#thanks babe!!!!!!!!!

[me-beef]

@strangeravatar made a great point

i was gonna focus on the spike-hotboxing-celestia aspect but i got distracted somewhere along the way and i think i forgot what joke i was trying to make

but dont you think its interesting how many guards of the exact same color/body type she's managed to accrue?? i do

ooohh you want to go look at our stickers so bad

[meanbossart]

.👁️👄👁️

[erwinsvow]

Do you think rafe would wear necklace with his girl’s initial?? Like his girl bought it as a present and i’m curious on how rafe would react 😃

"so what i'm hearin' is you got me somethin' with my own money?" rafe asks, looking down at the neatly wrapped box, a pretty white ribbon looped around it. your fingers play with the satin bow, anxious for rafe to open it.

"rafe!" you start with a whine but stop yourself. "it's the thought that counts, okay?" he laughs, taking the gift from your hands.

"sure, kid. whatever you say." he undoes the bow, setting it aside since he knows you'll want to keep it. the wrapping paper gets ripped up and off, while you protest that it could have been reused. he opens the box, looking down at a thin silver chain. there's a little pendant hanging down, the shape of your initial.

he looks up from the chain at you, waiting for his response with big eyes and parted lips. you're playing with your R necklace, the way you always do when you're nervous.

"d-do you like it? i thought we could match," you say quietly, biting you lower lip in anticipation.

"yeah?" he questions, taking the jewelry out of the box and into his hand, feeling the weight of it in his palm.

"only if you like it. you don't have to wear it, i just-"

"just what?" he looks you right in the eyes, wanting your real answer, not just you bouncing around his question from nerves.

"i just wanted to make sure everyone knows you're mine." you lip stings from where you're biting down, rafe look into your eyes.

he opens his arms, and you crawl into his lap, taking the chain from his palm and putting it around his neck, clipping it into place. you smile, pressing a kiss to rafe's cheek, his hands tight on your waist.

"got that right, kid."

[uhohdad]

hear me out, loser! könig who's in love with his best friend and she drags him to go dress shopping and he has to consciously keep himself from drooling everytime she shows him a new dress. She's just so pretty, grabbable hips with the prettiest smile and she has that sparkle in her eyes and she's looking at *him.*

(18+) Dress Shopping with Loser!König

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅^ྀི ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅^ྀི ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅^ྀི ⋅˚₊ ‧୨୧ ‧₊˚

“What do you think of this one?”

Loser!König has heard this question all day long, and if he answered honestly, you’d run for the hills.

Loser!König can’t believe you’re inviting him to ogle at you. His eyes devour the way each dress hugs your curves, your legs that curtsy and twirl as you show off, hips that beg for his strong hands. His favorite are the particularly low-cut dresses, shamelessly drooling over your plush, perfect cleavage. He imagines he’s slipping his hardened hands down your collar and into your bra, grabbing two handfuls of your soft breasts, massaging them against his palms.

Loser!König’s erection has turned painful long ago, forced to tuck his aching cock into the waistband of his pants in hopes you can’t tell that you’re torturing him. Torturing him with your perfect body, with that brilliant smile, with soft, sweet eyes looking up at him so innocently. It brings a heat to both his face and his cock, leaking and throbbing in his pants.

Loser!König who can’t stop thinking about how easy it would be to lift the hem of your dress and get a glimpse of your panties. He wants to sneak an upskirt photo, craves to know what color you’re wearing, what cut, if they’re lacy or not. The thought of a dainty bow on the top of your panties has a huffy groan threatening to leave his lips, a pretty little present for him to unwrap.

Loser!König can hardly resist the urge to drag you into the fitting room. Pin both of your wrists to the mirror with a brute hand, the other sneaking up your thighs and bunching up the dress. Grinding his aching cock against your front, nestling himself between your lips and rocking against your clit. Yanking your soaked panties to the side and bullying his thick cock into your dripping cunt while you claw at him, his name stuck in the back of your throat.

Loser!Konig who practically throws his wallet at the cashier when you go to pay. He would buy you a hundred dresses if it means he gets to look at you in them.

Loser!König pretends to use a fitting room to try on a shirt, but instead relieves his painful, throbbing erection, biting back his pathetic whines and grunts as he imagines he’s filling you up, hands dug into your hips in that pretty dress. Ravaging your tight, wet cunt until he paints the fitting room mirror with his finish, choking back a moan that threatens to twist into your name.

Loser!König is bright red and sweating when he leaves the fitting room, hoping you haven’t realized what a perverted creep he truly is.

“Äh, it didn’t fit.”

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅^ྀི ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅^ྀི ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅^ྀི ⋅˚₊ ‧୨୧ ‧₊˚

Loser!König

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

"Why?"

That one word sent a shock through Danny's system, like he was back in the portal being electrocuted all over again. Still, he knew what was at stake, so even though that look on Tim's face made him want to fall to his knees and explain everything, he knew he couldn't.

Instead, he raised his gun as the portals filling the sky multipled and merged together as the ghost zone tried to absorb their reality. Channeling his inner Dan, he gave Tim a mocking smirk, What? You didn't think all that was real, did you?"

"You...you're lying!"

Danny tilted his head at an angle he knew would look as smug and condescending as possible, and judging by the burst of rage he felt coming from Nightwing a few rooftops over, it worked. "Tim, you know better." He said in Bruce's voice, It was the exact thing Bruce had told them when they were starting thier relationship.

Everyone had disapproved when he had brought his new boyfriend home a few months after meeting at the skatepark. Bruce hated Danny from the get-go, more suspicious of him than he had been with any of the batkids' previous partners.

Danny opened his mouth to mock him more but was quickly cut off by a punch to the face, not by Nightwing, or by Robin, who was still racing towards him at seemingly Mach speeds. Nope. It was Hood, who looked madder than Danny had ever seen him, surprising both Tim and Danny alike.

"You did all of this just to steal our souls and trap us in some weird afterlife dimension as your slaves?!"

Danny had no idea where the slaves thing came from, but it sounds villainous, so Danny's gonna go with it, "Of course!"

[podcastwizard]

saw a billboard advertising a low calorie pasta as having "the same amount of calories as a salad." brother if you saw the salads i ate you'd hurl

[stemmmm]

doodles i did for theseus' guide when chapter 2 was first written a month ago :3

id like to take the blame for ford being hit with the cowboy beam but it's just a more refined version of stumps original design ideas. all of the details on the outfit have a purpose! except the quartz necklace. that ones just for fun

[angel-sephiroth]

Nice work.

[heynhay]

you know i hate to say it, I told you so

[lazylittledragon]

I think I remember you drawing stuff about Eddie being pregnant (body changes and stuff).

What about Dorian? How did he handle it? How did Astarion? Was he showing a lot? Or was it one of those "invisible" pregnancies? Did he try to hide the changes? Did he succeed and just showed up with a baby one day?

Sorry if you already responded to some of these. I do lose stuff on my dash a lot.

Love your style btw, it's just really pretty and interesting to look at, kinda... Idk the words very smooth and fluid looking? Kinda like there is movement even tho it's just an image.

Best of luck🍀 and look after yourself💗

i feel like he’s a very ‘whatever happens happens’ kind of person so he probably just vibed along with it (also after everything, what his body looks like isn’t in his priorities anymore). i also think that they Attempted to keep it secret for longer but dorian is a terrible liar and everyone just knew

i think astarion would be. as supportive as he’s able to be which isn’t much but he’s trying

[14dayswithyou]

This angel has another question! \o

do you have a general idea of what renrens voice would sound like? like a celebrity, singer, or maybe just a general description?

i hope all is going well for you 🫶🫶

✦゜ANSWERED: Ren's singing vc can be found here (I misread the original ask and thought it said "sings like", not "sounds like" sdksdgjs), but it also includes what I think Ren's talking voice would sound like ^^

But!! if I had to give an example, I've always imagined Eve (from Nier) to be very similar to Ren's talking voice!! It's soft, timid, and has that curious lilt to it — but also has dat [REDACTED] edge as well >:3

[slushyseals]

I'm with her guys, she already has the perfect beach body.

[raceweek]

omg albon pets ally xxxxxx

[traffrogers]

Not @briefle, @terraglows and i making a comic for @hotguycomiczine???? surely????? with much help from @gingermaple

[gilverrwrites]

idk if this is your thing but i've been thinking about reader and breastmilk. specifically, ak!jason finding out bat!reader has breastmilk after he rips off their chest uniform and then sucks the milk like a starving man and you could hear him gulping it down

Haha, BatBrat? Hero? Parent? Nah, now Jason’s got his hands on you he’s gonna turn you into his personal hucow, or maybe it’s a mommy thing? Who knows, you pick. Tbh, lactation isn’t a kink I’ve explored before but AK!Jason could do anything to me. ANYTHING! An’ I had fun writing something a lil different, so much fun in fact that it turned out way longer than I'd intended, so thanks for the ask, anon <3 Warnings: Dub/coerced-con, lactation, captivity/restraints, mild angst

At first, he’s just trying to antagonise you, at least that’s what he tells himself when he notices the discomfort in your stance; the way you keep awkwardly shifting, causing the chain around your neck to echo and clang as you gently pet your breasts, trying to hide the moisture seeping through your shirt with the backs of your hands until you finally plead; “You have to let me go… I… I need to pump.”

“I don’t have to do anything.” He spits, mouth-watering as he approaches your spot on the floor. There’s no chance he’s letting you go, but he’s certain he can solve your problem if you ask nicely enough.

“Please J-“ You hesitate for a moment, your doleful eyes searching his blue ones, unsure how to address your predecessor gone ‘bad’ before you fall on the same term his men have been using out of respect, or more likely fear. You’ve spent so many hours yelling and screaming at him that your voice cracks even as you attempt to sound softer. “Sir.”

You’re making an effort to appeal to him, looking up at him as non-threateningly as you can muster.

He pins it on your demeanour, not the fact that he’s lecherously enthralled by the way your tits are slowly leaking right before his very eyes. Whatever he wants to blame it on, it’s working. Nevertheless, his stance doesn’t change, he stands above you forebodingly, that same stern, unfriendly expression on his scarred face as he attempts to suck back his salivation.

“Please, I can’t stop it.” You continue. “It’s painful, I need relief.”

The irony isn’t lost on either of you, that you’re complaining about the pain of your overfull breasts, as you sit before him broken and bruised.

“Can’t let you go.” He reaffirms as he crouches down onto his haunches, almost eye to eye with you, but he’s not looking at your face as he reaches forward, hooking his fingers into the neckline of your shirt and pulling. “But since you asked so sweetly.”

“N-no! Wait. Not like this!” Your hands wrap around his forearm but with little purchase. Your cries are ignored, your feeble grip does nothing to slow Jason's strong hand and in seconds he’s running his gloved thumbs over your aching nipples, rubbing the damp cotton of your bra against the sensitive skin with a dreamy, far-off look on his face.

You swat at him until he retracts. For a moment a weight is lifted from your chest until you realise he’s simply removing his gloves. Unease quickly returns as he snaps open the centre of your bra, and despite yourself, a groan of relief escapes your lips. You fight the urge to relax into his strong hands as he begins to massage the underside of your heavy breasts.

“You don’t have to do this.” You try once more, but he looks up at you with a quirked brow, and a smile on his lips. He doesn’t have to, he wants to.

“I thought you were hurting.” He challenges, as his hands roam higher, finally, his bare, calloused fingers dig into the fat of your tits, he barely even has to squeeze before your milk begins to drip onto the backs of his hands. You squirm and grunt, staring at the ground, unable to make eye contact with him, too ashamed to accept the respite his hands are offering. “Thought you needed it.”

His voice is scathing, a taunt, despite the fact that you can see the outline of his throbbing dick, and the hunger in his eyes. The sight of you, all tired and timid, engorged tits exposed, is doing it for him. He wants this, bad, but what he wants even more is for it to feel like he’s doing something for you, a favour he can lord over you. Whatever keeps him in control.

“I can help you out.” Speaking slow and concise, his proposal could never be construed as kind. All the while he keeps palming at your chest in tender, measured motions, getting far too much of a kick out of the way you try to fight how his actions soothe you. “Or you can keep on suffering.”

He watches you expectantly, titling his head as a third suggestion comes to him. “Or, hey, I could invite some of my militia in here, I’m sure they’d get a kick out of watching B’s favourite brat spilling her milk everywhere. One of them might take pity and help you out. If that’s what you’d prefer.”

“No.” Obviously. He deliberately isn’t giving you a real choice in the matter. “Please help me.”

If he was thinking straighter, he might have spared you a snarky comment, or gone through the effort of making you beg explicitly for him. Something to really get under your skin, but he doesn’t want to wait any longer. With your permission he locks his lips around one of your nipples, cradling your breast in both hands as he begins to suck with a force far stronger than you’re used to. His teeth sink into your skin painfully and he closes his eyes, savouring the moment, the taste of your sweet milk. It’s like a switch is flipped, how his harsh features soften, his body slowly relaxing against yours as he greedily gulps down every drop he can squeeze out of your teat.

“Feeling better yet?” He asks at one point, speech slurred by his refusal to detach himself from you.

He watches you through half-lidded eyes as he awaits your answer, whispy black lashes only fluttering closed once more when you nod, only somewhat reluctantly. “Yes. Thank you.”

Though you’re sure his teeth might draw blood if he bites down any harder, your body does start to unwind, mitigated as Jason alleviates the internal pain. Neither of you really realise the change in yourselves until Jason is draped across your body, your arms around him in a cradle-like fashion as you stroke his hair; some kind of maternal instinct seemingly kicking in as you idly observe how The Big Bad Arkham Knight is pacified by your milk.

As soon as the well dries, however, his nails puncture your sore skin, and he glares up at you until you remind him; “The other one.”

He has the decency to look sheepish for his near-outburst, only for a second before he kneels back to change position, stopping briefly to remove the upper half of his armour, revealing how the scars don’t stop at his face. His torso is expansive, built with muscles and littered with taut, pale, overlapping lines. There are holes in his nipples, punctured at mismatched angles that have you suspecting they’re not from being pierced, at least not professionally.

What happened to you? You want to pry.

I’m so sorry. I wish I’d been there. I would have done something. Any consolations die in your throat, killed by the fear of how he’ll react. You’d learned quickly that the past was a touchy subject for him, a thread that when picked at can trigger a volatile reaction.

Before you can spend too long following that string, Jason distracts you. His jaw is locked tight, eyes judgemental as he watches you watching him until he starts to trail the tips of his fingers down the centre of his chest. The nervous edge of having your eyes on his marred body easing once you allow your gaze to be drawn to his crotch where he deftly unbuckles his belt and slips a hand into his boxers, squeezing at his needy cock.

“How about you milk me when I get done with you, huh?”

[forcebook]

May I help you relieve stress?