#my art—・❥

[aaph3lion]

drawings of my val main one year apart

iiiii think i improved

heh.

might start writing for val if inspo strikes

prob wont tho

oh well!!

[pink7princess]

Make sure to reapply sunscreen every two hours!! Also HAPPY SUMMER!!!!! ☀️🧴🌊🐬👙🫧

[🎀🫧taglist! (lemme know if u wanna be added for future updates—fics & arts😋)] @improbablynotpoppy @b1uecatt @siiri0307 @blissqful @mostsanefilmliker @ferxanda @futiledevices16 @moonylvs @angelynn-nicole @pariiissssssss @gardengnosticator @kikispool @reiaeri @just-a-ghostcat

sorry i haven’t posted in a bajillion years…my family has been super busy with little activities so i haven’t had the chance to post but NOW i am way more free soooooo be ready to eat some new fics soon!!!

[h0neybane]

i like deltarune

[littlejoels]

you’d kissed art right there in front of everyone. just one hand curled at the back of his sweaty neck, lips brushing his cheekbone before slipping lower, a whisper of good luck, baby, warm against the hollow beneath his ear. you could feel how tight his shoulders were, barely coiled tension, his mouth twitching like he wanted to say something but didn’t dare—not when lily was clinging to your leg, babbling about something sticky she’d touched in the car.

he was always so good before matches. eyes dipping, pretty cheeks a little pink, and that desperate undercurrent vibrating in his voice like he was seconds away from crumbling under your hand, even in public. God, you loved watching him choke it down.

but you had to pee. badly.

so you took lily’s small hand, waved him off like you weren’t tracking every line of strain on his pretty face, and made your way up to the concourse. it smelled like popcorn and testosterone while the bathrooms were the usual disaster: fluorescent lights flickering, water pooling on tile like it had no drain to go to, some poor mom yelling at her kid in the next stall. lily held your phone while you peed and lectured you about not washing your hands long enough. you humored her, dried your palms on your tight jeans, and stepped back out.

and there he was. patrick zwieg.

“you’re outnumbered today,” he joked, eyes dropping to lily, “whole damn team of girls in your corner.”

you laughed, because he was right, and because he looked so tired, and sad lately. making you want to hug him without thinking, and that’s what you did—arms tight, chin over his shoulder, hands squeezing like you were trying to will your affection into his bones. and he hugged back, enjoying every second.

you had no idea art saw it. no idea that from the sidelines he froze mid-stretch, one leg up on the bench, watching your arms wrapped around patrick like you were comforting a soldier back from war. you had no idea how green he went, the flush that crawled up his throat not from exertion but from jealousy, from that choking curl of possessive panic. and he didn’t say a word about it.

he played like his life depended on it. like he was ripping the court apart piece by piece and offering it to you. he barely acknowledged the crowd, barely let anyone touch him, not even when fans tried to hug him. he just came straight for you, sweaty and heaving. he kissed lily’s head, nodded stiffly at patrick, and looped his arm around your waist with his hand low, too low for a normal art post-game pat. you felt the heat in him. the tight, cold possessiveness boiling behind his silence. he wouldn’t even meet your eyes.

you didn’t tease him about it, scared you might wake up a unfriendly beast. you were quiet the whole drive, though your palm stroked slow circles into his thigh while he white-knuckled the wheel. he dropped lily at tashi’s with a polite kiss to her cheek and a forced thank you honey for coming with me, and the second the car door slammed shut behind you two again, he snapped.

you didn’t even make it two steps in the house before he was on you, hand fisted tight in the back of your shirt, dragging you back against him like he needed you to feel how hard he was.

“what the fuck was that,” he whispered.

you blinked slow, playing dumb. “what was what?”

he let out a rough, shaky breath against your neck. “no. don’t do that.”

you turned in his grip, gripped his jaw. “do what, artie?”

his throat bobbed when he swallowed. his voice was quiet, but it trembled with rage and desperation. “that thing you do. where you act like you didn’t know. like it didn’t mean anything..like i didn’t watch you wrap your arms around him like he fucking belonged to you.”

you tilted your head, studying him. “patrick?”

he groaned and pulled away, like the name tasted like rust in his mouth. “God, stop saying his fucking name, please, i can’t—i can’t hear you say it again. not when i can’t get the hug out of my head.”

“you’re being ridiculous.”

“i know,” he said instantly, half-laughing, half on the verge of tears. “i know i am. i know you didn’t mean anything by it, but it doesn’t fucking matter because i felt like my lungs collapsed. i saw you with him and i—i couldn’t breathe. i couldn’t fucking think.”

you leaned back against the wall and crossed your arms, watching him. he was pacing now, fingers threading through his hair, talking so fast the words tripped over each other.

“it’s just—the way you looked at him. like you cared. like you missed him. i know you’re allowed to have friends, i know you’re allowed to hug whoever the fuck you want, i know that, but i just stood there watching and i swear i felt something crack'd open inside me and i—”

he stopped mid-sentence and turned to face you again, chest heaving, lips parted like he was waiting to be punished or kissed. or maybe both.

“i’m sick,” he said quietly. “i’m fucking sick with you.”

you walked toward him slowly, hands sliding up under his shirt as you went. his skin twitched under your palms like you were cold. he didn’t even move, just stared at you like a starving thing, breathing hard.

“then show me how sick you are.”

“i will..anything—i’ll do anything.” his voice broke in a way that made your core throb with lust and admiration. “i don’t want to be right about this. i want you to tell me i’m being crazy. i want you to hurt me for thinking it. i want you to remind me i’m yours because i feel so fucking lost when you look at someone else for more than a second—”

“jesus, art.”

he grabbed your wrist, pressed it hard to his chest, over his racing heart. “you don’t get it. you don’t feel like this. i—i don’t want anyone else. i don’t even look at anyone else. it’s you, it’s only you, it’s always been you, and i’ll beg on my knees if that’s what you want, just please tell me that hug didn’t mean anything. tell me you didn’t want him to touch you back.”

“of course it didn’t mean anything. it was a fucking hug, art. what, you think he can make me cum with just his arms?” you snap.

he whimpered like you’d slapped him and dropped to his knees right there on the carpet, hands clutching at your hips.

“no. no, i know. i know he can’t. no one can. just you. please, let me prove it—”

“prove it how?”

he looked up at you, eyes glassy, mouth open,“anything. let me worship you. let me fuckin’ stay down here forever. tell me i’m pathetic. tell me i’m yours. i want you to say it while i’m choking on it.”

you grinned. “you want to choke?”

he nodded violently, already mouthing at the inside of your thigh like it would make you merciful. “on you. only you. i wanna gag on your hand while you tell me you’d never let someone like him have you. i want to feel you angry. just—mark me up so i can feel it for days. make me bleed if you want, i don’t care. i need to feel you on me. in me.”

you grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back, loving the whimper it dragged from his throat. “look at you. you jealous little bitch.”

his breath hitched. “yes. yes, i am. i don’t want to share you, not even your fucking hugs.”

“then maybe you should keep me too busy to touch anyone else.”

“i will. i will. i’ll be better. i’ll be your best. just—please. please, baby.”

you pushed your fingers into his mouth, watched his eyes flutter shut as he moaned around them. and this time when he begged, it wasn’t with words.

retags: @inbred-eater @faiszt @cherrygirlfriend @nemesyaaa @tinythebunni

inspiration ➳ my lovey @rafesplaymate

[flangore]

i don't usually share my art because i'm shy but he's been on my mind. for weeks now. going insane.

[zxmbitez]

Makeup parlour Lacey & Morgue Lacey

( click on the image for better quality! )

still hung up on the last video tbh ^^

[freddyyeti]

Man what am I doing

[loverboy-cc]

Worm!!!!

[kelin-is-writing]

He looks so good… I feel faint 🥴

[vellichorsdesire]

finished my cookie run kingdom s/i :3 he’s based off a candy from my childhood called ‘potchi’… still working out a whole lot of his lore and it could probably change but he’s from the hollyberry kingdom and due to his wanderlust can never stay at one place for too long. somewhere along the way an accident happened that caused a part of him to crumble and somehow he can’t find any cure or way to heal it. he’s just a guy honestly

[omoriboye]

Do you think Sonic likes nesting... and building nests with Shadow.. Bc it's comforting and also he sees it as a subtle not so subtle way of bonding with his love...

Like idk there's something cutely romantic about making the perfect bed with your loved one. And IMO.. I think Sonic would also like doing it because it helps Shadow get more in touch with his "feral" side that he wasn't really allowed / given the chance to embrace.. Then if you add in the way that Shadow might not even know what it's like to have a nest and this is his first ever time having one.... Ohhh ohh it's endless sappy comfort

ahem little side notes, I love that shadow is shorter than sonic.. it's super cute and it makes me do 3000 billion backflips. short husband.. alzo shadow is a trans dude and sonic is a genderfluid girlboyboss you can't change my mind

[aaph3lion]

more fanart for @lespepsippr because ALLLL marks are yearners deep down and i love coming up with different hairstyles and hcs for their personalities with each of the readers.

i like to think mohawk mc learned which variant she was dealing with and said fuck that and dedicated her time in the invincible universe becoming an academic weapon instead (he noticed her anyway rest in peace)

[pink7princess]

art for the popularbully!abby fic imma drop 🤰!!

[here are the tags!!!🌸 | let me know if you wanna be added for future art & fics!! 🎀]

@improbablynotpoppy @b1uecatt @siiri0307 @blissqful @mostsanefilmliker @ferxanda @futiledevices16 @moonylvs @angelynn-nicole @pariiissssssss @gardengnosticator @kikispool @reiaeri @just-a-ghostcat @mwahbabe @cucumbernimbus @neobangverse @xoxoaiyana @abigail-andersons-wife

[h0neybane]

stupib

@taruruchi @honeyedpearcrushh @teighveepao @boopshoops @scint1llat3

@h2llish @viperbunnies @buttholesparkles @oya-oya-okay @cheerleaderman

@qsoap @angelwishess @jadelover69 @skriblee-ksk @lychee-face

@skibidibabygirl

[littlejoels]

meet art's new wife જ⁀➴ reupload from littlesoulshine

𖠁   housewife!reader who wears sheer satin robes, kitten heels, and a constant look of disapproval. art trails behind you like an obedient puppy, always trying to earn your praise. you never raise your voice—you don’t need to....all it takes is a disappointed sigh and he’s on his knees, begging for another chance to make you happy.

𖠁   housewife!reader who gives art the cold shoulder when he forgets something small, like taking the trash out or fluffing your pillows right. he sulks around the house, trailing you, murmuring “i’m sorry, baby” like a prayer. you finally give in and let him crawl between your legs with a smug little, “are you ready to be useful again?” and his eyes get all glassy.

𖠁   housewife!reader who makes art sit in on your weekly girl lunches just so he can carry your purse and refill your wine. the other wives giggle behind their glasses, whispering about how “whipped” he is—but he doesn’t care. you let him rest his head on your thigh under the table and stroke his hair while talking over him. you’re his whole world. he just likes being near.

𖠁   housewife!reader who dresses like a dream and argues like a demon. pink nails tapping on the counter, voice like poisoned honey. art doesn’t even flinch—he thrives in the submission. you call him an idiot, and he smiles. you roll your eyes at his affection, and he kisses your cheek anyway. he likes being your punching bag, especially when he knows you’ll reward him after.

𖠁   housewife!reader who makes art wait at the door like a sad little puppy when he comes home late. you don’t even yell. you just raise an eyebrow, fold your arms, and he immediately starts rambling—“i swear, baby, traffic was—please don’t be mad—i missed you—i love you—” and you just hum, already walking away. he follows like the lovesick fool he is.

𖠁   housewife!reader who loves him, but refuses to let him forget who’s in charge. and he doesn’t want to. he likes being reminded. he likes the leash. likes how you tug it gently with your tone, your look, your hands in his hair. tashi made him feel small in the wrong ways. you make him feel small in the right ones. safe. loved. and completely yours.

𖠁   housewife!reader who lets lily paint her nails and put curlers in her hair while art makes you both lunch. she babbles about school, and when she says, “i wanna be a wife just like you,” you glance at art—who’s smiling like he’s won the lottery—and say, “then pick someone who knows how to serve a woman, honey.”

retags: @inbred-eater @faiszt @cherrygirlfriend @nemesyaaa

notes: thank you to my baby @rafesplaymate for inspiring me to write this!

[zxmbitez]

almost forgot to post this

didn't want the page to feel bland so there's a bunch of things surrounding the main drawing, hope that's okay lol

( click on for better quality )

art for @grimmisareaper!

art trade by ( @lovelacey-arttrade )