#thank you 🌸

[foreverambrosia]

👀?

I'm suggesting Nathaniel Hawthorn

He's from B.SD. He's a bit surly and annoyed, but has a strong inner determination. He does care about his friends too. He's also a priest, and I know you enjoy your priests, lmao

His special ability is called Scarlet Letter and it is blood manipulation.

He's a dork.

Also throwing out Sampo from H.SR I was just feeling him. 🤷‍♀️

He's a criminal but way goofy 🌸

[cosmicatta]

💐 once you receive this lovely bouquet of flowers you have to mention five things you love, publicly, and send it to 10 of your favorite followers if you want. SPREAD POSITIVITY! ⛅️

This is so sweet, thank you so much!! 😭💜

Here are my 5 things that I love:

My cat!

Opening a new book for the first time

Kendo practice on Thursdays

Getting so immersed in a story that I start giggling and pacing around

Stargazing

[dapper-shipping-forever]

🌼, 🎁, and 👻?

Answered the first two ! Check out my previous ask I posted !

👻

Absolutely I do. Pretty sure I've seen and felt a good couple. I am fascinated by paranormal things, and often think I would enjoy visiting haunted places though also know better than to mess around too much with all that as well yknow.

[rosicheeks]

happy birthday! if i was slightly less broke i’d actually get you something lol so instead my gift is this: you should take care of yourself today 💖 get a little treat if you can, spend some time lying down resting, play a game or do something fun, just try to make the day a little more fun, if that’s at all possible? and if it’s not, then just read this and know that there’s a dorky trans girl a few hundred miles or so away who’s really rooting for you, and who’s hoping to brighten your day a little with this ask 😘🥰🥰🥰 take care rosie! happy birthday, and happy pride month!!! 😘💖💖💖🥰🥰🥰💗💗💗💖💖💖🥰🥰🥰😘😘😘🥰🥰🥰🥰

-🌸

[robo-milky]

SAVANACLAW ROOK SAVE ME…

He has arms for days…

[jesuistrestriste]

art is the MESSIEST kisser ever like if u make out his spit is literally everywhere. like he'll kiss u on the mouth then keep on kissing ur neck but w the wettest kisses ever. and i JUST KNOW he def drools. like when u give him head and his head is resting against a pillow, he's so lost in it that he can't even think. like the only thing he can do anymore is whimper and moan like a little bitch. and when u look at him u see him drooling all over the pillow😭

art donaldson has a messy mouth. he drools when it feels too good, he kisses with almost too much tongue when he's desperate, and his warm, eager lips are always on your skin whenever he gets a chance to touch you properly.

he practically salivates like a thirsty puppy on a hot day. it pools under his tongue whenever he catches a glimpse of the more intimate areas of your soft skin; the nape of your neck, your stomach, your inner thighs. and he has to try desperately to swallow it down when you two are in public and he can't get his lips on you.

the first time you and art made out, it was very sloppy. you thought this mightve been a result of minor inexperience on his part, or nervousness, or excitement, so you let it happen. you let him moan into your open mouth and grab at your shirt while he slid his pink tongue over yours. you let his sticky saliva mix with yours as your mouths mashed together. you let him kiss you and kiss you and kiss you until he came in his pants.

the whole ordeal lasted about 7 minutes.

after that, you had assumed that—in time—he'd get more reserved with his mouth as you two continued to be intimate.

but this didn't happen.

if anything, he only got more comfortable with you, and thus only became more orally-fixated and messy with his mouth.

he liked to suck on your fingers during sex.

he liked to slather your arousal with his spit when he went down on you.

he liked to kiss you wetly all over your body before bed.

he liked yearned for it all.

when you'd give him head, your slick lips bobbing over his tip and swallowing salty dribbles of precome, he'd drool all over whatever was near his mouth. it was just too hard to focus on not drooling when the warmth of your tongue got him close so fast. his eyes would get lidded and his knees would grow weak and his mind would turn to mush the second you started to blow him. sometimes you'd have to hold his hips to keep him steady. he was very predictable.

one thing you two like to do together is have art get on all fours on the bed, knees spread apart with his cock hard and hanging between his thighs. his hands will go up and squeeze onto the pillows as he lowers his head and lets you jerk him off.

it’s kinda demeaning, in a way; being milked like a cow.

but you like doing it to him, and he likes whatever you like, so he loves this.

when your hand starts to stroke his cock, strings of pre leaking from his slit, his arms will usually start to shake. it'll start at his shoulders, and then go down to his elbows, and then end when his wrists can't hold him up anymore. he'll let himself collapse down onto the cushions without more than a whine of protest and a renewed tint of pink across the bridge of his nose. his head will lay on one side of his face, his lips parted to let out whimpers and whines as his hips jolt, and then it’ll start.

he’ll drool.

all over.

down the side of his face, over his bottom lip, down his chin. it all happens depending on how his head is positioned. but he always, always, always slobbers on the pillow a little.

just as his eyes start to roll back, and his pelvis starts to shallowly move to thrust his cock into your moving grasp, his sweet and sticky saliva will dribble down his face someway and soak into the pillowcase.

he can't help it.

because, again, you make it hard to pay attention to anything other than how good you make his dick feel. it throbs in your hand.

when you catch a glimpse of his drooling, you usually smile and speed up your touch.

"Art, baby-" you'll coo to him, "drooling."

and he'll know right away what you mean.

"Anghh— feel s'good, s'good— 'm sorry, 'm sorry," he'll inevitably slur.

he'll try to wipe it with the back of his hand, but he's usually shaking too much for that to do much of anything. it more just smears the transparent fluid across his flushed face.

slurp. wipe. whimper.

a few more strokes of your hand, and a thumb pressed right under his cockhead, is all he needs to let go after that point.

his eyes will roll back as he cries out and bucks into your fist, shooting and coating the bedding underneath with his load. he'll tremble and whine until his hands grasping at the sheets below have the instinct to fly between his legs and stop the overstimulation. you generally let up soon after he makes that known.

after you clean him up and ease him into bed, he'll make sure to kiss you goodnight. and it's messy and needy and a little bit too much, but you let him do it anyways. he's eager to please, and he's eager to show you how much he appreciates the way you take care of him. he’s just eager.

maybe one day you'll get sick of how much tongue he uses when he kisses, but you doubt it. it’s just so perfectly him.

[jkvjimin]

pouty lips and :] yoongi for @yooboobies ♡ cr. namuspromised

[pixlatedvampire]

Someone come help me kill my ghoul and skeleton so I can have Ragnvaldr and Cahara in my party

[darlingcloudie-9]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KANAO TSUYURI I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU!!! :heart:

[foreverambrosia]

💌 for gojo/gill backstoryyyy

https://drive.google.com/file/d/17hfMFfciuWoUvbFYw_Gq40Fi2Ajn28mt/view?usp=drivesdk

I should write notes before recording these lol

[cosmicatta]

Thank you so much for +100 kudos on Seashell Lovers! 🐚

I was extremely nervous to post this fic, and also I've been feeling a little bit down about my writing lately, so knowing that many people are enjoying it is very comforting ❤

Read here

"And only a few months later, Law is coming undone under him as he accepts that love without complaints, over and over again. He has become addicted to it. Take me and rebuild me until I am yours only. I want to be born again in your arms."

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: One Piece (Anime & Manga)

Relationships: Monkey D. Luffy/Trafalgar D. Water Law

Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Bottom Trafalgar D. Water Law, Top Monkey D. Luffy, Fluff, Non-linear Narrative, Metaphors, Non-graphic Smut, POV Trafalgar D. Water Law, Mild Hurt/comfort, Porn with Feelings

[dapper-shipping-forever]

do you have any images that make you think of the royalty au? how abt for the deity au??? do ppl still worship the flower goddess and the sun god??? how did gillian and vash “fall from grace” in the first place? will they ever uncover their memories from that past life??? how did they wind up where they are now??? does LYRIC ever remember?? (i feel like if he did, he would use this power for evil, somehow…) OH, idk if i’ve ever asked this, but does lyric ever try to blame vash for something and/or try to get him kicked off the princess’s guard??? ((btw, idk how clear i’m being rn, so if you have any questions abt the clarity of my ask, lmk 😭😭😭))

The first few are some for the royalty side and the later images are like the deity side

Becoming human was directly because of Lyric, essentially; he was trying to hide himself and Gill after finding her from Vash, debating I'd it was fully on purpose or Vash like interfered and they became human. But Lyric and Gill became human and Vash tried to follow. Nai tried to interfere with him making himself human as well and Vash became like corrupted. But the transition wasn't instant, and it was a decent while later they properly all became human; nobody is like super sure when those gods seemingly vanished, but it's been a while. Lyric made certain that he and Gill would be reincarnated near each other, and it was Vash's wish to find her that made him and nai, who just wanted to stay near Vash, be reincarnated close enough and find a decent path to her too.

They do remember they are gods, Lyric remembers first and Vash and Gill later, Nai remembers before Vash and Gill too. Lyric I am thinking remembers after he has tried to duel Vash, he planned to secretly but pretend to accidentally use a real and not fake blade, but Gill noticed and took the slash from him; after that Lyric reveals he did it on purpose and is put in a jail. There, I am playing around with a subordinate who Lyric kinda pushed around snapping and trying to stab him and right when the tip touches Lyric he in almost self defense remembers who he is. His powers increase and he breaks out; he had been numb after injuring the princess but his memories renew his desire to keep her away from anyone but himself. He isn't as powerful while human but significantly stronger than he was before regaining his memories of being a deity. Definitely not satisfied leaving them alone lmao

If it was just royalty, Gill like would've just taken his nobility and job from him and sent him to some far city to be punished. But with a deity identity he's just enraged Vash had followed them.

Lyric does get kinda underhanded. Mostly, he tries selling Vash as just incompetent. He wants Gill to see himself as superior. He also tries convincing Vash she's just like kind to him out of her feeling like she needs to. When Lyric does do something nefarious, he does try and plant the idea that Vash had a hand in it, but somebody vouches for him. Lyric is just like continuously mad as he often just fails to part those guys lmao

[lecialucille]

☆⌒(>。<)˚* ☆ *･˚* ☆ *･🌟🌸(^人<)〜☆ 🌸°☆~🍡~☆°🍵

[clj-art-blog]

DFQC and XLH | Art for yoshi09/@live-he-says

River of Stardust GENRE/TAGS: Romance, Fantasy, Action/Adventure, Gapfiller fic, Fix-it fic, drama-canon compliant, post-canon, check the potential warnings but I promise it’s a happy ending, is it a gapfiller fic if it's filling gaps for after the drama ends and also for 180k years before? PAIRINGS FEATURED: Main pairing: Dongfang Qingcang/Xiao Lanhua, side pairings: Xunfeng/Danyin, Shangque/Jieli MAJOR CHARACTERS: Dongfang Qingcang, Xiao Lanhua, Danyin, Xunfeng, Shangque, Jieli, Changheng, Siming, Yunzhong RATING: T: Teen And Up Audiences WARNINGS: Canon-typical Major Character Death, canon-typical violence, no plot armor for side characters, bugs (butterflies) SUMMARY: Post-canon fic starts about two weeks after the finale, when DFQC is reincarnated.

Changheng goes missing in search for his banished mother. Xiao Lanhua and Dongfang Qingcang must postpone their wedding day as they embark with Danyin, Xunfeng, Shanque, and Jieli in their quest to find him. Their search will take them to the deepest depths of the Memory Loss River, the swamplands on the outskirts of Haishi City, and to the stars beyond the Destruction of Heaven.

For @lbfad-minibang

[robo-milky]

Rook

Oh nooooo~ What’s this? My legs are suddenly giving out after 1 second of running?! Pwease Master Mr. Hunt, go easy on this poor, delicate, helpless cat maid— won’t you? How can I possibly have the energy to indulge you in a hunt after a long day’s worth of chores?! 🥺🥺

[jesuistrestriste]

Tying subby Art down to the bed with ribbons, edging him over and over because he was being a fuckin brat. He'd look so damn pretty with tears staining his cheeks, just begging, "Please, mommy, please! I promise ill be good!" Crying harder when you slap him, telling him to shut the fuck up and stop whining (i KNOW this man whimpers)

Art Donaldson had known this was coming. Or, he really should have. He’d gotten mouthy with you. If he had corrected his behavior, he wouldn't currently have his arms tied up to the bed while you straddled his thighs and made his life a living hell. Sigh, if only he had just thought ahead.

His little quips of mumbled attitude throughout the day had made you grow increasingly frustrated. And they were so incessant that you had started to wonder if he was doing it on purpose. The last straw came when he had said something along the lines of "can you please just fucking touch me? you're being so rigid right now.."

Oh? He wanted to be 'fucking touched'?

He thought you were being 'rigid'?

Fine. You'd give him something to really whine about.

-

And that you did.

Art's body is shaking furiously under your seat over his legs, his hips jolting and squirming over the bed as his head tips back and he sobs. Big, fat, heavy tears pour down the sides of his face, but they did nothing to convince you to relent.

Your hand had been furiously stroking his aching cock for the past hour and a half. It was brutal. The stiffened, throbbing flesh had gushed more spurts of precome than you could ever count or keep track of, and it was now coated in a slimy film of his own filth mixed with the water-based lube you poured over him every fifteen minutes to keep him slick.

You had denied him ten times so far. The tears had come after the fourth denial. It was all downhill from there.

He's now crying so hard that his chest is heaving, but you opt to rub your free hand over his contracting abdomen as you touch his erection instead of letting him come. Because, after all, he'd been a brat all day. He deserves this. Deep down, under the layers of faint resentment, desperation, anguish, and hopelessness, even he knows he deserves this.

His blonde curls are a mess against the pillow, and his wrists are starting to feel raw from the constant tugging on the thick, satin ribbons holding his hands in place and away from his body (and yours). All that truly keeps him from bucking up into your hand the way he so desperately wants to is your firm seat over his trembling legs. You keep him in place. You keep him grounded. Physically, if not mentally and emotionally.

As your hand moves up to quickly fist his sensitive tip in your grasp, a slurry of precome comes dribbling out and Art's body all but snaps in half as his back arches up from the mattress and he lets out a wail of a moan.

"Please!" he cries, his head thrashing against the plush cushion underneath, his hands once again involuntarily yanking at the bondage, "Ugh—! I can't do any more! No more! N-No more!"

You smile.

He hiccups and tries to swallow down another sob before he chokes on it and it comes tumbling out from his lips anyway.

If he really wanted to stop, he'd say the safeword. Even in the most intense depths of his submissive mindscape, he could say the word to you. Through tears, through thrusts, through anything. So you didn't stop. He could take some more.

You shake your head, your hand on his abdomen rubbing in slow, comforting circles as you look over his flushed body. Your hand on his pulsing length twists around his cockhead as your wrist rolls, and your palm glides over his leaking slit in one long, languid stroke. He immediately keens and his eyes roll back as he tugs at the ties again.

"Be quiet, Art," you say, your hand circling his tip before it goes back to stroking him fully up and down, "you're fine. You were a bad boy today, so do you really think I'm gonna let you off so easy? Be still."

He starts to shake his head as he whimpers, his eyes squeezed shut, before he nods reluctantly and tries to steady his twitching and shuddering.

He wants to grab your thighs, your forearms, or, hell, even the sheets. He'd grab whatever was available at this point if he could, but he can't. So he settles for wrapping his hands around the length of ribbon that connects each knot around his wrist to the appropriate spot near the headboard.

He'd torn his hands up on multiple occasions from playing tennis. The stinging callouses that bled when he carried on without bandaging were more tolerable than this. By far. He'd take a handful of those over any more of this agonizing torture. And he'd say this to you if he could speak instead of bawl. Maybe then you'd believe how badly he needs to finish.

He manages to pull himself together just enough to lift his head up and look to you as he miraculously slurs out some words through his tears. Two fresh ones drip down his pink cheeks as he attempts to barter with you.

"Please— Oh, please—!" he whined, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made you feel hot all over, "I promise I'll be good now! I swear-!"

You frown and stroke him faster, before your hand over his stomach lifts up and you lean in to swiftly slap him across the the face. It was hard enough to make a sound, but certainly not hard enough to do any actual damage to his pretty cheek.

Just hard enough to hurt and make a point.

His head snaps to the side with the force of the hit, a red tint beginning to creep over his delicate skin, and he lets his head fall back onto the pillow again. A loud, painful whimper erupts from his chest as new waves of tears fall.

Impact-play is something he enjoys, especially during times like this, but he makes that hard to believe when he only goes and cries harder in response.

"You seriously need to learn when to shut your mouth," you snap, "no more whining or I'll just leave you here like this for the rest of the night."

"Nooo," he sobs in defeat. Your words burn him, but they burn so good. His orgasm is creeping in quickly again, but he knows you'll stop it before he gets there.

If you pay attention, it's easy to observe that Art has tells for when he's about to release. He goes from loud moans to stifled, shaky gasps that increase in pace and frequency. He goes from harsh jolts and convulsions to being stiff as a board. His body's sensitivity lets him be an open book. He's an easy read, that's all. And oh boy, can you read him well.

His bodily reactions and habits—at the very least—make your job easier. If he was less sensitive and less reactive, you would have a much harder time edging him properly. That's for sure.

Eventually, after two more denials, you decide to let him finally finish. He almost doesn't believe it when you keep stroking him after he's already stiffened up and gone quiet. His brows are all pinched up and his eyes are squeezed shut as the ribbon digs into his flesh. His hips can't really buck into your touch with you still sitting over him, but he tries anyway while he tenses up all over. His lips part in a silent, anticipatory moan.

Your hand gives him four solid pumps after his body warns you of the rapidly building pleasure, and then Art is cumming with a sharp cry.

His entire form shudders as his heels dig into the bed, and he nearly bucks you off of him like a startled horse from the force and intensity of his orgasm. Your eyes stay fixed to his sensitive parts in your grasp as his balls empty completely over your hand and his lower abdomen in thick, sticky ropes.

It's a heavy load. It's so much that it almost looks like someone spilled a bunch of translucent, sugary icing all over his body and between your fingers. it's so much that it almost seems inhuman. It just goes on and on and on. And he just moans and moans and moans.

"Yess-ss—! Ohh—! yesyesyesyes—!"

"Ahh! AH! Mmngh—!"

He makes the prettiest sounds.

You pump him faster.

You milk him until he gets oversensitive and starts to whine, squirming and panting and gasping for air, and then you finally (finally) let him go.

He collapses down instantly, twitching with the aftershocks, but laying completely spent like a puppet with cut strings. He's beautiful.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou," is all he can slur out as his eyes remain unfocused and lidded.

"You're welcome," you say.

your voice is tender and helps to bring him down. In a moment or two, you'll untie his wrists and press a kiss to each. You'll bring him a glass of water and grab a towel to clean him up after you wash your hands. You'll hold him and cuddle him and stroke his sore muscles as he buries his face in your neck. You'll tell him you love him, and how good he did until he can fall asleep.

You wear him out like a dog sometimes, but if you asked him to bark.. who's to say he wouldn't?

All that Art knows as he drifts off is one truth:

He's never going to be bratty ever again.