#his hair is hard to draw o)-<< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[puppyeared]

wanna see a magic trick? 🪄🎩

[phantom-of-the-ruckus]

Dadbastian Sketch!

I finished plotting the backstory/and prequel for probably a project for next year.

I wanted to do some de-stress sketch, but also wanted to join the cool Dadbastian kids (Can I join you guys?/nf)

IDK the contest, but Seb is just holding the angry brat XD

[sluckythewizard]

FIIIINALLY almost nailed my designs for lizzie and caspian can i get a HEEEELLL YEAAH???? i think these two make a vvery cute duo and i cannt wait to see them again. i also hope they both get hurt reaaaallly really badly. togeter

[cosmosnout]

Ace art study/reference sheet thingy to help me draw him better!

[flowerakatsuka]

denki!kuroba has plagued my mind for the past 24 hours so it's time to drop their design & lore. ( bonus + more lore under the cut! )

( ya'll knew i had to find a way to shoehorn kurokara into this au SOMEHOW. )

while they don't meet during the events of six idol statues of taboo, kuroha does eventually get to meet chorosuke's recently reunited brothers afterwards. strangely enough, it seems that karatsugu knows who they are. kuroha's life before the accident was much like the one kuroba lives ; having attended college for horticulture and working at their grandfather's floral shop. karatsugu and kuroha had known each other for a long time, having become friends in high school and staying quite close into adulthood. because of this, he was absolutely devastated when they suddenly disappeared a year and a half ago while on the way to visit family in yokohama. there were no reports of any crashes or deaths, no missing people found, nothing. it was as if they were spirited away, never to be heard of again. upon learning this, kuroha is rather distraught. even though his face is so familiar to them, the past he recounts to them refuses to come back to them. something they had been keeping a secret from the others at the midorito estate was that they had begun to recollect some things, but what they remembered seemed more like strange dreams than any memories they should have. memories of traveling with mononoke, fighting in gang wars, fending off youkai, a life much like what karatsugu described but not exactly the same... and in all of those memories, the six same faces, so eerily similar yet unsettling different. the most prominent of them all being the faces just like karatsugu's. they aren't sure why these strange memories are all they can recall, perhaps they're finally losing it, but with the brothers' help, kuroha might be able to figure out the true meaning behind them and even remember their life in this universe along the way.

ALSO, a quick explanation of denki!kuroba's name!

( fair warning : my understanding of japanese is very rudimentary so i may have made some mistakes in my translation or how names are written. please let me know if that's the case and i'll correct anything i've gotten wrong! )

kuroba / クロバ -> kuroha / 黒葉 ( くろは )

kuroba's name is written in katakana while kuroha's is written in kanji ( with furigana written in hiragana. )

kuroba's first name comes from クローバー ( kurōbā ) meaning clover. when the dakuten from バ ( ba ) is removed, it becomes ハ ( ha. ) the equivalent of ハ in hiragana is は, which is used in the furigana for kuroha's name. the kanji used for kuroha is 黒 ( kuro ) meaning black and 葉 ( ha ) meaning leaf.

yotsubana / 四つ花 ( ヨツバナ ) -> shinigusa / 死に草 ( しにグサ )

yotsubana comes from 四つ葉 ( yotsuba ) meaning four-leaved, notably used in the japanese for four-leaved clover / 四つ葉のクローバー ( yotsuba no kurōbā. ) the kanji for ba in youtsuba is swapped for 花 ( hana, ) which can be read has bana like in the surname tachibana. as a result, their surname can be read as " four flowers. "

the 四 ( yo ) from yotsubana, which can also be read as shi, becomes 死 ( shi, ) meaning death. the adverbializer に ( ni ) replaces つ ( tsu. ) the kanji for hana is replaced with 花 ( kusa, ) which is lifted from a synonym for clover, 詰草 ( tsumekusa. ) kusa becomes gusa as an instance of rendaku. their surname can be roughly read as " dead(ly) grass. "

[littleredborb]

must protecc

[neptunesailing]

mayoi (enstars x hnk au)

[corpseofkingminos]

hi i drew harry please be nice to me i tried very hard

[fruitloid]

pda

[boygirlctommy]

i saw other people doing this so hehe art vs artist 2023 :D

[quanblovk]

Yamikage but in a kimono

[cloudsrust]

At this point me swapping the outfits of a duo/ship I love is just a staple of when I really get into something.

It's always just so- either hella sweet or funny. Ultimate comfort type of fanart fr.

[1980ssunflower]

bwahh miss eddie tbh

[sevenpocalypse]

A Xiao doodle I did earlier.

[shotmrmiller]

your superior finding out about the secret praise kink you didn't know had a name because you'd always been called an over achiever, a goody two shoes. never gave anyone any trouble, nose burrowed in a book since you had knobby knees and a library card.

you'd thought it normal that the apples of your cheeks burned when praised after giving your teacher the drawing you'd made for them the night before. that heat spread from the center of your chest up when your first boyfriend/girlfriend whistled at the sight of you outside of uniform. that warmth settles in your belly when you get a pat on the back from your platoon leader firm enough to force the air out of your lungs because you'd disassembled and cleaned a glock with the ease of a professional.

apparently it wasn't.

after weeks of training with the fabled task force, weeks of sharing elbow room with the team, weeks of soaking up the dizzying praise from the captain ("did real good out there, eh? can always count on you." you didn't question the throb betwixt your thighs, taking care of it with a cute little bullet like you've always done since joining the military)

you're confronted by the worst of the lot. ghost catches you in a break room, your back to him, hands clutching a cup of coffee that's more sludge than liquid, its warmth barely seeping through the styrofoam.

his figure fills the doorway, shoulders nearly brushing the frame. your first thought is that his brows aren't twisted together and he lacks that cold, blank look in his eyes so your death isn't in the nearest of futures. the second is that when he's not fully covering his face, the outline of his jaw is quite visible, looking sharp enough to cut.

then he crosses his sculpted arms over his chest, seams straining against the expanse of his muscles, head tipped to the side.

he moves with the keen curiosity of a predator sniffing around a newborn fawn, gaze intense yet inquisitive, assessing your every detail with a menacing interest.

"you ever gonna tell me you've a praise kink, bird?" the question sends a chill through your veins before turning into a fiery rush as it races at twice the normal speed.

praise kink? no. surely not. doesn't everyone like to receive compliments?

"sure. i don't mind gettin' told i've an impressive cock but that's bed talk. you look ready to bend over 'nd show us how slick tha' pretty cunt can get over a rufflin' of hair and a couple of empty words."

that has you positively reeling, fingertips cracking the cup in your hands, pulse on your neck fluttering. you feel a cornered, skittish animal, ready to flee lest your life come to an end in his maws.

but as usual, the cruel man more creature than person, twists the knife he's dug into you with a certain ruthlessness only he can muster.

"so be good for me, eh? love your praise? earn it."

you've always been an over achiever, proven once again by the way you take him to the root in one long, broad stroke with any complaints at the sheer size of him resting firmly behind your clenched teeth.

"tight little thing, spread open over me like you were meant for it. for me." he runs a gloved thumb over your swollen bottom lip. "there's tha' look. drivin' me bloody insane when you gave kyle tha' molten gaze. none o' tha' now, yeah?"

he creeps his ungloved hand down to circle your pearl with the spit-slick pads of his fingers, drawing in a sharp breath when your walls flutter and constrict around his cock at the feel of something other than your toy giving you the relief you need after a hard day's work.

"bloody fuckin' 'ell."

ghost claims a fistful of hair, pulling you closer to him, his breath warming the stinging, throbbing mark he bit onto the delicate skin of your neck. the shuffling of feet right outside the door snap you out of your daze, fingernails sinking into the bulging muscle of his chest but he has none of it.

he uses your hair to direct your focus back onto him and even though he'd only given you a leading tug you felt some strands of your hair come off with a pop.

"easy. can't see your pretty face when i'm fuckin' ya if your lookin' away."

your expression twists into what you hope is bliss when he bucks his hips, your whimper drowning out his groan when he hits on something new.

something you want him to keep hitting.

"exactly like i'd thought."

everything else blurs together after that, and only when you're back in your room using a warm cloth to clean yourself up do you remember the other things he'd rumbled.

(inside o' ya, make you mine-)

(-get 'bout bein' with anyone else-)

(-ll to myself-)

you touch your tender pussy with gentle fingers at what he'd said in the end.

(leave tha' f'me, he swipes your hand away, i'll get ya there, pet.)

if price's compliments take a nose dive off a cliff you don't notice because you're getting your daily fill of them and ghost after dinner every night. kyle keeps them to one word and soap likes to tempt fate as always.

[rqnarok]

dbf!logan ‘just the tip’ howlett.

cws/tags: smut, mdni! dbf!logan. daddy kink. unspecified age gap. unprotected p in v.

The clock almost strikes eight in the morning when the both of you are still lazily lying around on Logan’s bed, smelling like sex and secrets.

Forbidden—but you and him are too drowned in the intoxicated water to reach back into the surface.

Neither of you cares about anything else anymore.

“I can’t,” You whine at him, jutting your lips to a pout, your eyes trailing your eyes into his hard length in front of you, “‘M gonna - have to go home.” 

“C’mon, sweets,” He pleads as he palms your naked breasts in his large palms, rolling the peaking nipples in between his fingers, “How ‘bout just the tip, baby? Jus’ give Daddy a little taste, yeah?” 

You should’ve known that Logan’s older than that myth—that card to corrupt your innocence—but his guilt is buried deep by his desire, his primal need to have you that leaves him with little to no restraints.

Your doe-eyes is the only sign that he needs. 

A mark for your submission sent him spiraling that he had to bite his left cheek to hide his smugness.

Logan’s too old for this shit.

”O-okay,” You reply in a nod, meek and quiet, “But jus’ the tip, promise?” 

Logan doesn’t care if he’s too old. 

“‘Promise, baby.” Logan murmurs as he locks his pinky with yours. 

Logan is the biggest fuckin’ liar. 

“H-ah! More!” He’s got you on all fours, your saliva drips onto his pillows as you lost your energy to keep yourself up while Logan fucks you from the back. 

He grips your sides and uses his strength to manhandle your body back and front to his hard cock.

“So good f’r Daddy, sweetheart.” He groans so deep he barely recognizes his own voice, “So fuckin’ good, baby.” 

You are getting impatient with how he’s torturing you by drawing his length so deliberately slow so he can watch your velvet walls gripping him—before thumping it back in. Logan’s never satisfied until his hips are pressed flush to the fast of your ass.

Then, he repeats the process—snapping his hips forward, leaving you moaning out a high-pitched noise as your hands uselessly clutch at the sheets. 

Logan watches with pride as he knows that he’s the one who’s able to make you feel like this. The only one. 

He bends forward, his broad figure covering your trembling back, “Tha’ my girl. So fuckin’ sweet for your old man.” The head of his cock ruts along that gummy spot inside of you, “Now, wha’ dya say to Daddy?” 

Logan hears a weak muffled answer from when your head is buried.

“Hmm? Wha’s that, baby?” 

Gently, he cups your chin to tip your head just enough so he could hear your reply.

He hears a hiccuped sob—then—“Than’ you, Daddy.”

A throaty chuckle comes out of him as he presses a kiss on your messy hair, “Wha’ a good doll y’are.

Something in the way he manhandles you—the way this feels so taboo—makes your body spasm in his hold—toes curling as you reach your peak.

Logan tightens his grip around you when he feels how your warm walls are squeezing him. 

You both feel like living in an utterly different world in this euphoria that washes over the room. 

Suddenly this is the only home you’ve ever known.