#I have a favourite angle to draw his face from can you tell

[vaxxman]

Angry pigeon doodle

I think it's cute that his glasses are like the cere on a pigeon's beak and when Archimedes sticks his chest out, they match. Alpha pigeon in the coop.

[keen-li]

COOKIES

A/n: just a little quickie

Military au

....

I brought you some of your favourite cookies I made" you smile warmly at the man in uniform infront of you. You stretch out the little bag showing him how much effort you put into bagging the goods.

And as he opens the contents of the bag, he admires the effort you also put into making it. You didn't have to, he told you this before, but you did and he appreciates it still . He knows it's one of your ways of showing him you care and love him. Plus you wouldn't listen even if he told you.

Back home you and him always made these little cookies with weired faces on them. "The weirder the face the sweeter they are" you'd say smiling like a child as you drew onto a cookie.

He'd just stare at you and admire the energy you put into it.

"I think that's very true considering how sweet you are" he says wrapping his arms around you to trap you from moving. When what he said registers you gasp

"Hey!!!" You yell and try to move in his grip but fail. He finds it amusing, cause you can't do anything and he has you trapped, that's why he did it so he can hear you whine and complain.

"Are you saying I have a weird face?" You whine energy wearing out. Jungkook let's out a chuckle and your face scrunches up in faux anger.

"Not really..." he starts "but sometimes" he moves he's head around as if pondering on times when he thought your face was weird.  Of course he doesn't think your face is weird, he loves your face; loves to place many tiny kisses on it and loves watching your expressions change according to what your thinking. You also know that he doesn't think your face is weird, you just play along cause you know that's how you tease each other.

You elbow hum lightly and his wall falters and you're set free. You immediately turn to start placing tiny (unharmful) slaps on his chest.

"Sometimes when huh?" You egg on and you continue to slap his chest, his very hard chest that's not affected by your weak blows.

"Like now" He says through your hits and at his words you throw a heavier slap that echos in your quiet shared apartment.

You pause fearing you've crossed a boundary. Yes he's your boyfriend and you've been together a while but  you're still kind of afraid of crossing boundaries,  especially the ones you are unaware of. Jungkook notices the little pout on your face and knows what you're thinking,  he doesn't know how many times he's going to tell that there's no blow that you can hit him with that's gonna hurt him, unless you kick him in the nuts.

"Hey that's all you've got?" He acts mockingly trying to lighten the mood, and with the scoff you let out he knows you know that he doesn't mind.

"I outta take you to the gym, your punches are kinda disappointing" you chuckle at him as you turn back to your cookies.

"i don't need the gym, I walk enough stairs and carry enough files at work" your wrist rolls as you draw your weird faces.

"And how do those things help with you learning to throw a good punch" he wraps his arms around your waist and closes the space between. Your stomach does a little flip as you feel his closeness, it feels like the first time everytime he does that. You hope he never stops.

"I don't need to learn to throw a punch..." you bend a little to get the right angle for the face you're making and as you do you brush against jungkook and he can't help but groan.

"...I have you" he can hear the smile and confidence in your voice. He's happy that you find confidence and safety in him, but he's not always gonna be around and those moments make him sick. Sometimes he wishes he could become a diety so that he can watch over you and protect you, but its not a fairytale and he knows he can't always be around. He always tries to make you understand that but you always take it as a joke. He doesn't know this but you do understand him and where he's coming from but you're just avoiding the reality of things.

"I won't always be around" his voice softens as he breath brushes past your neck and his head is quite heavy on your shoulder.

"Oh yeah? And where are you gonna go?" You say wanting to bring up the topic you've both been avoiding but needs to be had.

"The military?" You finish for him knowing he's not gonna say it.  You chuckle at the little sigh he lets out.

Your bodies disconnect and you regret bringing it up,the cold of the apartment finally getting to you. You know he isn't mad, its just hard to have serious conversations when your ass keeps brushing past his growing hard-on.

 He goes to stand on the opposite side of the island sighing as if ready to have the conversation. Your demeanour becomes a little more serious and your face falls as you hope you don't cry. You're the one who brought it up anyways,  but it's good, you need to face this.

"Do you think you'll be okay" his soft voice airs out.

You sigh and hope your tears don't fall and salten the cookies. You don't have an answer for him, you've never had the answer to that question. You can only hope.

"I hope I'll be okay" your voice fades out quite early at the end.

Jungkook knows its gonna be hard for the both of you. Sometimes he wishes he'd met you after he'd already served but that's not possible. He's glad he met you before though, gives him a reason to complete the service, come back home and now actually start life with you; like proposing. He wanted to propose to you before he left but he's mother told him he should do it after and he agrees. Proposing to you before he leaves feels like he's tying you to him and making and forcing you wait for him. He doesn't want to make you feel obligated to wait for him.

"You can move on you know" you roll your eyes once you hear him, you hated when he said stupid things and he often did when he got sentimental.

"Jungkook please" you chuckle "move on?"

You lift your eyes and they meet his doe ones, he should really hear how silly he sounds.

"Yeah, I don't want to make you feel tied to me. You you can move on find some dude who's already done his service and start the life you want" even though it leaves a burning bitter taste on his tongue and heart, he says it anyways. He doesn't even mean a single word, if he could he'd take you with him or he wouldn't even go.

You don't even react to him, knowing he's just spewing nonsense.

"And you'd be okay with that me starting a life with someone else?"

No.  Of course not. He'd rip the dude's head off once he found him.

"If it's what you want" you can hear the lies through his tone and demeanour.  You know jungkook wouldn't want that, he hates the idea and you know it would kill him cause it kills you too.

"You're acting like you're going away forever" you force a smile, it isn't forever but even a day away from him feels like eternity, what more him being away for months?

You hear him release a chuckle.

"Plus I've given you 4 years of my life, why would I throw that away. Its not like when you leave I'll stop loving you. Yeah I will miss you, yes I will cry but its not gonna hurt so bad that'd I'd want to move on or find someone else"

He listens to you and is happy you feel like that cause he does too, he could honestly just propose to you now but he'll still do it after.

"Babyy" he coos. He stands and walks up to you, immediately turning you around and capturing your cheeks with his palms. It's the first time he's heard how you feel about it, but in all honesty it's the first time you've just talked about it. There's still more to talk about but today's a good start.

"I'm going to miss you soooo much" he places a peck on your lips and you place your hands on his waist.

"I'll think about you everyday, I'll go through everyday knowing I'm a day closer to coming back to you. I'll do this so I can come back to you an we can make all the weird faced cookies of yours"

He kisses you softly again. You just lean into his kiss.

"Promise me something jungkook" your lips are only millimetres from his.

"Yeah baby"

"Don't think about me too much okay" you stroke his sides more to comfort yourself,those tears you've been holding are making their way. Jungkook holds you tighter noticing.

"I can't do that. I don't like lying"

And the flood gates open. This is gonna be harder than you thought.

The smell of the sweet cookies makes jungkook smile and he's already blushed cheek blush more. He pulls one out.

He let's out a laugh.

"Kept the weird faces huh?" he smiles and takes a bite, tastes like comfort and everything's he's been missing.

"Why would I change them. Told you the weirder the sweeter" you speak happiness in your tone cause you've finally gotten to see him. You grab a cookie from the bag and take a bite aswell. After having a couple more he rolls up the bags and packs it.

"I should hide these before someone else wants some" you chuckle at his words. Jungkook isn't the most generous when it comes to the things you make for him and he's not afraid to admit that.

"Not even one?" You mock.

"Nope. They can go tell their girlfriends to do that." He adjusts his uniform that you've been admiring him in. "But most of the guys don't have girlfriends so that's a shame for them" you both laugh.

"How's your friend jimin." You ask suddenly remembering him. Jungkook's surprised you remember him but again how can you forget the person you made you two start dating.

"He's okay. Been kicking his ass in training though" he pats himself on the shoulder with his tone.

"Take it easy on him,"  you try an bargain for jimin.

"There's no time for nursery care here baby" he stretches his hand out for you to take it and you do.

"Want me to show you my room?" He says pulling you towards a building.  He feels your hesitation and turns to you with a lifted brow.

"Am I even allowed there?" You bite your inner cheek.

"Yeah I can get permission if you want though."

You'd prefer he gets permission first you don't need him in trouble. And so you nod which hums to.

You start walk to jungkook's superior's office.

"Did I tell you how strong your hand feels" you say admiring the veins on his hands and the way he holds your hand for dear life.

"Is it?" He squeezes your hand slightly.

"Yep, gonna put them to work when you get back home" you rejoice swinging his arm.

"Is working ever gonna end for me?"  He whines.

"Nope.Never"

[tteokdoroki]

Look me in the eye tell Nagi doesn’t stand behind his girlfriend groping her boobs like stress ball. Non sexual. Just squish 💀🥲

grabs you by the face and looks you directly in the eye - you are so right!!! 

you hear the jingle of his keys and the door opening before you see him but don’t bother to look up as you work on finishing off the dishes. 

on good days, nagi greets you with a call of your name — languidly, albeit excitedly, making his way to whatever room you respond from so he can flop into your lap and have you play with his hair as a way to wind down. today, there’s nothing but silence only interrupted by pockets of nagi’s sneakers squeaking against the hardwood floors of your homey hallways before the warmth of his chest is pressed up against your back. 

“hey baby,” you coo, voice brimming with considerateness and affection as you continue to wash dishes from the night before. “bad day?” 

seishiro makes a noncommittal noise before his head drops to your neck, snow white locks tickling just under your chin while his hands settle on the gentle slope of your waist — itching to move upwards.

“wanna talk about it?” 

“mmh, no. don’t wanna be a bother.” he replies absentmindedly, twirling a loose thread on the hem of your (his) shirt to distract from the thoughts weighing heavy on your mind. “s’too much of a drag to think about anyways.” 

as nonchalant as your boyfriend presents, you can always tell when something irks him a little more than usual. “ you’re never a bother to me, seishiro. don’t be silly, feeling like this might go away if you tell me.” you choose your words carefully, hearing him hum against your shoulder as his lashes flutter against your skin. nagi’s quieter when he’s in a bad mood, his face is usually blank but his deep grey eyes will tell all — so as you lean forward to place a plate on the drying rack, you spare nagi a knowing glance. 

your shirt rides up when you lean forward and so do his large and calloused hands, reaching your supple chest before you can even realise. blue lock’s genius lets out a sigh of relief as he squeezes your breasts between his fingers — choosing that exact moment to speak. 

he’s just happy that you’re wearing nothing underneath his clothes. “i think reo’s mad at me again.” 

“oh baby, what makes you say that?” resuming your task, you rinse the suds off of your favourite mug and listen intently — smiling to yourself when your boyfriend gives you another squeeze. 

“i dunno…i got partnered up with isagi for drills today…” nagi pushes your boobs up and breathes out in content, rolling the warm mounds of flesh in the palms of his hands. “‘n he just seemed mad, bringing up the fact that i chose isagi over him at the second selection. such a pain. s’been years, shouldn’t he be like… over it?” squeeze. 

proud of him for communicating his feelings properly, you angle your head to give nagi a kiss to the side of his own. he bristles at the warm contact of your lips against his skin, letting your chest go with one hand to draw loving patterns over your tummy. 

“i can see why he might be hurt or upset but, like you said, it has been years and you needed to do what you thought was best, to become the best.” you shrug simply, ignoring the heat bubbling below your surface as seishiro squeezes and pinches and massages all of the places that make tick. you decide to worry about that later, because right now all he needs is comfort and stress relief. “you didn’t do anything wrong baby, but if this is still bothering you by tomorrow then you’ll need to talk to reo about it, kay?”

these a beat of silence where nagi trails kisses down from your neck to your shoulder before slumping against you entirely. “yeah okay, it’ll be a hassle. but i will.” he mumbles, dropping his arms to wrap securely around your waist — with no intention of letting you go. “can we go for a nap now? my feet hurt ‘n i wanna lie on your boobs.” 

“seishiro, i’ve been letting you cop a feel for the last ten minutes!” you squeal as he pinches up your sides again, playfully. “these dishes aren’t gonna do themselves!”

you feel the white-haired player smirk against you, nuzzling his head into the junction of your neck one more. this time he sneaks his hand under the cotton material to pinch one of your nipples, 

 “dishes can wait, you know it feels better if i touch you when my clothes aren’t in the way, angel.” 

[iwaoiness]

Oikawa's problematic phone case

Without any doubt, Iwaizumi is the only person in the world who is able to look so fucking hot in his ID picture without even trying. His golden skin, his hair in that natural state of spiky, his forehead relaxed without any wrinkles, that piercing in his eyebrow that he got in his first year at Irvine and that Tooru still shivers over, his eyes staring at the camera with an intensity in their greenish hue that takes breath away, his lips curved in a small lopsided smile, a shadow of dimple on his cheek, his jaw well marked by the lights, his chin slightly elevated.

Hajime sent it during one of his video calls while telling him about his day; the soda Oikawa was drinking at that moment shot out of his nose when he choked while opening the picture. Early in the morning, he stood in the nearest copy shop to his house to request eight copies, still blushing, heart racing, and ears still ringing from Iwaizumi's deep-playful-stupid-hot laugh and his Do I look so hot that it makes the great Oikawa-senshu this nervous?

One of those copies ended up in his grey silicone case (which actually matched Iwaizumi's, his with a chubby dinosaur drawing in the bottom corner asking What are u doing?; Oikawa's, with another smiling dinosaur hugging the rest of Iwasaurus missing tail, answering Miss you, hug me!), accompanying him everywhere for months along with a small family photo with his parents, sister and Takeru.

However, one night, during an interview on a popular and prestigious TV show, Oikawa completely forgot that he changed his usual cover for a transparent one and took out his mobile phone in the middle of the interview to show the presenter a really embarrassing video of Matias, his friend and San Juan's starting blocker.

And, of course, Tooru's loud and intense fandom erupted the minute they noticed (thanks to damn high-definition cameras that might as well show gaping pores in close-up as reveal a years-long relationship with a really hot athletic trainer) Hajime's photograph on his IPhone case.

Social media was abuzz with dozens of screenshots from different angles, threads about conspiracy theories (Hanamaki's favourite was that Oikawa had the wrong phone and used the phone of a technical member of the programme; Matsukawa's that Hajime was Tooru's older brother), civil wars between fans over who was more right until only a day later it was revealed (thanks to one Suna Rintaro) that the strange boy was Iwaizumi Hajime, the hot athletic trainer of Birtwistle University and the Japan Men's National Volleyball Team.

And there was no shortage of hashtags like #IwaizumiHajime27AthleticTrainer, #LGBTooru, #BiRighToorus, #IwaOi that became worldwide TT and the grotesque rise of followers on Hajime's official account and also Oikawa's own.

"You had to use a fucking transparent case" Hajime speaks when it's finally his turn to come to Argentina. He's sitting on the bed with Tooru propped up next to him, blinking at the memes that continue to pop up on his TL even though it's been a month of what Oikawa's fans have already dubbed IwaOi National Day. "You have a drawer full, full, of ridiculous phone cases and you pick the one that's transparent."

"I already said it was unintentional, Iwa-chan! Unintentional!" Oikawa protests, crossing his arms as he makes a pout that Hajime finds truly endearing. "I'd better have kept the picture that auntie took of you when you were nine years old and got stuck in the cat flap," he mutters, but Iwaizumi hears him clearly and Tooru squeals as a pillow hits his face, nearly knocking him off the bed.

...

the cute phone case inspired this drabble

as always thank u sm and u can find me on my ao3 🍉

[birgittesilverbae]

thinking of babea au and that first night with bea washing the blood out of her hair in cat’s cradle, listening to the hush of mary’s voice outside the shower room and its rows of empty yawning cubicles. how her father’s mouth let go a haze of blood as he fell, warm on her face and bea turning the water freezing cold, twisting the dial furiously and sitting hunched up against the wall watching red and pink water slip past her bare feet.

they find the smallest clothes they can but she’s still half-drowned and shivering in an overlarge t-shirt, mary brushing the gnarls out of her hair and braiding it almost without thinking. in mary’s apartment and bea waking from nightmares where she’s lying in the street and there’s so much blood it spills into her ears and her mouth and her eyes.

years later she’s asleep in lilith’s arms and she wakes up coughing and retching, scrambling to the edge of the bed. turning to see lilith watching her, tugging the blankets over as she joins bea on her side of the narrow bed they’re sharing. and sometimes this life doesn’t feel big enough for two. ghosts lingering in the light that crawls in from underneath the door.

lilith, who wraps them both in the blanket and pulls bea close, telling her that she used to wake up from nightmares in her mother’s house. no one to go looking for who wouldn’t tell her to grow up, to find her composure and her quiet.

‘i used to walk around the house with a candle and switch on the lights in my father’s study. then i’d go outside and sit down among the asphodels - did you know they’re supposed to be the flowers of the dead. a favourite of Hades?’

beatrice nodding and feeling lilith’s lips brush over the angle of her jaw. ‘of course you know that.’

sinking into lilith’s warmth as she continues. ‘i’d look up at that light and imagine him inside, stooped over his books. the smell of pipe tobacco and stale coffee. it felt like i was a ship lost out at sea and the light in the window was the shore.’

lilith gradually drawing her back down to their pillow, letting bea cling to her. in the morning they wake up slow in the same position and beatrice kisses lilith until her mouth is sore.

thinking of beatrice who hides her grief in cold water and then inside of lilith’s mouth. lilith going with her one day to lay asphodels on her parents’ grave and holding her hand. lilith standing in the shower with bea and washing blood out of her hair after a mission, noticing how bea starts to fall away towards her younger smaller helpless self. pulling her back with a kiss and the silent promise that lingers between them.

to be the light in each other’s darkness

mary, straddling the locker room bench, raises the brush, gestures towards her. "do you want help?"

anger prickling in her chest. she's not a child, she's not- she'd simply had a moment of weakness, in searching out mary's arms as blood dripped down her own. "i'm perfectly capable-"

"i didn't ask whether you needed help, beatrice. i asked if you wanted it." she raises the brush again, face open, welcoming. "i know i would have when i was your age. that's all."

beatrice's shoulders sag, and she plucks absently at the folds of shirt that balloon around her, her gaze solidly on the floor tiles. "i can do it," she repeats, reaching for the brush, and mary passes it to her.

she starts at the bottom of her hair, as her mother had taught her, working the tangles out with short strokes. there's a pressure on the back of her head, immaterial, tilting her forward to get better access to the nape of her neck. her mother gently working the brush free of the tangles that always formed there just out of beatrice's reach, dropping a kiss on the crown of her head when the pull turned unintentionally sharp and beatrice winced away from the motion.

the hair at the base of her skull is matted together, now, and her hands aren't as agile as her mother's had been, not yet. practice, she'd told her over piano keys and hair brush strokes and the awkward shape of her writing, you'll improve with practice.

but she hasn't had enough time to learn, and the brush is buried deep in her hair and any movement of it sends sharp pains through her scalp and- and tears are streaming down her face. her mother is never again going to carefully work knots from her hair when she comes in from the garden with her head as much leaf litter as hair.

a tissue is pressed into her palm, a careful hand uncurls her fingers from their tight grasp around the handle of the hair brush. beatrice's chest heaves and she's met with careful touches and a low rumble of soft words. her mother's hands had always been cool, had always felt such a balm on her forehead when she laid ill in bed. the hand on the back of her neck now is almost feverishly warm, but the care mary takes with the brush is the same as she works it loose from beatrice's hair.

"my first foster mother," mary says, voice as gentle as her hands, "didn't understand that she needed to treat my hair differently than her own. that caring for Black hair was a whole separate skill." she works the brush free, starts in carefully on beatrice's hair as beatrice scrubs the tissue across her face. "and i was too scared to speak up, even when she cut my hair with kitchen shears to make it easier for her to look after." her hand cups beatrice's shoulder, squeezes. "i want you to tell me what you want, what you need, okay?"

bestrice nods, stilted. "okay."

[suburbanbonfire]

tagged by @18minutemajor for a hockey art share tag game! I enjoy talking about myself but am terrible at posting so this is perfect. i WILL talk too much, this is a threat.

rules: post your first ever hockey art, your latest hockey art, and your favourite hockey art, then tag three hockey artists.

FIRST ART

I made the Kraken Orb (Korb) at the end of the 22-23 season, as a commemoration, although a sort of ironic one considering i had only gotten into hockey in time for the playoffs so there are a couple players here i actually never got to see play at all before making this (Joonas, Jaycob, Burky, Fleury)

it was a whole lot of fun though! Prior to this i was in a months-long art slump after leaving a fandom, so it was a total surprise to have hockey of all things be what revitalized my art.

technically, the very first hockey art from this was Matty; you can kinda tell by the way his lines are a bit thicker than the rest since i wasn't in my groove yet. i also knew coming in that i wanted to arrange the faces in a circle, but didn't plan out beyond that, so i just made sure that i was getting a variety of head directions in my references and hoped for the best. My favorites from this are Gru, Soucy, Dunn, Schultz, Borgen, and Eeli. I think they all turned out really well.

LATEST ART

MEAT CUT MEAT CUT

this one is fun for me because it's quite different from my usual style of art, with lineart and non-realistic forms/face. I've had the concept in my head for awhile after hearing/reading so many interesting descriptions of the physical qualities that good hockey players possess.

'Sacrifice the Body' actually came in mid-art when i had an epiphany doing something like driving my car or an activity similarly unrelated. Before that, it was going to be a lil heart drawn on the chest and the going contender for the label was 'Ferda.' which would've been great, but sacrifice the body just worked too dang well with the themes.

FAVORITE ART

i mean, c'mon. it's gotta be this one.

my magnum opus, my white whale. it came out even better than i saw it in my head and i love everything about it. when i came up with the idea, i had TOTALLY forgotten that Climate Pledge has those giant windows, so when i set out to find references and saw it, it instantly made everything even better with LIGHTING!!!!

It was my first time drawing this kind of interior architecture and although there's definitely things i would do differently now, im so so proud of how it looks and turned out. I was also still drawing through my decade-old laptop at that point, so I had to split up the work on this into two files - i sketched everything, then worked ONLY on the bg until it was about 90% done, then made a flattened copy to open as a new file to draw the players on top of.

I also have a bunch of WIP shots of it in my drafts I guess I'll throw in here now!

initial sketch to get down the composition before i remembered the window | lines of the building! i actually found a 3d virtual tour of CPA from before it was built which had the PERFECT angle, so i screencapped that and straight up traced the architecture. Ultimately, the scoreboard and the paint lines ended up getting moved around.

planning out my lighting in greyscale (i really need to do this more often, i struggle with values so much, alas) | in progress bg! at this point, the ice and the boards/glass were the only things completed. I eventually said 'fuck it' to being able to see the areas behind the stands like you could in all my references, and just put the people dots all the way up.

Now the most gut-wrenching part

THE TAGS

this is where me being bad at posting comes into play, because instead i just lurk and thats not great for forming connections HERE GOES

@ruinedcasket - it has been awesome seeing your art progress! would love 2 hear your thoughts about it

@rouzys - your kraken stuff is so pretty, love how you capture likenesses

oh god oh fuck everyone else i know has already been tagged fuck oh sshit

If You Are An Artist On Hockey Twit And See This, It Is A Sign

[katyspersonal]

Tagging game

Tagged by @bimbomcgee

Nickname: Kat, or Katy! Rom or Hina if you are very intimate with me and Rina if you want to be dead instantly

Sign: You really have any doubts? It's fuckin' Aries, binch!

Height: Boring generic 165 cm (5'4''). I love extremities, I'd love to be either very short or very tall.

Last thing I googled: 'Elden Ring Alberich face data'. Look at these mfers and tell me they are not implied to be related, especially considering that they are both big people in regards to Roundtable Hold:

Bonus - at first I misread this field as 'last thing I DOODLED' so here you can look at the result of me and Val having been drawing on Whiteboard and him mishearing me say "they added shapes" as "they added apes":

Sorry for NFT Boc everyone </3

Amount of sleep: From 4 hours to 4, it depends. I love consistency.... xD

Dream job: I want to work with plants... I just want to tend to flowers. Unfortunately spots like this are seldom open. Alternatively, I'd love a boring office job with buncha boring documents and high salary. Just take me somewhere where I won't have to interact with people -_-" You think I am not very social online, but in real life I get aggroed when a person I am not pals with as much as says my name!

Wearing: I am in my pajamas because it is 9 AM and I need to go to job soon! It is silly light blue one with pink flowers :3

Movies/books/media that summarize you: I used to have more interesting answer, but at this point my personality IS Soulsb0rne. I don't have to elaborate, just have a discussion with me that last longer than 10 minutes and you will understand. (and also probably go insane xD) However, if you really want to understand me well, you should also be familiar with Undert4le and Delt4rune, and also Mad0ka (ESPECIALLY Magia Record) and Gravity F4lls!

Favorite song: I don't have favourite song of all times, and in general it's been years of me not listening to music as it should be and instead abusing music as a podcast while drawing... This is one of the favourites since childhood tho:

Why it was so hard to find the subbed version... т.т

Instrument: None, but I often have dreams of playing piano! Makes sense because it is like, a dream haha.. hah

Aesthetic: It used to be all flowers and nature and blooming but Bloodb0rne seriously skewed it towards water and space and eldrich abominations.....

Favorite author: Lmao I don't read sorry dfshfsdhfd xD Focus issues! I read a couple of sentences and end up thinking of them from every possible angle, imagine every possible scenario, put them through my own memories and feelings..... and hella time sips away. Rom has MANY eyes, she should scrutinise the concept with EACH of them @_@ However, Dostoevsky and Bulgakov really pulled me <3 Dostoevsky has absolutely unrivaled fucking Russian depression in his works that I haven't found elsewhere, and Bulgakov just.. pulled religious themes so well, and I love his fucking CHARACTERS, so iconic xd If you read Master and Margarita you'll get it! (Crow I know you here LOVE classic Russian literature!)

random fun fact: I am in the walking distance from the sea! x) Could not have had it any other way, haha.

I tag: (You tagged some of our mutuals now already I guess?) @wikipedianna @lizteaart @val-of-the-north @saint--adeline @jarognieva @cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme @bobbyzombiegg @greenblueyulum

[the-kr8tor]

Woo today's my momma's birthday! I apologise if this is short because of it lol Daily Hobie HC! Hobie would be the most gorgeous muse- like he looks good every angle. Your sketchbook is filled with multiple unfinished and finished scribbles of this gorgeous man, and he doesn't mind it at all. He likes seeing the way you'll glance up at him with a small smile as he rambles on about any possible projects he's thinking of pursuing while both of you have hot cocoa, with yours still only having been drank half-way on the bedside table. Hobie knows you're listening by the way you're still able to ask relevant questions, pointing out any possible flaws in his projects when he asks for feedback on his plan so he can completely proof it. All while, your pencil works flawlessly (flaw-fully, in your mind) on your page, outlining every detail, working to add shading and lighting to your messy sketch of him. You look up momentarily, staring closely at his eyes. It flusters him whenever you do so, but he's learned to press it down and keep his nonchalant demeanor..for now. He admires the way you can depict him so perfectly on page, whether your reference is a photo on your phone, or just him moving around and talking. He loves the way you manage to get all the details, such as his dimples whenever he beams at you, or just the way his nose slightly scrunches up when he's slightly groggy. Although you dont have a full proper sketch, he notices your little doodles in the corners of the pages, usually showing him in some more extravagant action that you aren't ready to do a detailed sketch of. Either way, he loves every single one of your pieces, and he will always feel honored that you love to use him as your muse. His favourite piece of yours is one you swear to burn every time you see it..yet it's still in one piece. You had tried to sketch him out playing his guitar, yet it didn't meet your standards. Hobie had to practically pickpocket it out of your hands to prevent you from ripping it. He keeps it as a folded note somewhere hidden in his room, teasing you with it whenever you come to hang out. Every time you draw him, he's learned that he can't properly get how much he loves it across to you with words, so he immediately goes to attack your face with big kisses, not stopping until he hears your laughter and you surrendering, admitting that it's good. AAAAAAAAA- -🐦‍⬛

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO 🐦‍⬛ ANON'S MOM!!! Tell her Happy birthday for me and I wish her lots of 🎂🎂🎂 💕

Daily Hobie HC!!!

This reminds me sm of my older artist! Reader fic right here!!! (I ate here ngl) I bet this is what happened after it!

This is so cute!!!!! I honestly think he'd subtly stop what he's doing and pose for you once he realizes you're drawing him 🥺🥺🥺

Oh him loving every piece of art you do even though you don't has me all 🥰🥰😍😍 (his hand in marriage pls) and Him keeping it all to himself?! 😭😭😭😭😭😭 I bet he has it all in one box for safekeeping

[sunshinesteviee]

Congrats on 8k !!! For 'Everywhere everything' one of my favourite songs of all time is 'nothing' by Bruno major !! "There's nothing like doing nothing with you" literally just soft domestic Steve <33

hi love!! thank you so much! and i'm so sorry this took me a bit, i hope you like it!! it didn't exactly turn out how i wanted it to but i think it's ok still lol

-

There are so many things you love about living with Steve. You balance each other out in so many ways; he likes cooking (it makes you want to pull your hair out), and you like doing laundry (he can’t fold things nicely for the life of him). He never leaves without giving you a kiss and telling you how much he loves you. Every night you fall asleep safe in his arms. Your favorite thing about living with him, though, are the times you do nothing together. The moments after doing chores all day, or getting home from work, when you can collapse onto the couch and just be with him. 

Steve is sprawled out on the cushions on his back, one arm tucked behind his head on the pillows, and one of his legs bent up but nearly falling off of the couch. Your position is similar, though half of your body is laying over Steve’s; a leg hitched up around his waist, an arm tucked around his torso, your ear pressing to his chest just above his heart. 

Your apartment is quiet, save for the soft music that you’d been listening to while cleaning. It’d been playing at full volume while cleaning, but you’d turned it down when you’d finished for the day. Steve’s heartbeat is steady beneath you as he lets out a huge yawn, shaking his head slightly in an attempt to wake himself up, “Cleaning wears me out.”

Laughing softly, you angle your head to look at him, the tip of your nose rubbing against his jaw, “Oh, is that why you leave your clothes all over the floor?”

He gasps, an indignant sound, and presses his hand into the small of your back lightly to let you know he’s just joking as he replies, “Rude!” His fingers search down for the hem of your shirt and push up into your skin once he finds it, fingertips tracing up the length of your spine. 

“Kidding, baby,” you murmur with a giggle, tilting your chin up to kiss his jaw. “We don’t have anything else to do today. We can just lay here.”

“Perfect, ‘cause I’m not planning on letting you up.” His arm tightens around your middle, his fingers splaying over your skin, as if to prove his point, and plants a kiss to your hairline.

“Fine by me, bub.” You settle back into Steve’s side, fingertips tracing small shapes into the fabric of his shirt. “I love doing nothing with you.” 

“Yeah?” Steve asks, lifting his head up from the pillow so he can actually see you, the corners of his lips tugging up with the hint of a smile. 

“Yeah,” you affirm, returning the smile as you shift up onto an elbow to see his face more clearly. “Of course. As long as I’m with you, I’m happy.” 

Steve grins, a bright light in the dark of your living room, thanks to the setting sun. The hand that had been behind his head moves to cup your cheek gently, “Me too. Could do nothing with you forever.” 

His palm is warm against your face, and the drag of his thumb over your cheekbone has you leaning into his touch with a content hum, your eyes fluttering shut, “Forever. I like the sound of that.” Truthfully, if this was forever, you wanted nothing more. 

“Mhm,” Steve nods, drawing your face in towards his so he can place another kiss to your forehead, “Forever. Just you and me, baby.” 

You can barely take the softness with which he says it, and your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt as your eyes squeeze together tightly. His hand shifts on your face so his thumb can reach your nose, and it traces down the bridge lightly. He taps the tip of your nose and then drops his hand down, brushing his thumb over your lips, causing your eyes to flicker open. The look he’s giving you is slightly mischievous, and you can’t help but grin as his thumb presses into your chin, fingers hooking underneath to close the space between the two of you, his lips pressing to yours firmly. 

Your heart races in your chest as you kiss him back, your hand traveling on its own accord to Steve’s hair, the soft strands sifting through your fingers. His arm around your waist pulls at you until you’re more or less laying on top of him, and he breaks the kiss with a gasping breath, the tip of his nose rubbing against yours, “Love you so much.” 

A soft laugh escapes as you press another soft peck to Steve’s lips, “I love you, too, baby. Really like this version of doing nothing, by the way.” 

join the celebration!!!

[i-like-the-eyes]

Hi! For the artist ask game: 1, 6 and 7

Hey there! Thanks for the ask!<3

Number 1 got already answered here btw: Link

6 - Favourite/least favourite angles/perspectives to draw:

Tough one...I think drawing a face that is looking directly into "the camera" is tricky and I tend to avoid it (But not always. I'm actually working on one of those, too). I prefer side views or 3/4 views or however it's called.

You can tell I'm a real artist cause I don't know shit about most terms xD

I'm not sure about which perspective I actually like/despise. For me it's more about the general vibe of the pose. Not sure if that makes sense for anyone who isn't me tho.

7 - What are some artists that have inspired you?

Funny thing: I don't really get inspiration from other people who draw.

Most of my inspiration comes from music. So... Rise Against, Mother Mother, Imminence, Ice Nine kills (still find it funny that Spencer is looking a lot like my OC Vitus).... Sometimes you're listening to a song and it just...hits you. Across the head. With the hammer of creativity.

[thesilvercondor]

tfw you have access to one of the most highly classified items on the planet, but it happens to be Cool Tech so you decide to break the law to show it to your favourite uncle

(image id under the cut)

[IMAGE ID: a dodgily-drawn comic. it is worth noting that while noland is very expressive, anabel looks totally stoic and professional throughout. ANABEL (carrying a box): Hello may I store something in your Factory? I'm busy for a few days and can't be bothered going all the way to Alola to store it in the Taskforce HQ. NOLAND (looks vaguely confused): Don't you live in Alola?? What are you even doing here in Hoenn-? ANABEL (holds out box. it has 'Cool Alien Tech' scribbled on the side, alongside a drawing of the kind of suit that Zossie and Dulse wear in USUM): I'm totally sure this is the safest place to put it so zero people are aware of it and/or will touch it. NOLAND (looks vaguely worried): -what- Anabel, is this the Ultra Recon Squad suit?? From Ultra Space?? Are you even allowed to leave this with me?? ANABEL: You must understand, Noland, that whatever is in this box is a state secret that I cannot *tell* you about. Also my boss has threatened to jail me if I give anyone *explicit permission to touch it*. ANABEL: So I cannot give anyone. Explicit. Permission. NOLAND (having understood that Anabel is telling him about it and giving him explicit permission to touch it, he is now cross-legged on the floor, opening the box with stars in his eyes) How does it work tell me everything (there are then a series of four panels, showing Anabel slowly and deliberately grabbing Noland's hand, and saying "Oh no. I dropped something." as she places a USB stick in his hand. It presumably contains Large Amounts of Classified Information.) ANABEL: Also, I'll be back on Wednesday at 3am to test the suit in the abandoned building near the Staff Quarters, because I can reasonably expect no one to see me doing top-secret stuff there, given that it is an unusual time in a restricted-access area. (panel showing Noland in front of the box. he's holding the USB stick and staring at it with large eyes and a look of wonderment. behind him there is a splash text that says ‘KNOWLEDGE’. He's also taken out the URS helmet from the box. from this angle, another label on the box is visible, saying 'TOP SECRET (INTERPOL)'.) (a final small sketch shows Noland hugging Anabel so tightly that their faces are smushed together) NOLAND: this is the best day of my life ANABEL: i will see you on wednesday END IMAGE ID]

[bryntrainorelective]

KANE PROCESS

I started to design Kane in a normal idle pose, since we were assigned it for homework.

We were to follow the process shown below, and go upto the final step, which is what we will be starting tomorrow.

The first step was the colour palette. We had to create a 5 colour palette for our characters. I chose the 5 colours below because I wanted them to be relatively muted and bland apart from the colour of the lights, which are bright and neon.

So the next thing was to decide on the silhouette, which was the activity in my last post, which I wasn't really a fan of. It didn't help me too much. All I knew was I wanted the character to have oversized clothes with some shagginess to them, which I did end up with.

I wanted the shagginess because jagged edges on characters sometimes imply speed and edginess, and I want my character to look nimble and stealthy, so I thought about giving him a jagged cloak that he can take off when he needs to. I wanted the oversized aspect to make the character look small, as Kane isn't supposed to be large, he is thin and short.

The outfit I made was inspired by cyberpunk fashion. Here's an example of Cyberpunk Fashion I found:

Anyway, the first thing I did was find a pose, we just had to do an idle pose so I didn't do too much with it, just someone standing on an angle. I saw a photo online which I used for reference which is in my moodboard. I thought the pose was cool so I tried to draw a figure in it, I think it turned out pretty well.

Next I started sketching the character over the pose. I did this twice because I couldn't really base a good line drawing over the first sketch. The second sketch had a little more detail than the first which made it easier to draw over.

This is when everything started to kind of come together in my head, I was able to decide on details, such as the buckle on the shirt, and what the mask looked like.

I finished the actual line drawing, and decided I wanted a piece of fabric to come off the scarf area on the neck. I also added much more detail to the mask, and decided which areas I wanted to light up, which were the areas around the gas cylinder things and the part in the center over the mouth.

We were required to create 3 grayscale value sets for this, just to see what different colour schemes might look like.

My favourite is the top left one, as I wanted Kane to have darker attire, and dirty blonde hair, so it fit my vision the best out of the three.

Next we had to create three colour schemes. I already kinda had a vision for what colours I wanted to include, so I didn't do 3 because I already knew what I was going to choose, since I'd already thought about this previously.

I coloured it in with the colours I had in mind. I wanted a super super subtle dark green on the clothing, as I thought it looked pretty cool. You pretty much can't even tell it's green. I wanted the hair to be dirty blonde, as I think it kinda works with the green lights in a weird way. But overall I like this colour scheme. I also only chose to have lights on the face because Kane uses stealth, lots of lights stands out too much, so he only had them on his mask and in his eyes.

Then I added shadows and Highlights, and some glow around the lights. I did the shadows a little differrent this time, as I was kind of sick of the jagged edges on all my previous works. I used the normal process, but then afterwards I'd erase the edges with a soft low opactiy erasor, this made them fade into dark rather than just have solid edges.

Then I added some dirtiness to the cloak because it looked too flat, along with some other details here and there.

This is the final product, I added a couple more neon lights because I thought it made the character look more interesting and complete. I'm pretty happy with how it turned out, but I feel like I could've made it better if I had more time. But I guess we're saving our time for the actual poster rather than just the standing design, so it makes sense.

I'm excited to try making the poster, I think it'll be fun.

[bananaminbaby]

Who in Haikyuu is the best in bed?

pairings: Kuroo x reader, Sakusa x reader, Hinata x reader, Bokuto x reader, Mattsun x reader

cw: 18+ content - minors dni, pussy eating, fingering, creampie, mattsun's big dick

note: unfortunately i cant include this in the series since its sfw only, but i like this kind of asks, keep them coming

Kuroo

He teases a lot. Kuroo knows how the game works. He knows when to play hard and when to take it slow. Which is why everytime his cock is in your tight hole, he'd leave you in a crying mess. His cock always angled to that spot that makes you gush more and his hands always busy groping your boobs, your ass or any part of your body.

He can tell from the way you moan and your pussy clench that you are close. So he slows down his pace, alternating between grinding his hips and slow deep thrusts. He focuses more on whatever it is his lips are on. He loves kissing you and your body. Definitely a body worshipper.

"God, kitten... you taste so good, almost as good as how you feel around my dick."

Sakusa

As much as he says he hates germs and contact with people. I think he's one of the best when it comes to pussy eating. He's neat right? He'll make sure he laps any juices that gushes out of you and pushes it back in.

He's not shy with using his hands either. He's always got at least two fingers burried in your cunt and his other drawing circles on your clit. And if you try to close your legs on him, one arm is enough to push you legs against your stomach and hold it down in that position while he continues to devour your cunt like a starved man.

"Mmhmm... Give me another one baby, I know you can do it- come on my tongue and fingers, angel."

Hinata

This man lived in Brazil, you think he didn't learn a thing or two? He's very eager to experiment. No matter how weird you think it is when you suggest it to him, he'll always agree to try it first. His motto is to always try it first before saying no.

I also imagine he has a hairy chest, and despite all of the positions that you've tried with him, his favourite is still missionary. He loves having the best seat to looking at how his cock dives in and out of you, how you tits jiggle at every thrust and how your face scrunch up in pleasure. He loves placing his hands on your hips, pushing it down as he fucks into you. He doesn't care how loud of a noise it makes because all he can hear is your screams of pleasure.

"Louder, princess... Let everyone hear that I make you feel so good everytime we fuck."

Bokuto

I think he gets pussy drunk. He'll get so lost in the feeling of how his dick is wrapped around your warm and tight cunt, that he'll start thrusting like crazy. He cums heavily too. But don't worry, he's got the stamina and cum to last for a few hours.

Every fuck session, he needs to have his balls emptied- preferably in you. His cock would often have a white ring around it, and because of how quick he is fucking you, a string of cum connects your hips. And like Kuroo, his hands would also be looking for something to hold on to. But more so because he too stimulated and he needs something to ground him.

"Ah... Ah.. Fuck, baby, s-so tight. I-ah! I'm gonna cum, you ready baby? I-I'm gonna cum in you."

Mattsun

He's got a big dick. Sure, big dicks don't mean a good fuck if he can't use it well. But the thing is, he does know how to use it. Every time you have sex with him, your pussy always feels the stretch. The stretch so delicious, filling and brushing against every inch of your cunt. He gets cocky every time you start whining about how big his dick is, he'll smirk and tease you, grinding his hips so that you'll feel more of him.

Or if he's feeling mean, he'll pull out, and now you're left with an empty cunt and you hate nothing more than that. He'll make you beg for it while he fucks his fist in front of you. And when he does put it back in, he won't listen to the next time you whine about his big dick because he knows that you enjoy it as much as he does.

"Oh poor bunny... Looks like your cunt is too tiny to fit my cock. But thats okay, we'll make it work, don't we?"

[atlasbarnes]

bruised knuckles, bleeding heart ; frank castle

frank castle x gn!reader. through several late nights of patching frank up, you realise you’re in love with him (and he’s in love with you). mentions of blood, injury, canon typical violence. this is my first frank fic in AGES, sorry if he’s a bit ooc, let me know your thoughts!

masterlist.

You knew exactly what was on the other side of your door before you even opened it. Frank was leaning against the door frame, blood running down his face, a lazy grin plastered across his face.

“Hey, how’s your night going?” He asks, nonchalant, like he wasn’t bleeding out on your doorstep.

“Get your ass inside, Castle,” you say, half serious, half joking, as you close the door behind him.

This was a routine at this point, Frank would come to you when he needed patching up, and you’d try to swallow your comments and worries.

Sitting him down on the stool in your bathroom, you take out the medicine kit you kept under the sink for him. From first glance, you spot bruises and a nasty cut above his eyebrow that would require stitching. But you knew from experience that there would be more hidden under his clothes.

Gently pressing the cotton swab to his cuts, you feel his arm wrap around your waist, pulling you closer. You tell yourself it’s nothing, it’s so you can get a better angle on cleaning his face. He barely moves, only flinching softly when you get to his deeper cut.

“This is gonna need stitches,” you tell him, reaching for the needle in your kit.

There’s a flicker of worry in his eyes, something you wouldn’t notice if you hadn’t been here countless times before. Stitches were always his least favourite thing, he would lie and say they didn’t hurt, but you could tell by his hitched breathing and white knuckles that he was lying.

He doesn’t say anything as you cradle his face, holding him in place as you sew the cut closed. Part of you wants to let your hand linger there, to see what he would do. But you knew Frank, you knew his past and his fears. You didn’t want to add to the already heavy burden he carried on his shoulders.

It’s when you finish the stitches on his forehead that you realised you should have started with his chest, trying to take his shirt off without bothering the stitches was going to prove difficult.

“What’re you thinkin’?” He asks, noticing the frown on your face.

“How I’m gonna get your shirt off without ripping your stitches,” you muse.

“Darlin’, if you wanted me to take my clothes off you should’ve just asked,” he replies, voice smooth as honey.

That draws a loud laugh from you, “you’re impossible, Castle.”

Carefully, you help him pull his shirt over his head, discarding it somewhere in the corner of the room.

“Shit, Frank. Tonight was tough, huh?” You ask, his torso littered with bruises, old and new. Blues and purples mixed with yellows and oranges, creating an almost beautiful patchwork of colours. Almost being the key word, the sight of Frank injured made your heart catch in your chest, it was the worst feeling.

He doesn’t reply for a few seconds, you assume he wasn’t going to reply. Sometimes he talked about what he did, sometimes he didn’t, you learnt a long time ago to not press him on it.

“They were bad. Not just some thieves or shit, really fuckin’ bad people,” he finally mumbles, almost too quietly for you to hear.

You don’t say anything in response, only nodding your head as your hands travel across his skin, looking for anything you could treat. The bruises mostly healed on their own, it was the cuts and other wounds you were looking for. Under the pads of your fingers you could feel old scars, a knife wound here, a gunshot injury there. There were a hundred stories and bad nights hidden in Frank’s skin.

After another check over, you decide you did everything you could.

“That’ll be 20 dollars please,” you joke, closing your first aid kit.

“I really should be paying you for looking after me,” he chuckles, closing his eyes and leaning back on the stool, resting his head on the wall behind him. “It’s rotten work,” he adds, almost as an afterthought.

“Not to me. Not if it’s you,” you say, not realising the words had slipped out.

Frank opens his eyes at this, but you were already busying yourself with the cleaning up. Your heart was thuddering in your chest, hoping that Frank wouldn’t say anything else. You didn’t want to lose him, you knew emotions made him turn and run the other way.

Thankfully, Frank says nothing, leaving your flat twenty minutes later and throwing a last minute thank you to you.

Frank doesn’t see you again for a week.

After your late night, last minute comment you made to him, he had been trying to make sense of everything.

Of course he’s in love with you, he’s known this for weeks. Months, even. But to hear you say what was almost an admission of requited love? He couldn’t handle it, he had to get somewhere, anywhere, to clear his head.

Which is exactly what lead him to your doorstep, again, at an ungodly hour.

Except this time, there’s no answer when he knocks.

No blinding smile from you, no joke that makes him laugh, nothing on the other side of his door. So of course, he starts to panic. With his background, panic is the only logical answer.

Using the key you gave him for emergency’s only, he lets himself in.

There’s no lights on, the blanket on the couch is neatly folded and your bed is made.

Trying not to think the worst, Frank paces your living room as he tries to figure out what to do next. He would be lying if he said he knew where you might be, at 2am, instead of in your bed, asleep. Cursing himself for inviting you into his world, associating himself with you, he collapses on your couch, head in his hands.

He’s not sure how long he spent on your couch, hopelessly calling your phone and running through every single enemy he had, planning exactly how he would make them suffer, slowly, before sleep and exhaustion overtook his body.

When you go to open your door the next morning, you’re shocked to find it already unlocked. You knew you locked it before you left yesterday, you remember locking it.

Hesitantly, you take a step inside your apartment and spot the last person you’d expect to see asleep on your couch. Frank’s phone was clutched in one hand, a gun in the other.

“Hey,” you whisper, gently shaking his shoulder. “Frank?”

His body snaps into place, his eyes bloodshot and gun drawn.

“Hey! Hey, it’s me, it’s just me!” You move back, hands up in defence.

In a second his gun and phone are dropped to the ground, his arms around you. He’s shaking, you realise, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.

“Frank? What’s wrong?” You ask, beyond confused.

“You can’t do that, you can’t just - vanish. And not let me know where you are,” he mumbles, still not pulling away.

This is when you pull back a bit, looking at him, still confused. His eyes were locked on yours, arms still around you. “I was staying at a friends last night, we went to that gig I mentioned the other month, my phone died and I forgot to plug it in when we got back, I’m sorry I worried you.”

Worried, he thinks, is an understatement. He already had plans on who to kill, who to torture, who he was going to make pay for whatever he feared had happened to you. He hadn’t felt that kind of panic, that fierce need to know where you were, in years. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get his heart to slow down, even though you were right here, breathing and okay, in front of him.

You were watching him intensely, the frown on his face and deep breaths he seemed to be taking.

“Frank?” You say softly, trying to ground him. “What is this really about?” You think you knew, but you wanted to hear him say it, needed to hear him say it.

He couldn’t say it, at least not in the way he wanted to. Instead, he pulls you back in for another hug, allowing himself to release the sob he was hiding in his chest.

You sit there, perched on Frank’s lap, his head against your chest as you press soft kisses to his forehead every now and again, waiting for him to collect himself. Eventually, he pulls his head away, looking at you with the most broken look you’ve ever seen on him.

“So that’s what this is about,” you hum, more to yourself than to him, catching the last tear as it falls down his cheek. “I’m just glad you weren’t injured last night, didn’t really want to come back to you passed out in my hallway,” you joke, earning a half hearted laugh from Frank.

“This is dangerous. You, being associated with me, there’s no going back. I can’t promise what’ll happen,” he sighs.

“Hey,” you grab his chin softly, making him look at you, “I trust you. That’s all that matters.”

Frank Castle, the Punisher, the most violent man you’ve ever met, smiles at that. Ear to ear, brighter than the stars outside, smiles.

“Gonna get you a fuckin’ portable charger,” he says, making you laugh loudly.

“Good thing I’m so good at looking after you,” you smirk, running a hand through his hair.

“Good thing,” Frank agrees, no joke in his voice, completely sincere.

He pulls you on top of him, once again finding the crook in your neck. Even though he knew you were safe, he just needed to hold you for a bit, to make sure this was all real. Part of him was afraid to ever let you go again, but for now he’d settle for the smell of your shampoo and the weight of your body on top of his.

[dr4kenlvr]

𝐏𝐄𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

draken x gn!reader - fluff/comfort (0.4k+)

request: okay im back, i loved that fic you recommended but if you dont mind can you do a chubby reader x draken fluffy drabble (can be anything really) i barely find any of them and when i do they imply their a different race from me :< also ty for your kind words they made me happy <3

a/n/cw: sure thing love this piece is just a whole lot of body praise huhuhuuh cw: i tried to add in elements of a chubby reader, however im not entirely comfortable of making the whole post revolve around a specific body type. hope you understand, and enjoy nonetheless <3 u are absolutely beautiful.

“and this, this is my favourite part of you,” draken gestures to the curve of your stomach, to the soft flesh that surrounds the body of the one he loves most. his lips peck every dot and dip of your skin, as you lie beneath him in the oddly quiet confides of the brothel.

the moon shines its light directly onto your face, presenting draken with the view of an angel—his angel.

draken draws gentle lines across the expanse of your arms, bare and uncovered by the sheer fabric of his tank top that didn’t reach past your shoulders. he pays special attention to areas that he found you looked at far too long in the mirror, pecking kisses to them and chuckling at the blush that exposes itself on your cheeks.

“ken..” you whine, eyes trained on the way your boyfriend worships your curves and edges. he was so delicate with his touches, so wary yet confident—he touched you like you were made of gold.

he hums against your stomach, having returned to his previous position. he swore to himself he could never get enough of the pillowy feel of your body beneath his’. “yes, sweetheart? tell me; what do you need.”

his palms run downwards, right hand rubbing soothing circles on your hip while his left hand hooks itself under the plush of your thigh. he grips it lightly, feeling in awe at the way your body responds to his touch.

you smile down at him, feeling the most grateful for his ministrations. a flood of love embraces your heart and it squeezes tight when draken smiles back at you.

you feel lethargic with love when your arms lift to reach down at him; prying him up above you to eye-level. he follows your lead, hooping his head under your arms before you lock them around his neck. “i want you to kiss me, ken.” you whisper to him, voice barely audible; but it was enough, enough for draken to nod once and comply.

he kisses you like he always does when the two of you are alone—passionately and lovingly. his large palm slides itself the side of your neck and holds your head, tilting it to angle his lips sharply on your’s. your hands interlock behind his head, before you pull him down to force him impossibly closer to you.

draken pulls away with a pant, and his lips swollen. you gasp, lungs heavy yet you’re begging for another.

the two of you lean closer, lips barely grazing each other’s, until he whispers against them: “i love you, and everything about you. beneath me, is an angel. yeah?”

you nod feverishly, “yeah. ‘love you, ken.”

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[iliveiloveiwrite]

Meeting the Family // Anthony Bridgerton

Request: Hello there, could I please request Anthony bridgerton and reader fic where hes introducing the reader to his family for the first time and shes really nervous but the family ends up loving her more than him? Thanks, I absolutely love your work!! Please dont overwork yourself darling❤ - @lespaceboi

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting! I had so much fun with this request, I love it so so much. I only hope you do too! Lowkey posting this early bc I’m watching the euros final tonight and I won’t have time. 

Warnings: she/her pronouns, female reader, light angst, some worries, lots of fluff, family fluff, Anthony being cute, dialogue heavy, declarations of love.

Word count: 3.6k

Her hands shake uncontrollably as the carriage clatters through London. Taking calming breaths, (Y/N) does her best to stop her shaking hands by gripping her shawl tightly. Her maid, Jayne, looks over at her in concern. “We can always turn back, my lady,” Jayne whispers, “I’m sure Viscount Bridgerton won’t mind postponing to another day.”

(Y/N) smiles warmly at her maid; grateful for the care in her voice. However, she shakes her head. “I’m afraid it can’t wait any longer, Jayne. Anthony’s sister and her husband have travelled all the way from Scotland.”

Jayne sits back against the carriage bench, nodding her head understandingly. “I’m sure it’s going to be fine,” She offers in comfort.

“I can only hope,” (Y/N) whispers, casting her gaze out of window and into the London streets.

She had met Anthony Bridgerton when shopping for ribbons. An unusual time and place to meet anyone, but Anthony had strolled into the shop and asked to see the best ribbons in the place as nothing would be better than the absolute best for his nieces. (Y/N) had giggled at the tone of his voice; unused to seeing such a powerful figure in such intimate settings. Her laughter had drawn his attention to which a conversation began. By the end of the Viscount’s visit to the ribbon shop, he had asked to see her again.

The visits continued in secrecy, or in as much secrecy as one could afford when holding a peerage. The relationship blossomed; what was once considered a friendship was turning romantic, and (Y/N) could not help her feelings for the Viscount. He had captured her, body and soul. She counted every blessing that Anthony felt the same.

The first glimpse of Bridgerton House steals her breath away. The red brick stands out amongst the paler buildings; Anthony’s wealth already obvious but further personified by the sheer scale of his home. The sweet scent of the violet hyacinths perfume (Y/N)’s carriage; their aroma bringing a small smile to her face as she remembers a masquerade party in Chiswick, a balcony and Anthony’s hands on her waist.

Her carriage rolls to a natural stop; (Y/N)’s heart in her throat as she tears her inquiring gaze from Bridgerton House to Jayne. Jayne smiles and squeezes her lady’s hand, a silent offer of support for the afternoon.

“They’re going to love you,” Jayne whispers, bolstering (Y/N) as best she could as the door to the carriage is opened by (Y/N)’s footman.

Now closer, Bridgerton House is much grander. The deep green iron gates pronounce the family’s wealth further. (Y/N) gulps as she takes step after step down the path to already open front door. Her steps falter slightly as she catches sight of Anthony waiting in the entrance; his hair the usual untameable mess that endears her so.

“You came,” Anthony breathes in greeting; his eyes wide with barely concealed surprise as he takes in the sight of her on his doorstep.

“I came,” (Y/N) answers just as breathlessly. Even the sight of him was enough to leave her gasping for breath; there were moments in their prolonged courtship that she couldn’t quite believe he had chosen her, that he wanted her. As Anthony stands there, his white shirt unbuttoned from the collar with his waistcoat undone, she realises that this is the most casual she had ever seen him. His outfit wasn’t proper, but she doesn’t want it to be. She wants to see him from every angle; she wants to know every Anthony there is. So far, she had found herself besotted with each and every one.

Both remain silent as Anthony offers his arm to her. (Y/N) uses the silence to quash the nerves rioting in her gut; she had never been this nervous, not when she was presented in front of the monarch for her season, and not when she danced with the Prince of Wales at his birthday celebrations two years ago. Now, however, her nerves were beginning to get the better of her.

Anthony pauses their journey. “Are you okay?” He asks, a note of concern in his voice.

“I’m nervous,” (Y/N) confesses bashfully, “What if they don’t like me? What if they hate me so much that you end things? I’m having so much fun with you, Anthony. I don’t want this to end.”

“Hey,” Anthony whispers, taking her face in his hands, urging her to look at him, “You’re going to be fine. They’re going to love you, I know it. I’ve spoken about you so much they feel they already know you.”

“You talk about me?” (Y/N) asks, her voice small.

Anthony presses a kiss to her forehead. “Constantly. I’m surprised they haven’t kicked me out with how much I talk about you.”

“You’re really very sweet.”

“Only because of you,” He flirts, pushing his luck by kissing her quickly.

(Y/N) laughs softly against his mouth. “You’re incorrigible.”

Anthony laughs gently, pulling away from her lips but keeping hold of her hands. “I’m as nervous as you,” He confesses, “But I have you by my side to help me get through just as you have me through this too. Any time you want to go, let me know and I’ll call your carriage back round.”

“Thank you,” She whispers before Anthony continues on down the hall, his hand squeezing hers tightly.

“Are you sure you still want to do this?” Anthony asks, double checking, voice wavering as they stand outside the door to the drawing room. “My family can be a bit much to meet all at once.”

“We’re nothing of the sort!” A masculine voice shouts from behind the door.

A surprised laugh leaves (Y/N) lips. She covers her mouth to bring back the mask of perfect decorum, not wanting to insult a member of Anthony’s family. “I’m ready when you are,” She whispers, smiling at the eldest Bridgerton.

“Sooner rather than later,” Anthony whispers before opening the door, giving her the first glimpse at his family.

The Bridgerton brood sit around the large drawing room. Sisters and brothers, husbands and wives – they all mix together as they wait for Anthony and his new beau. Each all fall silent as Anthony and (Y/N) enters the room; their first glimpse of her, their first conversation with her. Anthony had spoken about her constantly but refused to let any family meet her until they were both ready.

Now that moment had arrived.

“Mother,” Anthony introduces to the silent room, “This is Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” (Y/N) exclaims, smiling at the Bridgerton matriarch. “I’ve heard so much about you all,” She continues, casting her gaze around the room.

“It’s a pleasure for us too, dear (Y/N),” Violet announces, “Anthony has been nothing but a ball of nerves since he announced you would be joining us.”

(Y/N) nods at the matriarch, feeling herself become speechless as she takes in the sheer size of Anthony’s family. It isn’t hard to tell who the Bridgertons are among the group are; they each have the same eyes and smile. “It’s lovely to meet you all,” (Y/N) announces, repeating her earlier words, unable to keep the nerves from entering her voice this time.

“I’m Benedict,” The second eldest introduces, jumping up from his seat on the couch, holding his hand out for her to take.

“The artist!” (Y/N) gasps, “I’ve seen some of your work. You’re exceptionally talented.”

“Thank you,” Benedict blushes, excusing himself with a pat to Anthony’s shoulder, a silent sign that Benedict already approves.

“Help yourself to some tea,” A younger woman exclaims in the brief silence between conversations, “I’d get up to greet you, but it would take twice as long as the conversation itself.”

“Please don’t strain yourself,” (Y/N) offers graciously, “Congratulations on your pregnancy.”

“Thank you, dear. I’m Daphne, and this is my husband, Simon.” Daphne introduces, her hand landing on the thigh of a handsome man.

“It’s lovely to meet you both,” (Y/N) greets, making her way to an empty seat at a nearby table. There she pours two cups of tea, one for her and one for Anthony, knowing he would be dropping by in a minute or two. The tea steeps as (Y/N) helps herself to one of the many biscuits, taking a small bite of the buttery concoction before reaching for the milk and sugar. This is a routine she has practiced many times before, knowing exactly how long to stir her tea so it wouldn’t burn the tip of her tongue with every sip.

It’s takes less than two minutes for someone to join her at the table. (Y/N) offers the young woman a polite smile, “I’m (Y/N).”

“Eloise Bridgerton,” introduces the young woman.

“A pleasure to meet you,” (Y/N) repeats, feeling herself already grow tired of the words.

“Are you educated, (Y/N)?” Eloise enquires; her keen blue gaze dancing over the young woman.

(Y/N) finishes her sip of tea before nodding at Anthony’s younger sister. “I am,” She answers, “I studied under a very thorough governess, and I am fluent in French and Latin, but I’ve also been fortunate enough to sit in on some lectures at Oxford and Edinburgh.”

“How?” Eloise all but demands, ignoring the stern stare of her mother as she leans forward, elbows on the table. “You must teach me your ways.”

(Y/N) represses an amused smile at Eloise’s antics. “My favourite cousin, Sylvester, was a student at both. I often annoyed him into letting me attend in secret whenever I visited.”

“Did you attend any interesting lectures?”

(Y/N) nods, happy to further indulge the brunette. “Sylvester was a student of medicine, beginning his education at Oxford before continuing on to Edinburgh where he lives now. I’ve attended a few medical lectures, but I pressured him into letting me attend a philosophical debate surrounding Wollstonecraft���s Vindication of the Rights of Woman.” (Y/N) shakes her head, amused at the memory, “Sylvester didn’t find that one nearly as thrilling as his medical lectures.”

“Anthony!” Eloise calls, gathering the attention of all her brothers, “I’m keeping (Y/N) for myself. You’re going to have to find a new beau, I’m afraid.”

Anthony chuckles, leaving his brothers to their own conversation. “Pray,” He begins, “Just what are the two of you talking about.”

“(Y/N)’s education. Did you know she’s sat in lectures at both Oxford and Edinburgh? I daresay I might attend a few myself.”

Anthony’s hand lands on your shoulder; a warm squeeze has you turning to meet his stare. His smile is fond; his eyes are bright with happiness. “Are you inciting further rebellion in my little sister?”

“Of course not,” (Y/N) playfully scoffs, “Just letting her know that should she want to attend any lectures, I have a connection for her.”

A laugh leaves Anthony’s lips as he catches sight of Eloise’s excited wiggle in her chair. “I’m glad you’re getting along,” He murmurs to (Y/N) quietly, dropping an unexpected kiss to her hair before entering a debate with Eloise, explaining why she cannot go about interrupting lectures at prestigious universities.

Leaving the siblings to their bickering, (Y/N) stands from table, wanting to stretch her legs and discover more to the drawing room. By this point in the afternoon, the appeal of company has worn off. The large family now broken off into their own conversations; Francesca and Michael remain sat close together on the couch under the window, Lady Violet remains sat by her eldest daughter – the matriarch keeping a weather eye on her pregnant daughter.

(Y/N) smiles fondly at the scene before turning to one of the many fixed bookshelves in the room; leather bound volumes line the shelves. There wasn’t much for light reading, she thinks to herself as she reads the spines. Much about the War of the Roses and the subsequent Tudor reign, not much in the way of Miss Butterworth and the Mad Baron.

“You’re very pretty,” A young girl announces from behind (Y/N). She turns to find two girls, both no older than four or five, their hair matching pigtails, curled into ringlets.

(Y/N) kneels to their height, ignoring the pinching of her corset as she smiles at the young children. “Why thank you,” She states gratefully, “But you know what I would really like?”

“What?” The eldest of the two asks, leaning forward in anticipation.

“Gorgeous pigtails like yours,” (Y/N) smiles, gesturing to their hair.

Both girls break into wide smiles, already won over. “What are your names?” (Y/N) asks.

“I’m Amelia,” The eldest states proudly, “I’m five and a half.”

“I’m Belinda,” The second girl introduces, “I’m four.”

“Well it is lovely to meet you both,” (Y/N) compliments, “My name is (Y/N).”

“We know,” Belinda chimes. “Uncle Tony talks about you all the time.”

“He does, does he?” She murmurs amused; catching sight of the brunette doing his best not to intervene on the conversation taking place with his nieces.

Amelia nods. “All the time!” She cries happily. “He talks about your hair, your eyes, your smile.” She breaks off, leaning towards (Y/N) to whisper in her ear. “I think he’s in love with you.”

“Do you think?” (Y/N) questions, unable to keep the eager hope from her voice.

“I know,” Amelia nods sagely, “I heard Uncle Tony tell Mama and Papa.”

(Y/N) presses her lips together to keep the wide smile from growing across her face. She had known that Anthony felt very deeply for her though he had never uttered a word. With a quick glance in Anthony’s direction, she gestures for the two girls to come closer. “Can you keep a secret?”

Amelia and Belinda nod silently; too excited to hear what (Y/N) has to say. “It just so happens,” (Y/N) whispers to the two girls, “That I also love your Uncle Tony.”

“You do?” Belinda squeaks.

“I do,” (Y/N) nods seriously, “I love him very much.”

“Are you going to tell him?” Amelia asks; her blue eyes wide with burning curiosity.

“I think on some level he already knows, but I plan on telling him very soon.”

Both girls squeal in happiness, leaving (Y/N) behind as they run towards their parents. Daphne and Simon greet their children with open arms, wide eyed at their level of noise as they demand their voices to be heard over the hubbub of the rest of the family.

“I don’t suppose you’d enlighten me to this particular conversation,” A warm voice sounds from behind her. The way his arm slips around her waist, as if it were his home, tells (Y/N) that Anthony has found her once more.

“A secret for another day,” (Y/N) teases, turning to face the man that had captured her heart so wholly.

“Will you tell me later?” He asks, pushing out his bottom lip in a pout that has her giggling.

“Perhaps,” She whispers, leaning ever closer to the Bridgerton. “Only if you promise me something.”

“Anything,” He whispers seriously, “I’d give you the world if I could.”

“I know you would,” She murmurs, “But all I’m asking for is for you to not pester your nieces over what I told them.”

“How did you know?” Anthony asks, voice glum.

(Y/N) brings a gloved hand to his cheek, her thumb brushing his cheekbone. “Because I know you, my dear.”

Anthony leans into the touch, turning his face slightly to press a kiss to her wrist. “I like being your dear.”

“I like being yours too,” She replies earnestly. “Now, I’ve spoken to most of your siblings. Do me the honour of introducing me to Francesca, she came all the way from Scotland, it’s rude that I’ve neglected her.”

“Yes, my darling,” Anthony responds, taking her hand and leading her to the couch where Francesca sits with her husband, Michael.

The day continues in a similar fashion. Bridgerton House had never been quiet when the whole family was in attendance; raucous laughter and loving bickering filled its many corners with noise. The life and laughter of the family bringing the house to life.

As the grandfather clock ticks closer and closer to the evening, (Y/N) finds herself lamenting the fact that she must leave the Bridgerton family so soon.

“I must take my leave,” She announces to sad cries to Amelia and Belinda, already so attached.

“So soon?” Benedict asks, frowning as he wonders when he’ll get to continues his conversation with her. So few wanted to talk about art nowadays.

(Y/N) meets Anthony’s gaze, hating how sad he looks. “I’m having dinner with my parents and their friends. An occasion I simply cannot miss, I’m afraid.”

“Do we know them?” Violet asks in an attempt to delay the inevitable. She had grown fond of the young woman over the course of the afternoon, seeing how perfectly she fit amongst her family, how she brought out the best in her eldest son.

“The St. Clair’s?” (Y/N) enquires, drawing her shawl around her shoulders. “My father has worked with Lady Danbury’s family for a long time. Gareth and I are old friends.”

“Have a wonderful time,” Violet announces, “But please visit us soon.”

“I would love to,” (Y/N) smiles, crossing the room to be by Anthony’s side.

Offering her goodbyes to the large family, (Y/N) takes Anthony’s offered arm, hooking hers through his as they descend the grand marble staircase to the foyer. “Your family are lovely,” (Y/N) compliments as she takes care not to trip over her skirts on the stairs. “You all care for each so much, it’s clear the moment you enter the room.”

“My mother and siblings are the best people I know,” Anthony murmurs, walking beside (Y/N) at a steady pace in order to delay her departure by a minute.

“I can only hope they liked me,” She worries, her teeth biting into her bottom lip in a way that has Anthony restraining himself by gripping her arm tighter.

“You were wonderful,” Anthony murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss to her cheekbone before helping her into her carriage.

“Thank you for today,” (Y/N) calls, sticking her hand from the window to prolong the contact between Anthony and herself. She wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye; wasn’t quite ready to leave him.

“Thank you for coming,” Anthony answers, kissing her hand before tucking it back through the window of her carriage. If they didn’t say goodbye now, they wouldn’t say goodbye at all. If she didn’t leave, he would most likely offer marriage on the pavement than somewhere proper.

Nodding to her footman, Anthony watches her carriage leave. He stands on the doorstep to Bridgerton House until her carriage is no longer in sight. Only then does he let himself release the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Weariness washes over him as he turns to face his childhood home. Inside, in his mother’s drawing room, await his family. Each one ready to give their verdict on the woman he has had the good fortune to fall in love with.

Sighing, he kicks at the ground, knowing he cannot delay this any longer.

His mother and siblings are where he left them; his mother’s drawing room. They fall silent at the sight of him; each clearly unwilling to make the leap and be the first to broach the elephant in the room.

“What do you think of (Y/N)?” Anthony asks; voice loud in the ever so silent room. He meets the eyes of each of his siblings, not missing the way Daphne leans into Simon or the way Michael reaches for Francesca’s hand. They’ve all found their love matches; it was now Anthony’s turn.

Colin takes the fall for his family, standing to face his eldest brother and titled peer. He clears his throat, fidgeting on the spot before he eventually pauses all movement, breaking into a smile to declare, “We all loved her!”

“You do?” Anthony asks, falling onto a nearby couch in shock.

Violet smiles at her eldest son. “We do. (Y/N) is a sweetheart and looks to be just as taken with you as you are with her.”

Blush begins to paint Anthony’s cheeks. “I can only hope, dear mother.”

“It’s true,” Amelia chimes, her young face bright with joy. “She told Belinda and I.”

“You have found your love match, my darling boy,” Violet states warmly.

“It does help that (Y/N) is a trifle more tolerable than you, dear brother,” Benedict teases, laughter bright in his Bridgerton blue eyes.

“And so educated!” Eloise gasps, “We had an enlightening conversation about Wollstonecraft’s Vindication on the Rights of Women.”

“She was wonderful with Amelia and Belinda,” Daphne murmurs, her hand falling protectively over her pregnant stomach.

“Why do I get the feeling that you prefer (Y/N) to me?” Anthony murmurs, mischief bright in his eyes and evident in his voice.

“That’s exactly what we’re saying,” Gregory points out, “I only hope (Y/N) can keep up with your obsession with Pall Mall.”

“A worthy obsession,” Anthony argues, mind wandering to the games he could play with (Y/N).

“She’s wonderful,” Violet interrupts, a large smile on her face as she takes the final say.

Anthony smiles widely at his mother; constantly grateful for her love and care throughout his life. She had been lost after the death of his father, as had Anthony, but Anthony had never truly understood what it would feel like to lose someone you love as wholeheartedly as his mother loved his father.

Until now, that is. The mere thought of losing her sends a lance of pain through his chest, cutting short his breath and increasing his panic. Anthony shakes his head to rid himself of such thoughts and feelings.

Calm enough, he faces his family once more. “I plan on proposing to (Y/N),” He announces, showing his family the ring box that has been sitting heavily in his trouser pocket all day.

“Thank goodness,” Francesca murmurs, smiling indulgently at her big brother. “I cannot wait to call her sister.”

“Indeed,” Anthony murmurs, a loving smile on his face, “I cannot wait to call her my wife.”

******

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