kradeelav

if *i’m* the one to think of black materia as a ball gag first, I’m going to be severely disappointed in y’all.

ff7, filed under #mscfanart

last #ironcrown -specific smut doodles. i played a little more with diane/hardin afterwards as its own thing, though.
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“I don’t want to see you with boys, Diane. I don’t share well. If you’re with me, you’re mine.” he murmurs, and she shudders under the weight of his voice.

a scene from a R18 fanfic from the skilled and kind aspareme, #ironcrown - verse. fic below.

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Because bad ideas are best shared with good company…Absolute filth below the cut, which is funny because nobody even gets naked. You have been warned.I don’t own any of this, and am infinitely grateful to @notkrad for letting me write awful things with her awesome characters. Thanks for sharing the sandbox!

Heads up: generalized power-play

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“We must be careful, little miss, or we’ll be caught. You have to be so quiet, Diane. So… so quiet. Will you do precisely what I tell you to, Diane, exactly when I tell you to do it?”

His gloved hand cradles her chin; the joint of his thumb bends at the delicate bone of her jaw, and her head is tilted up to accommodate it. It isn’t comfortable. She couldn’t care less, because his lips are at her ear, and his voice is saying the things she’s only dared dream of.

She knows she’s probably being played; nobody wants nothing from her, and she’s been told that bad boys only want one thing from pretty girls. With her mousy brown hair she’s more pigeon than peacock and she knows it, so it’s not like he’s after her for her looks.

And he isn’t a bad boy, anyways.

Captain Hardin is a man — a dangerous man — and she knows he’s killed people. She doesn’t know if they were all on Father’s orders, either. It ought to disgust her. It will one day. But for now all she wants is for him to keep doing…

Whatever it is he’s doing to her pulse.

It thuds in her ears, a mortal instrument. She wonders if he’s close enough to see it at her throat.

“Yes”, she whispers, and the grip tightens a little.

“I thought I told you to be quiet, Diane.”

He drawls her name into her ear, and she can’t help but let a little moan escape. They’re tucked away into an empty office that’s fallen into disuse. It’s dark here, and it’s got a heavy door; she knows they can’t be heard over the music coming down the hallway.

But Hardin sounds serious. His grip on her jaw certainly is.

She shivers helplessly in his grasp, but doesn’t apologies. She’s got to be quiet. He told her so, and she’s always been told to trust her security detail implicitly.

“There’s my little miss”, he purrs, and the shivers turn into quakes trembling down her thighs. Pinned apart as she is, Diane knows he can feel her tremble. Her back is to the door, and her legs are forced wide over his thigh; her wrists are pinned above her head by one of his hands, and she is altogether helpless. The ballgown’s skirts are bunched around her hips, and she’s so aroused it almost hurts to think.

She knows she ought to feel bad about it, but doesn’t. She’ll worry about it later, because —

“You were bold the last time, little miss, and it was charming. I enjoy an ingenue, especially the sort that come crawling through my window at night.” He gives her a cold once-over, as though assessing something he was considering purchasing. Searching for flaws, maybe, or otherwise cataloguing points of interest. He stares at her, and she feels… bared.

Diane’s wearing three layers and he makes her feel naked.

She realizes to her absolute horror that she’s wet at the same time that he lifts his leg. The muscle bunches under the black trousers of his formal dress uniform, and she lifts precariously up on to her toes.

Her legs have fallen open, and now she must rest her full weight onto his thigh. She bites her lip against the cry that wants to escape. She feels the heat of his leg through her silk knickers, and knows she’s making a mess.

She’s mortified, cheeks flushing and eyes prickling with sudden tears — even as Hardin makes a noise of appreciation in the back of his throat.

“There there, little miss. Shh, that’s enough. No need for these”, he murmurs, thumbing away an errant droplet. “I’ve got you, Diane. I’ll take care of everything. I’ll make sure we’re not discovered, little miss. All you have to do is trust me, absolutely. Can you do that? Will you do that for me?”
Pinned as she is, she can only nod.

She knows it’s a bad idea even as she does it.

It won’t stop her, though. She wants him. Strong, commanding… and his voice can be so warm with pride, approval, interest.

Hardin cares… or can fake it convincingly. She can’t make up her mind which, and it clearly doesn’t matter. He’s here with her now, and she’s pragmatic enough to take what she can get.

It isn’t her brain calling the shots today anyways.

“Very good, little miss. Now, here are the rules. You will obey them to the letter, and they are non-negotiable. If you are well-behaved, this… can continue. If you are disobedient, it stops immediately. Do you understand? You tell no-one, and you follow the rules.”

She thinks of her father, of his growing collection of empty bottles and conspiracy theories. Diane isn’t delighted at the idea of him finding out that she and Hardin have… anticipated something that might not happen in the first place. It’s not like she doesn’t know why princesses are valuable, but she resolves to be selfish and steal a little something of her own.

She nods.

Hardin smiles, but his eyes stay cold. They look like chips of February skies, when the blue is clear and lethal. She has trouble holding his gaze, and drops hers after a second or two. With her chin held up as it is, it’s a subtle submission. He sees it nevertheless, and she’s rewarded with a stroke of his thumb up the blade of her jaw to her chin and back up. The slide of silk against her skin is decadent, and she likes it more than she should.

“I don’t want to see you with boys, Diane. I don’t share well. If you’re with me, you’re mine”, he murmurs, and she shudders under the weight of his voice. He sounds possessive, and she wants to be wanted back.

She nods, and he continues.

“And I love an ingenue as much as the next man, but if we’re to do this, I’ll be calling the shots. No more climbing through windows unannounced, little miss. I’ll let you know the nights you can come. When it’s safe for you to come.”

She flushes with dull mortification; she really had managed to get into his room, and had made rather a mess of her confession. But the kiss he’d given her had been worth it, even if she’d been deliriously happy and sickeningly anxious by turns the rest of the night.

You’re beautiful, you know”, he murmurs, and she feels her cheeks burn again. She’s never been called beautiful until him, and she’s discovering that she quite enjoys it.

“Tawny, as many shades as a mountain cat; you make it hard for me to control myself. I’ll never put you — us — at risk, little miss, but I like to hunt. Do you understand?” His hand gentles on her jawline, but his eyes don’t soften.

He’s always seemed capable of reading her like an open book, but she’s never felt flayed open like this before. He knows her worst impulses, sees what she tries to hide as though she’d painted it orange.

And he’s still here, with her.

So she does trust him, and nods. She knows that even now, she mustn’t make a sound. He must be pleased by that, because he shifts the hand holding her jaw down to the place where his thigh meets… her.

“Good. Then I’ll take what’s mine when inclination and opportunity strike. Any objections, little miss?”

The way she’s straddling him stretches the silk over her mound. His longest finger strokes over the damp fabric, tracing every rounded contour with a marksman’s precision. It’s the first time anyone’s touched her like this, and she can’t help it. She moans.

His eyes narrow, and that is the only indication he gives her before he snaps his thigh up. She’s truly on tiptoe now. She rides his thigh, hips squirming for purchase and finding only a keen and wild darkness of sensation.

Hardin’s small moue of disappointment makes her want to cry. She didn’t mean it. She doesn’t want him to go, so she shuts her mouth and lowers her eyes. He must know she’s contrite, because he keeps stroking her through the silk, until she’s flushed and panting silently for air.

“You’ll learn, little miss. You’ll learn. But what am I to do with you until you do, hm? And when I asked you so nicely, too. Your punishment, little miss…” he pauses, considering, until his eyes light with something hungry.

His thigh disappears at the same time as his hand.

She lands flat on her feet all of a sudden, and wobbles. Now released from the pressure, the heat between her legs throbs. She can feel her pulse with every thud, a strange ache that makes her skin feel too tight around the edges.

“Your underwear, Diane”, he orders, and it is an order. He’s even got his hand out; his face is dark with promise and something that looks darker than lust and more intense than desire. She trembles under his gaze, and helpless — unwilling — to resist, she does as she’s told.

When she hands them over with a trembling hand, she is mortified to see how wet they are. She can smell iodine and something organic, a richness and tang, like seaweed and brine. She realizes with a start that it’s her, and her cheeks flame.

He tucks the fabric into the inside breast pocket of his suit, and Diane realizes she’s not getting them back any time soon.

Hardin smiles, and brings his lips to her ear. “Until I give you these back, Diane… you don’t get to wear any. To make sure you remember, hmm, little miss?”

She is helpless to resist. She’ll give him whatever he wants to have him to herself. It’s reckless, and dangerous, but she wants to hear him call her sweet things again, wants to see that look of lust, of haughty assessment and cruel intentions.

She ought to hate it, but can’t deny the effect it has on her. She wants him to make her feel, even if it’s not right or good or smart.

Diane nods, barely capable of sucking in a breath.

“Good girl”, Hardin drawls against the soft skin of her jaw, at the tender place where it meets her ear, and Diane shudders once, hard, and feels her inner thighs go slick.

She sags against the doorway, blown as a deer chased by wolves, and he watches her with the same predatory interest. It’s not like she’s unaware of the picture she makes; tousled and rumpled and well-used, for all that he barely touched her.

She feels her lack of undergarments acutely.

“We should return, little miss, or you’ll be asked after. I’ll leave first; you clean yourself up and follow when you’re ready. If we’re challenged — you felt self-conscious and retreated for some privacy. I noticed you missing and went after you. Do you understand?”

Though their assignation is clearly over, she finds it hard to speak. She nods instead, and a smile blooms on his face. This time when he cradles her jaw, his hand is gentle.

“There’s my little miss.” She feels lighter than air, and knows she’s got a stupid dreamy smile on her face. He steps around her, hand on the door knob, and then pauses. She shifts closer to him, aching for another taste of him. His gaze rakes over her, head to toes and back. She likes the way he looks at her, the quiet way he wears command.

“Oh, and Diane?” His hand cups between her thighs, a firm and possessive grip. He doesn’t ask permission; she doesn’t exactly mind. She does, however, stay quiet.

“The next time, I want you bare.” The thought of tender, bare flesh is so shockingly arousing that her breath catches.

He meets her gaze and the cruel slash of his mouth widens into something almost warm. “Enjoy the party, little miss”, he whispers into her ear, and slips out of the room before she can do anything else. Alone in the dark room, she sucks in a whooping breath, and lets it out through her teeth in a sibilant hiss.

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last few #ironcrown doodles i did. still kinda want to do that mousepad not gonna lie.

last of the #ironcrown character sheets, Joanna. comic's free to read online here



As the patron saint of guns, gold, and gin, she’s the unofficial vodka aunt demon consultant and sniper that Isandar calls in for challenging jobs, or when she needs a surgical strike.  Brutally competitive and lives for the hunt, Joanna doesn’t care how much she needs to get her hands dirty as long as it’s in the name of her one mission in life – killing said demons.

While also abrasive, cynical, and foul-mouthed (to put it mildly) outside the job, she has an amusing quirk of giving nicknames to everyone in the crew – Tango promptly took her given nickname from the day they met, which solidified their friendship mostly based on explosions (and salt).  Only Isandar knows anything about her before being a sniper-for-hire, but there’s a decent amount of speculation of her unusual familiarity with the Judges and how they operate.  Then again, that just may have to do with their shared efficiency of purifying the margins of the world from the unholy monsters.

#hellsing work around 2017 or so, when i was posting to twitter

#ironcrown smut
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more #hellsing smut
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note to self: never call a ship a crackship for your own IP. it, in fact, will not remain a crackship
filed under #ironcrown

splash image i made for #ironcrown when it was officially launched. you can read the comic for free here

completely forgot i was into detroit:beyond human for five seconds
lesbian hankcon, filed under #mscfanart

detroit:beyond human had some hella good slashfics aka gavin/nines from this

“Well, go on,” says RK, like they’re back at the office and handing over files or talking shop about cases. “Don’t exercise restraint on my account. You’ve always done what you’ve wanted, haven’t you?”

(plus an extra gavin) #mscfanart

#ironcrown nsfw challenge posts over on twitter around 2016 or so
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#hellsing nsfw dump
i still crack up like a loon at that last one.
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#ironcrown april fools prank i did over on tumblr for a fake hardin dakimakura pillow.
bonus, what was on the “april fools!” linked site:  

#ironcrown nsfw dump
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#hellsing nsfw
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first #hellsing piece on the nsfw tumblr back around 2016 or so
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Jayd (chirart) commissioned me last year to be a part of LITTLE FOOLERY's 10th anniversary celebration . Muun and Jayd have been dear to me over the years, and it’s truly been a delight to see how their creative partnership has made stories like Sfeer Theory (and more) happen.

even in the trees of making a webcomic i still found time to draw #zihark
#fetellius

modus operandi is a knockout of a comic by heysawbones​ that i recently marathon’d, and you should too .  This is Bob.

(poor Bob.)

more fun warmups & concept art for #ironcrown
(comic is free to read here )

doodle dump of some #ironcrown and #zihark naturally.

action layout/pacing warmup for #ironcrown
noodling with some (very abbreviated) scenarios about how/why they’d fight, even if this doesn’t actually happen in the main story.

Realized I haven’t done proper introductions of this cast for #ironcrown - let’s fix that!
(comic is free to read here )



Starting off with our lead, Diane Weiss.  Stubborn, suspicious, temperamental, two-faced, and stubborn again - she’s a gryffindor heart deep (very, very deep) in a slytherin mind.

Diane’s painfully aware of the spotlight on her as the daughter of the Butcher, and mistrusts strangers due to everyone and their pet hamster attempting to curry favors from a seemingly less intimidating personality.  (they learn.)  She also gets a bad habit of using other people as tools without a shred of doubt - that and his paranoia are two in a long list of similarities they share.

On the other hand, her one redeeming side is she’s a sucker for backing the underdog or fixing an unjustice that crosses her path (someone else being misused, for example) (the hypocrisy is strong in this one) - and has zero problem throwing a considerable amount of sheer willpower in solving it, even if it means declaring war on an empire without a scrap of bread to her name.

(Which she, of course, does.  Because why not.)

After her homeland’s in flames due to her father being a shithead, and she’s on the run - mercenary Commander Isandar takes her under the wing and is a much better fit for Diane, authority issues and all.  Those two (plus a certain … ah, smarmy demon … ) end up quite the power-trio through the story.

Continuing the #ironcrown character ref sheets - here’s Commander Isandar!
(comic is free to read here )



Calm and pragmatic with a voice like a foghorn - she’s led the Iron Crown Brigade for decades and is a familiar -and feared- sight at the Imperium’s warring borders. Ambivalent about many of her clients (and the few journalists  that interview her), she nonetheless holds a strong moral code - likewise with her crew, who remain fiercely loyal even despite facing suicidal contracts and hordes of Fell (demons).  The pay’s worth it, they say.

Isa’s a bit of an adrenaline junkie, too - thankfully Joanna’s usually there to talk her out of the wilder schemes (as the freelance ‘Fell consultant’ and off-and-on girlfriend).  (One of those involved several gunships, a crate of melons, and half the Imperium treasury.  Don’t ask.)

#ironcrown character sheet for shard. (comic is free to read here )



This guy.

As the arch-demon of war, destruction, and change, it’s an open secret that Shard gets pulled out as a living weapon every ~200yrs by the powers-that-be to intimidate political enemies and/or wipe them out.  (The latter doesn’t happen as much these days since he’s a touch too good at it.  The last time was called the Annihilation ..  yeah.)

Currently possessing the body of an unfortunate (deceased) Chanderan soldier. (demons work slightly different in IC given they gotta have a host body without a soul to inhabit it.  He’s a bit unique in that he’s bound by a magic dagger called Binder as well.)

Loathes the Judges who were the religious order that had the foresight to bind him in the first place, long ago.  He’s on board with anything that could spite them, which includes your usual demonic activity of carnage and mayhem, tempting mortals, backstabbing unwary masters, more carnage, and generally being a colossal troll.  Despite being the most smarmy thing ever on the surface, he’s actually deeply emotional and fluctuates between nihilistic apathy and widely varying mood swings (constant existential crisis over being a living weapon, etc).  Also has a few er a LOT screws loose after the Butcher left him to rot in the cellars for the last lifetime, which doesn’t help …

Diane and him end up bailing each other out of a sticky situation – but from the sheer amount of arguments that they bicker about, aka everything under the sun, you’d think they’ve forgotten it.  (They haven’t.)  Since she’s on her own revenge spree against the Judges, he’s smug as a cat being her right hand and is more or less on his best behavior.

mostly.
(he is a demon after all …)

about this time, i was starting to work on a lot of #ironcrown concept art, since i was pitching the webcomic to a publisher. you can read the comic here online for free

more vaguely nsfw timeskip!integra/alucard because krad is weeb garbage

(this was the post that made me realize i needed a separate artblog for nsfw at the time lol) #hellsing