#-.^ these drawings could Not get more indulgent

[bluessmutifyplaylist]

Pls pls pls pls pls Lilia with consentual sex with reader!!! He just wants babies (baby fever)

Warnings: AFAB!Reader, Breeding with the intention of impregnation, Reader is ovulating, Reader’s species is not specified (human or fae), missionary position

Lilia Vanrouge

Your wedding day. A day that you and Lilia were excited for. A day that the entire village was excited for. After all, a high-ranking general like Lilia getting married was a big deal.

However, what you both were actually excited for was the wedding night, where he carried you over the threshold of the door and into the cottage to begin your honeymoon. An entire month, as per tradition. Of course, there would be no consumption of honey mead, but an entire month of fucking.

He set you on the ground of your bedroom before getting started on removing your wedding dress and helping you take your makeup off and hair out. Then, he removed his armor, as he got married with it on, and laid you on the bed.

His lips met the sensitive skin of your neck, his fangs gently prodding it to elicit small gasps from your lips. Then, when he got to a particular area of your neck, he sank his fangs in far enough to draw blood before licking it all up.

Lilia slowly trailed his kisses down your neck… your collarbone… your chest… your stomach… before he reached your underwear. A lacy pair… but he didn’t have the patience to admire it as he ripped it off.

All of a sudden, he was hit by the alluring scent of your pussy. Fuck… you were fertile. All Lilia could see right then and there was an image: you round and pregnant with his baby. Babies. He wanted twins.

His tongue delved into your folds, and he put your legs on his shoulders so he could make sure you wouldn’t squirm as he indulged in your taste. Your thighs wrapped around his head, and he swore to all the Seven that he could die happy right then and there.

He feasted like a man starved, drawing moans, gasps, and choked sobs from you. 

“H-Honey… fuck!” You squeal as his tongue flicked against your clit, making your entire body tremble as you came all over his face.

When he pulled away from your cunt, he smiled and your juices glistened on his skin. “The first of many, my dear wife… Now, I want twins…” The look in his eyes made you realize that you would have a lot of trouble walking tomorrow morning… but that was irrelevant at the moment.

He shifted his body so that he was on top of you, grabbing his member to line it up. Despite his smaller stature compared to his soldiers, he had seven inches of pure pleasure. You would know: this wasn’t your first time with the fae general.

Once he started sliding the tip into your soaked pussy, your legs wrapped around his hips. You felt yourself seeing stars, and your nails dug into his back as he started pulling his member out before thrusting it right back in… where it belongs.

“My pretty wife… s-so full of my cock…” He whispered, your walls clenching down on him in the best way possible.

You felt so full with him… and you always felt so warm and loved despite him basically having to bully his cock into you each time he thrusted his hips forward.

“Lilia… fuck!... baby, please…” You couldn’t even make a coherent thought aside from ‘more’. You wanted him to get you pregnant. You wanted to swell and get round with his children. You wanted to be the mother to his kids… You wanted it all. But mostly, you wanted him.

Soon, he felt his cock throbbing inside of you, and as you clenched tightly around him, he thrusted more ravenously into you until you came again. Then, he spilled his load inside you, letting out a groan as he felt your walls greedily suck him in like a magnet.

For a few seconds, you both just sat there, him still inside you to make sure that nothing spilled out. He pressed kiss after kiss to your face and your neck, trying to bring you back down to Earth.

“You’re gonna look absolutely wonderful when you’re with child, darling,” He smiled softly down at you, pressing one final kiss to your lips. Then, he stood up to grab a warm towel and clean you up, making sure you weren’t all sweaty before going to bed. “Good night, my bride…”

[creamflix]

Hehehe I've been reading your works and everything is hella good, i love it frfr.

To ur Christmas event thingy,

Can i have Veritas Ratio with midnight kisses as nuaghty(😼)?

(Hehehe am i the first one to request? Loll)

Live, love, life ratio

♡

you’ve received a gift! ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ want your own gift? ・:〃➜ click here! 

the room was bathed in the soft glow of christmas lights, the air heavy with the quiet anticipation of the season. you’d spent the past hour trying — and failing — to convince VERITAS to partake in some holiday cheer, and now, your last resort was a simple request: a kiss on christmas eve.

“traditions,” he said, voice laced with disdain, “are little more than collective idiocy. a societal crutch for the unimaginative.”

you pouted, crossing your arms as you stood before him. “it’s not idiocy. it’s festive! romantic, even.”

“and you think coaxing me into this nonsense will somehow complete your holiday experience?”

“yes,” you replied stubbornly. “it’s christmas eve! you’re supposed to kiss your lover.”

he scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “if a man must rely on a contrived pretext to kiss his partner, he’s a fool. but —” he paused, his gaze darkening as it settled on you.

“i am not so heartless as to deny you. i accept... as would any man.”

your heart leaped as he rose from his seat, the predatory grace in his movements sending a shiver down your spine. 

“finally!” you beamed, stepping closer. “see? it’s not so bad.”

his smirk was slow, deliberate. “don’t celebrate just yet. you asked for a kiss, you’ll get a kiss. but i don’t intend to indulge this... lightly.”

before you could fully process his words, he pulled you to him with a firm hand on your waist, the heat of his touch instantly scattering your thoughts. his lips descended on yours, and the kiss was anything but festive — it was consuming. deliberate. the kind of kiss that demanded surrender.

you tried to keep up, your eagerness slipping into clumsy enthusiasm, but he pulled back just enough to chuckle against your lips.

“stumbling already? have you been this impatient all night?” his voice was low, teasing, and threaded with dark amusement. “perhaps i need to teach someone a lesson.”

his other hand slid up your back, fingers curling possessively as he tilted your head back, exposing you further to him. “a christmas eve kiss,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin, “should be unforgettable, don’t you agree? and if you’re going to plead for my participation, i expect you to do it properly.”

the words sent heat coursing through you, your body pressing closer to his as your breathing quickened. his lips found yours again, this time slower but no less intense, drawing every ounce of focus from you. 

“such impatience,” he murmured between kisses, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before pulling you into another. “you wanted this. now keep up.”

your hands gripped at his shoulders for balance as his lips trailed down your jaw, nipping and kissing with a precision that left you trembling. “i wasn’t... expecting —” you started, but his mouth covered yours again, silencing any protests with a kiss that was pure dominance.

when he finally pulled back, you were breathless, your cheeks flushed and heart racing. his smirk widened as he took in your dazed expression. 

“that,” he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction, “is how a true kiss should be. tradition or not.”

you stared at him, still catching your breath. “you’re... insufferable.”

“and yet,” he said, brushing a thumb over your swollen lips, “you begged for this. merry christmas, my love.”

produced by creamflix on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, modify, repost — support your writers by liking and reblogging. ♡

[shy-writer-999]

Hihi it’s ur girl! Could I please request a Crocodile x AFAB reader fic where he uses his devil fruit to control the moisture in the reader’s body (aka he makes her wet without even looking at or talking to or being near her). Tysm queen 💜✨🥺

my fair lady!! i’m so happy to write this for u <3 sorry it took so long, i know you sent this request ages ago. what i wrote is short and turns REALLY filthy at the end... hopefully that's okay! ~850 words and not edited much.

cw: afab reader w/gender neutral language. arousal, masturbation, penetrative sex, croc is mean/kind of a dom. minors do not interact -- nsfw content!

When you started seeing Crocodile in an intimate capacity, you noticed... changes. First, he was on your mind 24/7—the sex was just too good, he was too stern and suave, knew what he was doing and knew how to play with your body like you’d never experienced before.

And second, when he wasn’t around, you felt more feral than ever before, uncharacteristically rabid, so much so that you inexplicably got soaking wet and would have to squeeze your thighs together just thinking about him (multiple times a day).

The sudden and intense bouts of random horniness weren’t troubling, per say, but more so intriguing. You’d be minding your business and then out of nowhere you’d start feeling heat bloom between your thighs, sparks of arousal tingling as you quickly turned your panties and upper thighs into a saturated, sticky mess.

It took you far too long to put the pieces together and realize that Crocodile was responsible.

He got a sense of satisfaction out of controlling the moisture in your body with his devil fruit powers, and he had it down to a science. It was easy to make you wet and he happened to know that when he made you aroused, your body followed suit. He could tell that when he made you wet it felt good. Your body was giving into the sensation of wetness and, in turn, stimulating your brain, making you immediately and instinctively aroused. A positive feedback loop of sorts.

What amused him the most (and coincidentally got him the hardest) was using his powers to make you wet in public, when he was far, far away. But if he was up close, he'd study your face, the flush that dusted your cheeks, your shallow breaths, and distracted eyes. When you got to a certain point, he knew you would come to him.

Sometimes Crocodile teased you—he could tell that you needed him, could sense how much of a mess you were making out of yourself (and that he was making out of you), and he’d deliberately take away some of the moisture, effectively drawing out the time it would take before you lost self-control and came to him, begging him to do something about it.

Even more amusing to him was turning you away when he knew you were desperate for him. He’d shake his head, scoff (if he felt like it), roll his eyes or shoo you away to the bathroom. Imagining you taking care of yourself got him off beyond reason.

But when he decided to humor you, when he felt like indulging, he would do whatever he wanted. He’d throw you across his lap and make you beg for more, or make you straddle him on a chair and move you however he liked.

All the while, he made you ridiculously wet, so wet that you’d literally gush down your legs. Your juices were dragged down in rivulets by the cruel force of gravity, producing simultaneously embarrassing and pitiful puddles at your feet. He was entranced by those puddles. He even thought of bending down to lick them up or telling you to do the same.

Crocodile was just so mean about all of it. He had absolutely no reason to be this mean, this teasing, this scornful, but he just loved seeing you pout and beg, seeing your level of desperation rise until you decided you couldn’t take it anymore. He loved pushing you to the edge.

On occasion, Crocodile would make you take care of yourself in front of him. You’d blush crimson and be shy at first, never getting used to him just sitting there, astute, proud, and glowering. But he’d make you wetter and you’d give in, mouth hanging open in focus and brows bent at the middle.

He stayed still and watched with a sneer sometimes, not even shy about the fact that his erection grew by the second.

Another one of his favorite things about using his devil fruit powers on you was the sounds. The squelching noises sounded like music to him.

Crocodile could only hold out for so long before he had his way with you. And you weren’t going to turn him down. The thing about him was that he’d have his way with you for hours if he felt like it. He was almost incapable of doing quickies. Once he was inside of you he as determined to be there as long as he possibly could. Obviously, you had no problem with that and it was no trouble because even if he wasn’t using his devil fruit powers, he made you wet beyond what you thought was possible.

I didn't initially set out with the idea that this would be as filthy as it turned out, but what can I say!! The heart wants what it wants. I hope you liked it, queen! 🩷🩷

[athenaswisdoms]

𝑩𝑬𝑵𝑬𝑫𝑰𝑪𝑻, 𝑫𝑨𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑵𝑮

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒏𝒆

benedict bridgerton fanfiction (more chapters coming soon)

"...and as for Mister Benedict Bridgerton, one cannot be so sure. He has spent the last two seasons focusing on his artistic talents, according to the Viscountess Bridgerton. As the beginning of the season is upon us, there are countless young ladies and anxious mamas on the market for a handsome, and not to mention wealthy, eligible man of status. I will be keen to see if the second-eldest Bridgerton brother will follow in his older brother's footsteps of marriage. Dear reader, you shall be hearing from me."

I roll my eyes, tossing the most recent issue of Lady Whistledown onto the sofa beside me. I knew it was a waste of time, but I'd rather read it than allow my anxiety over the coming evening's ball to come to the surface.

Tonight was Lady Danbury's annual Four Seasons Ball; the first of the season. Not to mention that this was my debut into the eyes of the public in hopes to find a husband. At least that's what my mama liked to say. I more thought of it as a missed opportunity. A failure to indulge in an education and adventure. As much as my parents denied it, the search for marriage was an auction, and I was about to be led by the neck right into the ring.

Still lost in my worries, my maid, Clara, opened the door to the drawing room, startling me slightly.

"Sorry, Miss. I didn't mean to disturb you," she said formally, "but we must start preparing you for the ball."

I walked towards the door, sighing just quietly enough so that my father, looking over his business papers, wouldn't notice my dread. As soon as the door shut behind us, I looked to Clara and swore under my breath.

"My goodness, get that language out now because you'll need to be on your most 'ladylike' behavior for tonight," Clara joked.

Clara was just a few years older than I and we had developed a closer bond than my parents were aware of, and she had been consistently reassuring me for weeks that everything would be fine and to look for the positives. As much as I tried, all I could see was Clara striving to live vicariously through me, as I know all she had ever wanted was to fall in love. If we could switch places, I'd do it in a heartbeat.

After slipping on my gown overtop the numerous undergarments of frills and laces, I sat down in front of my vanity as Clara began on my hair.

"Love, once you arrive and get through the first dance you will feel much more comfortable. I assure you that all of the other young ladies are just as nervous," Clara comforted, " - and I'm sure some of the men are too."

I laughed, "I know, but I wish my mama and papa would've waited another year for my debut. I know that they support my studies and yearning for adventure, but I can't see why I must do this now."

"They only care for you and want the best life for you. I'm sure there's a man out there that will support your desires."

I shook my head slightly, thinking about the housewife I would be destined to become through the values of the men I know of.

"In our dreams, Clara."

. . .

The constant bumps of the carriage were the only thing keeping me steadily awake on the way to the ball. A coachman assisted me down the steps and I was forced to take it all in - the arched doorways underneath pillars atop a grand balcony, patios on either side, and tall windows that allowed light from inside to peek out from between the curtains.

The inside was stunning. Decorated to perfection with cascading carnations and crystal champagne glasses that reflect the candle light to allow the drink an even more golden essence. Priceless diamonds were cast upon the collarbones of young ladies, sparkling almost as much as their excited expressions. A shudder of hope ran through me, but only for a moment. Until the ribbon of a dance card was slipped over my gloved wrist by my mother. I looked down at the empty name slots, already plotting ways to circumvent the inevitable small-talk and stiff dances to come. Before I could become serious about a plan, Lord Clarke began to approach.

Lord Clarke shook my father's hand, then greeted me with a curt bow. I stood still until my mother reminded me to curtsey with a swat on the back of my arm. His name was promptly added to my dance card, reminding me of my previous plotting that I was becoming more serious about by the second. As I scanned the room for unwanted approaching Lords as well as a way out, I noticed the Bridgertons walk in the door to the ballroom. The new Viscountess Kathani Bridgerton on the arm of Anthony, Colin Bridgerton scanning the area, Eloise Bridgerton looking all but disgusted, and Benedict. I had practically forgotten about his presence in the Bridgerton family whatsoever until my Lady Whistledown endeavor this morning. He gave the impression that he preferred being out of the ton's line of sight. He didn't look ill at ease in any way as his other eligible siblings did - but instead, curious. I watched Benedict a moment longer before the orchestra began to play and I realized I must face my most dreaded moment of the last month: dancing.

Being the first name on my dance card, Lorde Clarke approached me once again. It's not that Lord Clarke wasn't a decent man. In fact he was just fine with his wealthy lineage, strong business, and perfectly acceptable character. He just wasn't what I was looking for. In fact I wasn't entirely sure what I was looking for. As soon as the dance began, I had suddenly forgotten my last five years of dance lessons; stepping on toes, falling out of rhythm, missing cues - it was dreadful. As soon as the dance ended I apologized to Lord Clarke for my clumsiness. Feeling overwhelmed, I scanned for the nearest hallway and hurried in its direction.

The dimly lit hallway was peaceful and quiet aside from the muffled music and chatter from the ballroom. I plopped down on the floor anything but gracefully, crossing my legs underneath my dress. I allowed myself a few deep breaths as I craned my neck to stare up at the patterned ceiling, counting the grooves of the decoration. The sound of footsteps broke my concentration and I attempted to pick myself up from the floor unnoticed.

"Oh, I'm sorry," a voice started. "No need to get up."

My gaze pierced through the soft lighting and into a pair of apologetic green eyes.

Benedict Bridgerton.

Despite his insists I still rose to my feet.

"Mister Bridgerton - sorry I-, uhm-," I stuttered.

"No, no. I had no intention of disturbing your peace, Miss... Jackson, yes?" he questioned.

"Yes, that's right. I only needed to get away for a moment," I explained.

Benedict walked towards me.

"I was doing the same. Since my brother, Colin, and I are the last unmarried Bridgerton brothers, we are being all but harassed by every eager mother here."

I laughed a bit more comfortably than I should have, but Benedict didn't seem to mind.

"I know Lady Danbury's home quite well as her and my mother have been close friends my whole life. I like to come look at the art she's collected over the years," he explained.

I hadn't even noticed the grand paintings on the walls until Benedict pointed it out. He was now stood next to me looking up at a large depiction of a Trojan battle. He continued to speak as he admired the painting.

"It was ridiculously difficult to get away from my family for a moment. Social events aren't really my scene, but I go to please them."

"I've been trying to convince my parents to let me wait another year to be out, but clearly my efforts were in vain," I replied.

Benedict pulled his eyes away from the artwork to look at me, his eyes studying my face.

"Are you uninterested in marriage?"

"No!" I exclaimed, blushing at my unintentional volume. "Sorry. No it's not that, it's just that I would rather have more time to live a more adventurous life. I wish for spontaneity and excitement before I devote myself to tending to a household and a family."

"Is that what you believe marriage to be? A never ending chore?" This was not an accusation, Benedict was genuinely curious.

"Isn't it?"

Before he could answer, the opening latch of a door sounded in the near distance. Neither of us had yet considered the scandal that would certainly emerge if the two of us were to be found alone and unsupervised, but our newfound commonalities felt so comfortable that the topic never emerged.

"We should get back before..." I started.

Benedict cleared his throat, "Yes, that would probably be wise."

"Until we meet again, Miss Jackson. And we shall."

Benedict nodded a goodbye, making his way back into the ballroom.

[bwamatoast]

we need more armpit tickling art../nf

so cruel... do we really....

[diurnalvl]

seven years ago, they used to be friends. almost.

1 / 2 / ?

[windydrawallday]

I enjoy sharing with @cometchasinglove headcanons about how Earthspark Starscream tends to be a flustered mess... but keeps most of these reactions to himself.

Except if taken by surprise... breaking his no-touchy personal barrier is the easiest way to achieve that.

[employee052]

this is your reminder to make ur cringy n self indulgent art bc cringe is dead and you gotta live life (I say, despite the fact i still feel a bit cringe but im being so brave abt it)

lettin myself post n do more art for myself so apologies for the more selfshippy art than usual

[lonichedgehog]

cowboy bebop x trigun crossover pls :3

Well anon, you didn't specify how the crossover needed to be so I indulged a little.

Thanks for the request! :>

[deviousdiesel]

here's a bunch of drawings from before and after my tablet died and when I tried testing out my new one. enjoy.

[poke-poke-poke]

XY

uh just one wip here-

i kept redoing the bg lol (one was water - one was a 'hall' of xerneas's antlers - one was a rainbow staircase with xerneas's colours-- etc)

but. i couldnt get them to look right (>_>)b

[rhania]

Found a WIP for a painting I didn't end up using for the GhostSoap zine I was a part of earlier this year, and felt absolutely compelled to finish it this week. Really wishing I had hnnngh. Couldn't decide how much paint to smear on his face, if any.

The png for his tattoo is taken from this post!

[cornhighlights]

I have to remind myself that I'm allowed to dip my toes back into other fandoms if I want-

[chitinleg]

so if someone was theoretically going to write a fic based off of the tags on that one very excellent garashir artwork you did... what would be a suitable villain role and/or scheme for garak to play? i know basically nothing about spy media and even less about james bond. i googled "most homoerotic james bond villain" and that was interesting but not helpful for this scenario... idk i want to really do this justice so i figured i could ask, since you came up with the idea in the first place and i guess that means this is a gift for you? and everyone else who liked that piece? thank you for your time :)

this is SUCH a charming question to receive!!! it's an honor that my art might inspire others to create! that said, here is my advice: i think you should follow your heart, mainly! i say this to everyone about everything but its very true, with writing especially, i think, you might want to write things that are especially interesting to you so that its exciting to keep going with them

personally, i don't watch a lot of spy media, i disliked james bond as a kid and i still dislike him now, so the character archetypes and plots from that wouldn't interest me enough to write a fanfic off of—i could read ds9 fic based off of them easily bc i love the ds9 characters!!! but. i couldn't write like that. therefore, i can't give you useful answers from that canon. i can give you this, but i don't know if it will be helpful: i think i would first start with the question—what about garak excites you? what puts you on the edge of your seat with him? what about julian—what actions do you like to see him take? what decisions of his make you giddy? how do you like to dig into his character? how do you like to dig into garak's? if you write down the answers to your question, it becomes the puzzle of how you can get everything you want out of the fic. the beautiful thing about the holosuite is that anything can happen at all, and while you're telling a spy story, it doesn't have to all be spy tropes. you could, if you wanted, play out a shakespeare play (your favorite shakespeare play, assuming you don't hate them all) as if it were a spy thriller! Sure, what's Twelfth Night as a spy thriller? We already have many characters playing with the fluidity of identity, going by different names, taking on different roles, gaining trust and acting on their own best interests. Just raise the stakes a little. is this insane? i feel insane. is it worth anything? i hope so. my ending point is: i am not so good at writing advice! i'm a much better drawer than a worder, but it's a gift already that you've said my art has motivated your desire to create!!!!!!!!! from there on—don't worry about what i want at all, don't worry about doing my work justice!!! take what excites you about the idea, take what excites you from your own ideas, and build it into something that makes you giddy to work on!!! i believe in you, and you have the world at your fingertips!!!!!!

[nosferatufaggot]

Becky Botsford jr high version is such a coin toss because I could totally see her leaning HEARD into academics and wanting to be taken seriously.........but you also cannot tell me she isn't wearing an alicorn onesie to sleep each night.

[beatcroc]

listen. i love pizza tower with my whole heart & mind. you know this. you Know. but first and foremost i am a character design bitch, and the pizzas are, frankly, very bland. this is not a critique or a complaint, because obviously That's Not The Point and more importantly i would be horrified if anyone tried doing that much animation with anything more complex than what's there. but also it means when i get a taste of some truly whack ass insane design work again it is like fuuuucking catnip