching with the urge to be violent. How dare he?

…

My cunt aches to be touched. Our marital bed has become a porn studio. Every move I make observed and judged based on how much he likes it. Daddy can be so mean. I resume my touching, propping my legs higher so he can get a good view of my hole pulsing his name, cock sat heavy in between his thick thighs. It isn’t enough, but I try anyways, fingers stretching my poor pussy..other hand fondling the tits my Daddy loves. He barks demands when he wants me to change positions.

“Get on your knees now, sweetheart, show me that pretty ass of yours.”

“Come sit right in front of me. Shake those fat tits.”

“Open your mouth, little girl. Say ahhh.”

My moans are desperate, pitchy and stupid. He laughs whenever my legs twitch, a sign I’m close. “Stop it, slut. Didn’t say you could cum. Only good bunnies get to finish up.” My punishment would go on for hours. Pleasure and deprivation working in tandem to break me down. Chest heaving, tears slipping down my face, lips quivering with overstimulation. “Daddy, please. Please fuck me, I’m sorry,” I’d gasp, flashes of my behavior coming back to haunt me. Perhaps he’d recognize that I’ve learned my lesson once I start sobbing, once my hand isn’t even on my clit anymore, and I’m just rubbing on his favorite places to touch me, chasing ghosts of sensation. His own dick would be red from holding himself back, my recognizance shooting through him like a bullet. Daddy would forgive me, and slide home, not a single ounce of resistance…my cunt all loose and sloppy from the torment. Edging has never been my forte. Being deprived of his touch soo deliciously cruel... very interesting game this evening

[justanotherrandomposter]

I want to show everyone my new cool bee cushion.

[shiraishi--kanade]

And to the left you can see me, attempting to evenly distribute the cards throughout the first rotation of KWKO and failing horribly

[celestialvix]

Ask 9 please?!?

9. What are you currently trying to improve?

Aha, hmm...everything, honestly ^^

I've fallen into another one of my slumps where I struggle with my art and just aren't satisfied with it so I'm taking the time (and what little energy I get sometimes) to reference a lot of my favorite artists art! Doodling and drawing so I have a little digital sketchbook on my tablet with some doodles.

Nothing special, just some WelcomeHome doodles and Undertale along with my respective Sona.

Probably mostly anatomy, though! Facial expressions and all

(I don't think I'm ready to relearn backgrounds yet )

BUT it's also important that if you wish to improve on ANYTHING do not be afraid to look up references for anything! ^u^

[2usan]

Why don’t you base a Narnian celebration after the Christian story behind Valentines Day?

because i don’t want to

[countably-infinite-rats]

mmmmm gonna start tagging things bc why not

[sh1tbird-shantytown]

and now, because you all wanted steve to go to billy at the wedding…this:

Billy sat beside Max and Lucas and Dustin and Joyce Byers. He was dressed in dark blue and his hair was frown out to his ears and curly. He had glasses and wrinkles around his mouth and eyes. He had three teeth missing from when he did competitive boxing in his mid-twenties. And, the thing Steve most noticed, he never stopped smiling.

Benny had always known Billy Hargrove as “Uncle Billy” and, after Madeline passed giving birth, Steve allowed Billy in like a second parental figure. Billy taught Benny how to cheat on tests, dress for an interview, and cook. And, while Steve’s taught his boy next to everything else, “Uncle Billy” was more than just a friend. And the term “brother” never really fit either.

Steve finds it painful to think of how many years they’d wasted wanting and almost going for it. But, when you’re thirty, what your parents think matters and your kid is the only thing that matters in your life. And then when you’re forty, you’re too tired and busy making school lunches and taking the shifts no one else at work wants. And then fifty rolls around and you think “might as well” just as the other one gives up and backs off. Billy started dating a guy named Seth when he was fifty three. They lasted three months for “personal” reasons. And while you’re sixty, life seems like a really narrow water slide that should be breaking safety code violations.

In Steve’s own, personal, experience, Billy’s the water slide that winds around and around and around in arcs that make your head pop up over edge and moves you around all over.

So, Steve looks at Billy in his suit he wore to Benny’s high school graduation six years ago and the carnation Steve carefully stuck into his pocket before he’d left the foyer to find Benny pacing in his dressing room, and he cries. Quietly. Of course. He’s been doing it like that for years.

And leave it to Billy Hargrove to look up and catch him. To look shocked and see through all the foggy emotions Steve’s feeling. And mouth, ‘Are you okay?’

Steve smiled tightly and felt his ears pop as the bride’s entry began, and he nodded. And in the last seconds he had, he kissed his fingers and held them out towards Billy.

—

“I think I fell in love with you at twenty seven, when you got Benny’s third grade report card. And it was awful. Like, that kid didn’t pay attention any day of the week back then and you could tell. But you sat down, like you weren’t even phased. Like you didn’t care even a little bit. And you told him the consequences. Not yours, but in real life. You’re made love and caring about decisions and honesty. And that’s who you are, Steve. You’re honest and loving and you’ve never blamed a person on their behalf once in your life.”

Steve’s had snot running around his nose and a bundle of tissues wrapped around the lower part of his face to catch the tears, “I’ve got you beat, Billy.”

“How’s that?”

“You remember that day I walked in on you in that hospital room and you were trying to figure out how to put the grown on while only in your boxers?”

Billy faltered and put his cup of soda down on the table in front of them, “Yeah?”

“I was gone, and have been, for you since that day.”

“We’re idiots, Steve.”

Steve shrugged and leaned into Billy’s kiss.