#funk out

[love4bratz]

Accidentally damaged her but in a good way. Her makeup faded as I did treatment for removing stains on her face. I like her soo much better now! She looks soo good with the grey eyes & powdery eye shadow.

[vampirehe4rt]

funk out!

[bl00dalchemist]

So i finished reading dungeon meshi

[machinerot]

i smack them together like dolls to make them kiss

[bamsara]

do you mind? we're trying to have a pivotal moment of our relationship

[lil-lemon-snails]

🧸

[nuclearanomaly]

IDK Emmrich... maybe that one should have been left alone

[melonsharks]

bad kidz cool kidz

[serendippertyy]

saw @buttonheart 's rd design and broke the sound barrier trying to draw this ASAP

[vash-o-vision]

try this at home!!!

[wardingshout]

OHHHH LIVI I see you ask for art requests??? how about anything majoras mask related??? On my knees begging but also no presh at all ever 😇

AFTER SO MUCH CONSIDERATION ON WHAT STUFF TO GO FOR!!! my to-do list randomizer happened to decide Him 🫵 completely unrelated to working on requests actually...

[katabay]

mk1 smoke :))

[falmerbrook]

Before his son was born, Stellar had only ever interacted with baby Argonians, who hatch at a development equivalent to toddlers, and had no idea that non-Argonian babies developed differently. His son's year was quite the shock to him.

Bonus father-son bonding:

[fr-mon]

a real fast and rough doodle of the new ancient because im love them

[depravitycentral]

Tw: yandere, allusions to dub-con, kidnapping

Thinking about yan men who say thank you when they cum vs men who make you say thank you.

The ones that thank you are truly grateful - they still can't believe that you're letting them touch you, that you're awake and aware and letting them fucking touch you, and so there's something reverant in the way their fingers brush against your skin. There's a sort of unfiltered, raw awe that blinds you as they grope and squeeze and knead with trembling fingers, hands moving so quickly it's as if they don't even know where to begin. They're the ones that are more likely to be warbling out declarations of love and devotion as they unsteadily thrust into you, their grip on you tight enough to make you wince. They're the ones who're begging in clipped, whiny pleas to please please please let them finish inside you, to give you everything they have to offer.

It's pathetic, really, but it strokes your ego in a way that's tough to ignore - every sniveled compliment and gasp about how good you feel goes right to your head. Every time they bury their face into the crook of your neck as their hips get more wild and untamed will leave you feeling more and more pleased with yourself, even if the man calling you a goddess in human form is the same man whose basement you're trapped in.

And, after he's finished emptying himself inside of you, cock still twitching and his breathing still wild, the murmuring starts. The chanted, over-and-over thank you thank you thank you falling from his lips as he stays curled around you, pressing himself against you as if he'll die if even a single inch of his skin isn't touching yours. And he's not stopping - he's thanking you for nearly ten whole minutes, pressing wet, tonguey kisses against your skin as he details each and every thing he's thankful for.

Thank you for fucking me. Thank you for kissing me. Thank you for letting me put the collar on you. Thank you for spitting in my mouth. Thank you for saying you love me. Thank you for using me like your personal sex toy. Thank you thank you thank you -

It's pathetic and weird, but perhaps you're a bit pathetic, too, because the way blood seems to rush between your legs at his admittance makes you just as guilty, too.

And then, of course, there are those who make you say thank you. They'll have you ass up and face down, one hand flat on your upper back to keep you pinned down while the other clutches at the pillow next to your head. He's grunting and groaning, little ngh ngh ngh sounds punctuating each thrust. Eyes maniacally scan over your exposed back and the curve of your ass, tongue lolling out to lick over his lips and taste the salt of his own sweat. Slapping sounds fill the room, along with his slurred, much-too-intense dirty talk.

It's all about possession with him - telling you that you're so damn tight, no else can fuck you like I can. Do you - fuck - do you hear me? Tell me you fucking hear me.

He's slapping your ass and pulling your hair, slipping two fingers inside your mouth to press heavily on your tongue as his thrusts pick up, not asking but rather telling you that your orgasm is getting closer and closer. You're going to come for me. You'll fucking come for me.

It's insistant and pathetic in its own way, sure, but when he's bullying his other hand between your legs and playing with your clit in such a frantic way, it's hard to remember that he's the pitiful one.

And when he finally does rip the orgasm out of you, he's keeping you right on the edge, licking at your tears as he tells you to thank me, show me how grateful you are that I'm making you feel good.

He's not satisfied until you're blabbering out your thanks, telling him that you're so in love with him and how you belong to him and only him. He's not satisfied until you're begging, promising all sorts of depraved things just because you're so damn close, and if he'd just angle his hips slightly higher and rub a few more circles over your clit...

Once he's had his fill, he'll lean in to deeply inhale your scent, nose pressed against your neck or between your breasts, before finally letting his hips and fingers hit the spots he knows you need. He wants you to keep saying your thanks, fingers squeezing and pinching at your clit, invading your senses and demanding your attention even in the throes of your pleasure.

And when, a few moments later, he lets out a particularly low groan and sends rope upon rope of hot, runny cum into you, he's expecting another thanks.

A large one, if you know what's good for you.