#I’m finally starting to like drawing digitally again!

[greykolla-art]

I don’t KNOW what I want from their dynamic!

I just know it’s INTENSE!

(How are we feeling today, lads? 👀 I’m getting scared of the trailer personally!)

[royaltea000]

I swear I sat down to draw a ship without Gil in it

[zirconthebread]

Hellooo

I’m back again. I'm hoping to be much more active on here starting now. It might take me a month or so to actually get the hang of it but I’d LOVE to start making my own little projects on here. I have an Undertale comic series that's been chilling in my head for at least a year now that I REALLY wanna make a reality. I've been absorbing everything I can about about comic paneling, character development, story arcs, dialogue, etc and I feel like I'm finally ready to just go for it and see where it goes. I’ll explain more about it in future posts but basically, (if all goes well) it's going to be a three-part series the taking place before, during, and after Undertale. The first will focus on Chara and Asriel growing up together and explore their relationship & mindsets leading up to their inevitable demise, the second will be a reinterpretation of Frisk’s journey through the Underground but where Chara’s ghost is bound to them for some unknown reason, and then in the third and final chapter, Frisk has decided to live with Toriel (and Chara) on the surface, but things get ✨chaotic✨ when Chara convinces Flowey to live with them as well in an attempt to try and ‘fix things’ with him.

All in all, I have a lot of stuff simmering up in my head and now its just a matter of getting out of there and into the physical world. That and getting over my own perfectionism and overthinking every little detail of something to the point where I give up trying to draw it altogether :’)

Here, have some Kris Dreemurr art :]

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @mimimar

Hi! I’m Michelle (Mimimar), an illustrator born and raised in Venezuela, currently based in Italy. I enjoy making colorful illustrations that reflect the things I love: fairy tales, fantasy, tenderness and queer (especially sapphic) stories. Occasionally, I also make paper dolls, comics and animatics. I have a lot of interest in book illustration and I’m currently developing my own stories that I hope to share as an author-illustrator someday!

Check out our interview with Michelle below!

Did you originally have a background in art? If not, how did you start?

I always enjoyed drawing when I was a kid, but it only became a hobby that I did almost every day when I was around 11. At first I only used traditional mediums, but I decided to make a serious effort to learn how to draw digitally when I was 15, and once I got the hang of it I never stopped!

I didn’t go to art school so all of my learning was done through studying the tutorials and resources that other artists generously share on the internet and lots of practice / trial and error.

How do you want to evolve as a creator?

I want to do many things but what I want to do the most right now is work on books! I want to make art for other authors’ stories and also my own stories as an author-illustrator. I want to grow as a storyteller and create art and stories that will really resonate with people emotionally. I’m always striving to improve my skills as well.

I also really love dolls, so working on doll box art or as a doll designer is something I would love to do someday. I actually have been designing paper dolls on my Patreon for the past few months, it’s been a fun project that is still ongoing right now!

What is one habit you find yourself doing a lot as an artist?

Probably using a lot of purple! It’s my favorite color so I find myself using it a lot. If I can find a way to sneak a little bit of purple into an illustration or a character design then I will.

Congratulations on finishing your Ivy Comic! Did the outcome turn out like how you expected or were there some unexpected bumps along the way?

Thank you! It’s a project that I worked on very slowly in between other art because I wanted to really take my time with every spread and make each of them a fully detailed illustration. I thumbnailed the full comic before starting but I kept changing the sketch for the final spread until the very end! Overall I’m really proud of the end result. I sprinkled a lot of hidden details in every page that I hope some of the readers will notice. For example: the meanings of the flowers in each page represent what the characters are feeling in that moment, and the colors of their wardrobe become gradually lighter as the story progresses to represent their emotions, as well as the changing of seasons.

We’ve noticed that you have created some amazing cover art for TGCF. Is there another series you would like to do something similar with? 

That was another passion project that took some time to complete. Initially, I didn’t intend for them to be specifically covers, it was just a series of illustrations based on the 5 books/main arcs of TGCF. But since they were well-received and I had people telling me they wish they could use them as covers for their books, I decided to rework them into dust jackets for the english translation of TGCF!

I haven’t thought of any other specific series but I love doing cover art so maybe I’ll do something similar again in the future!

What’s your favorite part of your style? Why?

I’ve heard from other people that there’s a delicate quality to my art, this is something that I like a lot! I like pretty things, fairytales and vibrant colors. I think all of these things probably reflect in the art I make as well.

If there is one thing you want your audience to remember about your work, what would it be?

I hope that they remember how it made them feel. Feelings and colors are the two things I give priority to in my work. Most of the time I like depicting tenderness, softness and emotional intimacy. If that could reach the viewer and stay with them it would make me very happy. 

I make a lot of art with queer (mainly sapphic) themes because they’re the kind of stories I personally like and want to see more of, so whenever people tell me that my art has helped them in their journey to discover and accept themselves, or that they see themselves and their partner in my art, it is always extremely meaningful to me. When art that I made to give myself comfort can provide comfort for others, no matter how small, it reminds me once again that despite any hardships art is genuinely worth pursuing.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

So many artists! To name a few:  I love @sakizo’s amazing eye for fashion and detail,  @paneeps’ gorgeous style and striking colors,  the sweetness of @bevsi’s art,  @vickisigh’s pretty colors and concepts,  @idledee’s warm and heartfelt art,  @littlestpersimmon’s dreamy wonderful art,  and @loish has been an inspiration for as long as I can remember.

Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, Michelle! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @mimimar.

[wandasaura]

LINGER LIKE A TATTOO KISS

summary — as the summer approaches, so does a shift in your relationship with wanda

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, sensory overload, anxiety, mentions of child abuse (very brief and nondescript), dom/sub dynamics, patience testing, bratty!reader, punishment, teasing, mild humiliation, orgasm denial, spanking, praise, aftercare, entrance of the mommy kink, men/minors dni

authors note — the moment we’ve all been waiting for… or at least one of them ;), we finally got some wanda action, and a couple little domestic scenes because they’re the cutest wives

you are in love universe

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff ✧

The supermarket was beyond crowded for it being a Wednesday afternoon in early May. You supposed the air conditioned aisles were being used as an escape from the scalding temperatures of approaching summer that threatened to melt the inventory of every ice cream truck in the neighborhood, but to say you were overstimulated was putting it lightly. 

You trailed after Wanda and Natasha with a frown on your face, making your disinterest known to both of the lawyers who were in desperate need of more produce and salad kits. You’d never understand why Natasha favored the plastic bags of lettuce over the perfectly green heads that Wanda grew in the back garden, but she’d thrown at least six prepackaged variations into the cart when you stopped at the stand. You were trailing down the cereal aisle now, and your attitude was getting on both of their nerves.

Wanda had been flat out ignoring your temper tantrum since the moment it started, but Natasha was not as keen to be dismissive as her wife. She’d been throwing out warnings since you’d first come through the automatic doors, but they had all fallen on deaf ears as you stayed persistent in your pout. Your arms were folded over your chest, your eyes slitted into daggers if anyone even attempted to look in your direction. You’d been near perfectly behaved for weeks, spare a few harsh comments thrown in Wanda’s direction, but they’d both been willing to overlook your harshness because aside from those, you’d been an angel. Whatever streak of good behavior you’d been running off of however, had seen its end, and both lawyers in front of you were shocked by the attitude you simmered in. 

“If I have to ask you again to pick up your feet, I’m going to make you sit in the cart like a child.” Natasha’s voice was quiet, not willing to draw attention from the other shoppers in the aisle, but there was an unignorable warning in her tone. She’d asked you three times to stop dragging your feet across the floors, and each time you promptly dragged them harder. You were absolutely certain that smudges of black looped the grocery store floors and aided as a map to your current location, but you didn’t care. You’d been so good, so painfully good and pliant and willing to bend to even the slightest gust of wind, but not today. Not now. Not when it was too hot and too cold at the same time. Not when it was too loud and too crowded and you’d asked them both if you could just stay home. They hadn’t wanted that. They wanted to go together, told you that you were going together even after you protested, and you know it’s because they’d wanted to get you some of your favorite treats for the end of the semester coming up, but how could they blame you for being cranky when you’d warned them about not wanting to come along at all. You’d been here for what felt like hours, and if your phone wasn’t being held captive in Wanda’s pocket, you’re sure the digits on your lockscreen would support your accusation. 

“Can we leave?!” You ignored Natasha’s warning, wiggled away from her when she got too close, and pressed yourself up against the shelves of cereal boxes. You wouldn’t fare well to the close contact she wanted to initiate, but she didn’t seem to get that, because the second you thought you had found peace in your little corner, she was right back in front of you with a glare only the worst criminals faced. She was not your loving and sweet dominant right now, you’d pushed her too far, and she didn’t take kindly to embarrassment. You’re pretty sure that the man three carts behind you had been gawking at your temperament since you came in, and while Wanda had sent him a glare, he still hadn’t gotten the hint that your little attitude didn’t concern him. Natasha grabbed at your wrists, pulling them away from your chest with a grip too strong to fight. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you wiggled immediately, but she wasn’t letting go. “Nat, let go.” You pleaded with her, desperately tried to get her to understand you needed space right now, but she was seething and subsequently blinded by your panic. 

“Natalia.” Wanda called out for her wife, her careful eye watching your movements despite the seeming disinterest on her lips. Your eyes flickered over to Wanda, and while to Natasha it appeared that you were a deer in headlights anticipating a scolding, the Sokovian could see the wisps of actual panic in your stare. “Let go.” 

Natasha listened, if only because a crowd had started to form toward the opposite end of the aisle and she wanted to move on before she became the cause of a traffic jam. Her hand left yours, and though it had been making your skin burn, you missed it instantly. Tears brimmed your eyes, but you refused to let her see that, and so instead of pleading that you leave only to be overlooked again, you just dropped your chin to your chest and followed along after them both with a drag in your step. 

“This is your chance to tell me what’s wrong.” You practically jumped out of your skin when Wanda’s voice appeared closer than it had been all afternoon. If you had leaned any closer into her, your arm would have brushed her chest. You shuffled away from her, beyond the point of communication. You thought you’d made it pretty clear that you wanted to leave, anytime you acted out Natasha didn’t hesitate to drag you away, but she hadn’t this time. You knew that realistically it was because she needed supplies to make dinner, but after weeks of being good, you couldn’t deny that you had missed the feeling of her heavy hands on your skin in a way that was less than kind. You could ask for what you needed, but you would rather die a slow painful death then ask for what she called a ‘maintenance spanking’. “If you’re not going to communicate, then I don’t want the attitude. You are making a scene. Drop it, pick out some snacks, and try to be nice.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do.” You huffed, making the rash decision to shove her body away from yours with both of your outstretched palms. Wanda’s lips set into a firm line, her eyebrows raised in surprise at the action. You’ve been rude, snarky even, but you’ve never raised your hands to her, even if it was only to create some space between your bodies. You shuffled on your feet, immediately regretting the decision to force space rather than ask for it. You’d been riding her last nerve for days, your sarcastic comments just the slightest bit meaner than usual, but she had been willing to overlook them because she knew you were stressed with finals and outside of those one-off comments you’d been helpful and obedient. There was no way she’d ignore this, and you wanted to cry thinking about how at the end of the night it wouldn’t be Natasha’s hands on your body that you wanted so desperately, but hers. “I– sorry.” You apologized weakly, not even sure what it was that you were apologizing for. Was it because the look in her eyes was undeniably scary, or was it because you pushed her? You knew that it was a mixture of both, but you needed that look to go away before you could even form a coherent thought. 

“In the cart.” She demanded, not leaving you any room to argue. You violently shook your head, knowing that being confined to such a small space would only make the panic in your belly worse. There were too many noises and stimulus, too many conflicting temperatures, being confined between four metal bumpers would certainly set you off and you were only just barely keeping yourself together now. “If you want to act like a child you’ll get treated like one. Natasha has asked you four times to stop dragging your feet, and frankly, I can’t trust that you’ll keep your hands to yourself anymore. You either sit in the cart, or you and I will go out to the car and you won’t be getting any of the treats you want. Which one is it going to be?” 

“I want Nat.” You pleaded with her, suddenly aware of the fact that you didn’t even know where the other redhead had wandered off to, or when she’d started moving. She had been right in front of you, but now you couldn’t spot her and the thought of losing her in the supermarket spiked worry in your chest. “Where’s Nat?” You didn’t care about how frantic you appeared, didn’t care that you were ignoring Wanda’s question and definitely making things worse for yourself. You hated getting separated, you hated breaking off into pairs even if the three of you had set a meet up location if this were to happen. 

Wanda, though annoyed with your behavior, sighed softly and dropped the threatening glare she’d been pointing at you. “Nat went to get some grapes and strawberries. You finished them this morning, remember?” You could only nod, remembering that you had in fact finished their fruit after refusing to eat the eggs that Wanda made for breakfast. It was too hot outside for anything warm to eat. They weren’t giving you a choice in tagging along, and although you couldn’t control where they dragged you, well you could if you had called your safeword and asked for space, but that wasn’t really what you wanted. You still had control over what you ate even if the supermarket was non negotiable, and you knew that the cold fruit would sit better in your stomach when it inevitably came time to leave. 

“This is the last time I’m going to ask you what’s wrong, Y/N. If you refuse to answer, I will be the one you deal with when we get home. This behavior is unacceptable.” Wanda remained firm, but there was concern in her voice that made you wonder if you would avoid punishment if you came clean. Deciding that you’d rather face humiliation than her heavy hand on your ass, you relented. 

“There’s too many people.” You whispered, shamefully dropping your eyes to the floor, counting the specs of black and gold in the tiles beneath your feet. The design was ugly when isolated, but somehow it worked for the aesthetic of the store when you focused on the full picture. “It’s too loud. And tomorrow's my last final and I’m not sure how it’s going to go, and I have to sleep at my dorm tonight and I haven’t done that since Natty was away. And I just need space right now but I don’t want to be alone.” 

The Maximoff residence had practically become your residence since the night you showed up in tears. You’d spent all of your nights in the soft guest bed, and most of your mornings in the dining room eating a homemade breakfast for the last six weeks. It was embarrassing to admit that you had gotten used to being there with them, that now that you had it, you didn’t want to trade it in for your stiff dorm room with a roommate you hadn’t spoken a word to since the first week of classes, even if it would only be for a handful of hours to sleep. You hated sleeping alone, even if you had slept alone in their house almost every night, spare the occasions Natasha fucked you into that fuzzy headspace she adores and they had let you crash in bed with them. Sleeping in your dorm was different, and lonely. And yeah, you had survived three years of dorm living prior to meeting them, but things were different now. You are different now. 

Wanda’s face melted into softness at your admission, and suddenly you felt silly for keeping it to yourself for so long, but you’d unasked for self-criticism had convinced you that you were being needy and unreasonable and they wouldn’t understand where your head was at even if you tried to articulate. After almost a year with Natasha, you should’ve known that wasn’t true, shouldn’t have even entertained that thought, but after showing both her and Wanda that you could be good for longer than just a couple hours, you’d felt like raising any problems no matter their origin would only aggravate them. You didn’t want to lose what you had, even if it meant being uncomfortable in a grocery store. 

“It is pretty overstimulating in here, isn’t it?” Wanda coos, her green eyes understanding and sympathetic. It’s a violent switch from how she’d been talking to you, but you thrive beneath her gentle validation of your feelings and find yourself nodding along. “Natty and I try our best to accommodate you, but we don’t know everything that can be overwhelming for you. We need you to tell us, so these things don’t happen. Shoving me didn’t make it any less crowded, and ignoring Nat didn’t make it any less loud. I know you were trying your best, but how could we have handled that better?” You should hate the way she’s speaking to you; like a child made of glass, but somehow it makes you feel better. She doesn’t sound mad anymore, there's no unspoken threat of consequences or stripped privileges, she’s just trying to get on the same page as you, trying to get you to understand where your mistakes had been so you can fix them in the future. You hate that you want more of this, whatever it is. 

“Telling you.” You sighed, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly, trying to take away some of the blame that was becoming heavy guilt in your belly. “I didn’t think you’d listen.” 

“Have we ever not listened to you?” Wanda quirks an eyebrow, and you feel properly schooled beneath the expression. 

“I told you I didn’t want to come.” You tried to excuse yourself, but the lawyer was having none of your avoidance. You sighed, dropping your shoulders and focusing your attention on your cuticles, picking at the skin that had only recently begun to heal. “Nobody has ever taken me seriously before. My last girlfriend used to parade me around claiming exposure would ‘fix’ me. I didn’t think it would matter to you that I’m overstimulated.” 

Wanda didn’t know much of anything about your past relationships. Whenever you talked about them, which was admittedly almost never, it was only ever Natasha who was around to witness realization crash over you like high tide. Your past romantic partners and the estranged relationship with your family had completely destroyed you, however these two successful lawyers that you found yourself entangled with were slowly putting the pieces of your broken heart back together, even if they didn’t realize just how much they were helping you. 

“Do you want to leave?” Wanda didn’t dwell on your revelation, she didn’t pick it apart and hone in on all of the ways you knew that she could. She’s a lawyer, the very best one in the world, don’t tell Natasha you thought that; there were a million little things in your brief explanation that had set off alarm bells in her head, but she didn’t pry. You don’t know why you thought she would, but having the topic dropped before it was even picked up had soothed at least a fraction of your newfound worry. 

The question startled you, having expected that to be the last thing she suggested, but it felt good to know that she was willing to order takeout for dinner if it meant getting you out of this situation. You wanted to leave, you desperately wanted to run to the exit at the first implication that you were allowed, but they needed groceries, and you wanted the chocolate ice cream sandwiches Natasha had promised. “No.” You whispered, shaking your head just in case she hadn’t heard you over the toddler screaming bloody murder in the juice aisle. “I don’t know.” 

“Do you want to sit in the cart while Nat and I finish shopping? I’ll give you back your phone and you can listen to your music until we’re done. It’s not a punishment, stop looking at me like that.” Wanda teased, and you giggled softly at her scrunched up nose and creased eyes. It was definitely a better suited look than her angry glare, and you couldn’t stop your finger from reaching out to poke her. “Did you just boop my nose?” She laughed, all of your bratty behavior forgotten about, at least for now anyways. 

“It wanted to be booped. It told me.” You shrugged your shoulders, hyper aware of the fact that you’d voluntarily touched her and it hadn’t made your hand turn into flames. Your relationship was slowly on the mend, that much was undeniable,  but physical touch was still something you shied away from at no fault of her own, but rather your own insecurities that needed to be worked through. “Are you gonna tell Natty I pushed you?” 

“No.” Her honesty surprised you almost as much as her willingness to forgive your fatal misstep, but you nodded curtly, lips pressed into a thin line. 

“I didn’t mean to. You were just too close, and Natty didn’t listen when I asked her to let go and I panicked.” You mumbled out the reason for your behavior, aware that it sounded like an excuse but there was no ounce of judgment or disbelief in Wanda’s eyes. 

“I know.” She assured, and you deflated in relief. “You’re not going to do it again, if you do I will not be as forgiving, but I know you were feeling crowded, so I’m willing to let it go if you are.” 

You nodded eagerly, and Wanda smiled. “Can we go find Nat now?” 

-

As you expected, spending the night in your dorm was torturous. In the six weeks that you’d been away, you’d forgotten how your roommate snores and turns throughout the night, and her mattress was far noisier than yours had ever been. It hadn’t bothered you all that much at the start of the academic year, and maybe that had been because of your exhaustion with the adjustment and workload of seven classes instead of the typical four, or maybe you had just been able to get used to it, but now that you had discovered what true quiet sounds like when you sleep, there had not been a single ounce of rest achieved all night. 

Your alarm went off at fifteen minutes to six, and you cursed whoever was cruel enough to schedule an exam for seven in the morning on a Thursday in May, but you shuffled out of bed anyway and dressed quickly in the few articles of clothing that still lingered in your dorm. Most of them had been brought to the Maximoff residence, but what hadn’t made it over because it was significantly useless with the presence of warmer weather, had been dropped off in the storage unit paid for by your mother. The woman was a flaky figure in your life at best, definitely no parent, but you appreciate her dedication to your education. She paid for your tuition, she assured you had the best meal plan and access to books and study materials, and when the seasons changed and you were let out on break, she made sure there was a safe and trustworthy place to store your belongings. She’d never once said she was proud of you, but when she asked for a report of your grades and didn’t immediately berate you, you knew that she was at least satisfied. 

If you failed any of your finals, you knew there would be hell to pay. You already weren’t coming home for the summer like you usually did, and although your mother didn’t know the reason why, she was less than happy when you’d relayed the abrupt change in plans three weeks ago. She was a controlling narcissist, a woman that had brought you years of pain and suffering for her own pleasure, you knew what she was capable of the second she caught wind of academic failure, and you would not reward her the opportunity to berate you the way she did in high school when you received anything less than all A’s on your report card. It was stupid to allow a woman with no presence in your life to have so much control, but you needed to at least be perceived as a good daughter if she were going to keep paying your multi-thousand dollar bills. 

The weather today was just as hot as yesterday, but there was a rise of humidity in the air that you could feel without even stepping outside. The sky looked thick and unpleasant, miraculously blue and clear, but still gross. As much as you wanted to hide away in your room and avoid the four hour exam that awaited you, it wasn’t in the cards, and so begrudgingly you laced up your shoes and grabbed your favorite pen. It was a simple pen, nothing truly special about it, but since the day you’d stolen it from Natasha’s desk, it had been used for every paper exam. The gold lettering across the black body, the name of her and Wanda’s company, was beginning to scratch and chip from the conditions you carried it through. And for being something so beloved, anyone would have thought that you’d treat it with respect, but you released copious amounts of anger and frustration on the ballpoint pen. Your teeth dug into it when you didn’t know an answer, your nails scraped at the paint when the words you had stored away in your memory felt impossible to grasp, and there were countless times that the entire pen sat dismantled and in pieces on your desk when you just needed something else to focus on for a few seconds. During one exam, you’d taken it apart mid-way through. The spring had bounced from between your fingertips and ended up halfway across the room. Your professor was a real bitch, and hadn’t let you retrieve the piece until every single person had already left and finished. You passed the exam, but not by much, and you blamed your grade on the fact that you had to finish it with a purple gel pen that was less than special. You wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Leaving your room behind, you walked to the classroom that you’d be sitting the exam in. It wasn’t a building you were familiar with, and so you packed an extra ten minutes into your schedule to avoid being late. Flowers had started to bloom in the bushes, and the grass was so much greener then it had been in the dead of winter, but there was no comfort to be sought in this environment. Your university was fine, albeit a bit bland, but Westview had become your home. You thought Wanda’s flowers smelled sweeter then the ones planted here, and the grass in their yard was the brightest shade of green you’ve ever seen. You don’t know how they have the time to take such tender care with their plants, but it made sense for them. They were busy women, women with a fast paced life and career, but there were still mundane rituals that clung to their routine. Before the contract, it had been almost impossible to imagine CEO and world-class lawyer Natasha Maximoff taking out the trash, but now you know she does it every Wednesday. It was also impossible to imagine Wanda Maximoff on her knees and covered in mud, there was never even a wrinkle in her business attire when she returned from the office after sixteen hour days, but now you’re privy to the fact that she doesn’t shy away from getting dirty when she tends to the weeds in her garden. It’s the simple things that make their company so much better then what you’ve found at Sword University, but no matter how much you wish you could be in Westview with them, no amount of heel clicking could take you there. 

When you found the exam room, you noted that it was unpleasantly cold, and you cursed at your inability to have remembered to bring along a sweatshirt like Natasha had suggested. There was no consistency at school, some classrooms were blisteringly hot and you could work up a sweat in minutes just from sitting still, and some were so cold your fingers forgot how to function. It didn’t matter the season, or if you simply walked down the hallway, the temperature was never the same and it varied from room to room. You chose a desk near the windows. Not right next to them, knowing that it would get too hot if you were pressed right beside the uncovered sun, but close enough to still feel the lick of warmth as the golden beams of daylight nipped at your skin. It didn’t take much longer for your peers to start flooding in, and their presence brought another factor of warmth to the room, though it wasn’t much and some who hadn’t been lucky enough to find a seat near the windows shivered. You smiled at the familiar face of a student who had claimed the seat next to you. You didn’t have many friends, didn’t see the point in socializing when your focus needed to be academic, but you had grown fond of a few of the faces you saw every week. 

“This your last exam?” Monica Rambeau asked you, leaning in closer to your desk so that you wouldn’t have to shout over the other students in the room. You had seen her around since your very first class in freshman year, and you quickly became reliant on each other for notes if one of you happened to be sick and needed to miss a lecture you shared. Your major was complex, not entirely science related but not entirely separate either. You wanted to focus more on security and technology, but for some reason your school demanded that all computer science majors take chemistry and physics. Monica was good at both, you were not. She had saved your ass with her color coded notes too many times to ever ignore her small-talk. 

“Thankfully.” You laughed, tapping your pen against your desk anxiously. “I’m moving the rest of my shit out next week and then I’m spending the summer in Westview. What about you?” 

The brunette shook her head, and you winced in sympathy. As grueling as it had been to have most of your exams scheduled in the same week, save for the three classes that had requested papers and projects from you, it was nice to be done so soon into the exam period. You knew that some other unfortunate students would be stuck here for at least another week. “I have two more tomorrow, then I’m heading back to Louisiana. You ready for this?” 

“Not at all.” You laughed, though your jittery leg and fidgeting fingers easily gave away just how anxious you were. “Sitwell hasn’t made sense a day in his life, I doubt the exam will be any more coherent than his lectures.” 

Monica laughed loudly at your acquisition, but she nodded eagerly in agreement. “Tell me about it. I’ve been going over your study sheet for the last two weeks and I think I just barely understand the content from chapter one.” 

Your attention snapped to the door when it snapped open again, but unlike the last handful of times, it wasn’t a student that entered, it was your Professor Jasper Sitwell himself, and in his hands were thick bundles of paper that would determine the next year of your life. If you failed this exam, you could kiss your paid for tuition goodbye. You appreciated Monica’s attention to body language, because she seemed to get the hint that you were in no mood to continue your conversation now that Sitwell had arrived. She still offered you a smile though, a whispered ‘good luck’, before she turned straight in her desk and placed three colored pens down firmly. Leave it to Monica to remain dedicated to her color coding even at the end of the semester. 

The time had flown by after that. You’d groaned when you saw that the estimated time of this exam would be four hours, but now you felt like that wasn’t nearly enough. The first six pages of questions had come easily to you, though it was still challenging and you doubted that most of your answers were entirely correct, but the last page had stumped you rather quickly and entirely. You jumped between questions, filling in pieces of information when they came to mind, but nothing could jog your memory when you were confronted with the very last question of the exam. Your brows furrowed, a sheen of perspiration clung to your skin. Was it a trick question? No, a professor wouldn’t purposefully stump you when so much was on the line. Despite your confidence in Sitwell, you’re absolutely certain that you’ve never gone over any materials that even slightly relate to the last topic. You’ve read the textbook forward and backwards, you practically dreamed about this course material, but you had never seen these words present in any of the lectures. 

Your hand shot up from the desk before you could stop yourself, but by time you realized you were seeking attention from Sitwell, he had called you up to the front of the room. A glance at the clock on the wall beside the door told you there was just under twenty minutes left. By this point in an exam, most students would have been gone, but every single one of them still remained, and although you weren’t intentionally looking at anyone’s paper, the few that you had seen had all been open on the last page. You weren’t the only one confused.

“How can I help you, Ms. Y/L/N?” Sitwell kept his voice quiet, and like always, detached. You wondered how a man who seemed to hate every person even remotely younger than himself had found a profession in teaching, but you didn’t let his attitude deter you from asking anyway. This question could very easily make you seem like an idiot, but you were confident in yourself, and well, Jasper Sitwell seemed exactly the type to make a mistake like this. 

Matching his quiet tone, assuring that only the first row of students could hear you, you laid your exam in front of him and pointed out the question. “This isn’t related to your course, sir. It’s not in the textbook, and we’ve never gone over it in a lecture.” 

You waited for the moment he berated you for questioning his exam but it never came. When you grew the balls to look up at him, you found a smirk of satisfaction on his lips. “You’re correct. That question has no value in this course. It’s been on my exam for the last ten years and nobody has ever questioned me. Congratulations, Ms. Y/L/N, it seems somebody has finally read the textbook.” 

A look of sheer bewilderment crossed your face, but Sitwell gave you no chance to speak again before he promptly took the exam from your hands and kept it at his side. Anxiety shot through your stomach when you realized that he wasn’t going to give it back to you. There was still thirteen minutes left on the clock, and you’d intended to spend every last second meticulously checking your work until he had to pry it from your fingertips when time ran out. So much could be wrong about your answers, you could’ve missed a question or twenty, and now you’d have no way of knowing because he wouldn’t give it back. 

“Be on your way.” He nodded toward the door when you didn’t budge. There was no use arguing with him, he never listened anyways, but you couldn’t just walk away without checking over your paper one last time. 

“Sir, I still have time to go over my answers.” You weakly protested, a single palm extended in the direction of your exam, hoping that for once he was willing to budge. No luck, his jaw clenched and his eyes hardened, and you took that as a sign to get the hell out of dodge before he did something drastic like rip your exam in half. You would never be taking another class from him again, if you even got the chance to finish your degree. 

With a sigh of defeat, you headed back to your desk, collected your lucky pen, and waved subtly in Monica’s direction before you headed to the door and broke away from anything and everything even remotely related to academics for the next three months. 

-

Ever since childhood, you have adored the sight of the sun in the spring and summer months. Not in the middle of the day when it was blinding and heavy, but toward the approach of night when everything it’s surface could touch was brightened by ripples of violet and peach presence. Tonight had been the first expanse of light across the shoretown the Maximoff’s lived in, and though they’d both been home all day with a rare break from office obligations, their cars were warm to the touch when you passed by them in the driveway. 

Despite the warm air and lingerance of sunshine off in the horizon, your disposition was reflective of the colder times when attitudes clashed and people let themselves fall inward. You’d been blind to the change in mood as a child. There was no bad time of year when you were seven and strangers stopped to compliment your velcro shoes as they passed, but now that adulthood had claimed what remained of your innocence, you’d been shown the true nature of winter and fall. The first time you realized that strangers were nicer in the summer, you’d been fifteen. Admittedly, that was a bit old to only just be realizing that life was cruel and people were snobs, but you’d always been an optimist; you still are an optimist. You vowed to never become someone so mean after that day, but that was yet another promise you had failed to keep for yourself. 

Your face is set in a permanent scowl, which seems to be the new normal as Wanda and Natasha move about around you. Your arms are crossed in front of your chest, your eyes staring straight ahead of you at the movie that’s playing in the background. They’re attempting to get the house straightened up, something about hosting a barbeque over the weekend and not wanting to leave the mess to deal with at a later date. Had you been in a better mood, you would’ve offered to help, would’ve laughed and joked along with them, but the unknown of your last exam has firmly pushed you over the edge and now every minor inconvenience is working on your last available nerve. 

Wanda laughs at something Natasha whispers in her ear, the two of them somehow always finding a reason to gravitate toward one another despite the many different tasks that still needed to be accomplished. You didn’t think the house was as messy as Wanda claimed, but you hadn’t offered her that briefest sentence of reassurance. When you walked in, defeat heavy on your shoulders as you over analyzed the exchange between yourself and Professor Sitwell, you’d wanted nothing more than to fall into Natasha’s lap and let her distract you however she saw fit. She had, for a couple minutes at least, but then she’d pushed you out of her embrace and had started helping Wanda around the house. The Sokovian was practically on a mission to regain some order, dusting bookshelves and tables, collecting stray blankets that had made their way into the living room and across random furniture pieces. It hadn’t looked messy, just lived in, but that wasn’t good enough. 

“Can you lift your feet for a second?” The taller of the pair looked at you expectantly, the neck of their expensive vacuum clutched between her ringed fingers. She hadn’t been the slightest bit deterred by your poor attitude when you came barreling into the house and hadn’t even offered her so much as a hello before you plopped down in Natasha’s lap and dug your face into her neck, and she had even let you put your feet up on her coffee table when eventually the Russian left your side start cleaning. She had been very patient with you, knowing how nervous you were about the exam and your results, but much like yours, her patience wasn’t unlimited. “I asked you a question, I expect an answer.” 

You huffed, readjusting yourself on the couch, though you still didn’t move your legs out of her way. Natasha watched the scene unfold with an uninterpretable expression in her eyes. She was aware of how you’d been testing Wanda more and more as the weeks went by, and she had warned you that it was only a matter of time before the woman snapped and dealt with your attitude by her own measures. Three weeks ago, that would’ve been enough to scare you into submission, but you had shrugged off her warning to stop pushing boundaries, entirely uninterested in the conversation she was trying to have. 

Wanda sighed and let go of the vacuum, resting it against the couch to be grabbed again later. You’d expected her to move onto a different task, maybe even march her way upstairs until you changed your attitude, but when her hands grabbed at your ankles and harshly removed them from the coffee table, you gasped in shock and flinched away from her touch, a glare settled in her direction. 

“Stop!” You whined, kicking your foot out in her direction as a weak attempt at retaliation, but you made no attempt to put them back on the coffee table. Instead, you extended them outward, taking up almost the entire length of the couch. Not that it mattered, neither one of them were planning on sitting down with you anytime soon. Wanda quirked an eyebrow down at you, an expression that you were getting seriously tired of, before she reached for the remote and turned off the television. “I was watching that!” You cried out in annoyance, reaching for the remote that was held away from your hands. 

“Good girls get to watch movies.”  She simply stated and handed the remote over to Natasha, who seemed to know exactly where it needed to go. The remote was promptly placed on one of the highest shelves in the room, and the fact that it had been done on purpose because she knew you wouldn’t be able to reach that high without a stool only angered you further. 

“So what? You’re gonna ground me? I’m not a child.” You snapped at her, your voice tinged with what could only be described as pure venom. The snarky comments you’d been making for days seemed like child's play now, at least then you’d had the decency to show her some semblance of respect, but now, there wasn’t an ounce of anything kind in your tone. 

“If you’re going to act like one, I’m going to treat you like one. I have been more than patient with you, even though you’re being nothing short of a brat. My willingness to ignore your little attitude will not last much longer, so I suggest you get over yourself before I have you over my lap.” Her words should’ve scared you, they should’ve worked as a last ditch effort to get you to behave, but if anything, it only spurred you on further. You were beyond the point of simply wanting some kind of punishment. Unlike in recent days when it had been a tickle at the back of your mind, now you desperately needed it. The end of the semester always felt like the biggest relief until it actually came, and you were left with no productive purpose to fulfill. You needed a push in the right direction, and now that you had been introduced to this dynamic, where Natasha was more than willing to make decisions for you and take care of you, you wanted to fall right into that state of comfort and control. Your mind wouldn’t let you stop thinking though, and no matter how hard you pleaded with yourself to just let her take the reins, control would not be so easily relinquished. It had been weeks since your last spanking. Days since the last time she had fucked you hard enough to cause you to slip into subspace. For months you’d been shown and taught about the beauty of this dynamic, and it was just suddenly beginning to fall away. You knew that you didn’t need to be naughty to receive a spanking, knew that if you asked she’d be more than happy to provide it, but you didn’t want to need her just to feel content. It was like a double-edged sword had rammed its way into your brain and every time you turned your head you fought between completely surrendering control and always maintaining it. 

“If I’m a brat then you’re a bitch.” You met Wanda’s stare, there was no backing down now. You were so close to what you wanted, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to care that it wasn’t Natasha you were seeking it from. Ever since that night curled up in her arms when the world felt like it was ending, something was undeniably different. You didn’t want to crave her but you did, and the longer she refused to play into your games, the more you wanted her. She was scary when she was mad, terrifying when she was livid, but somehow you had crossed both of those thresholds in only one sentence. There was something dark in her eyes that you’d never seen before, and it made your stomach twist into knots knowing that you were the sole reason she had lost her happy spark. She radiated dominance, expelled the radiant energy of someone who knew they had control, even if for the briefest second, you had been foolish enough to think you were the one with it. It wasn’t anger or frustration in her eyes, although they were both present, but rather dominance. You’d seen her be dominant, you’d been scolded by her many times, but it had always been concealed. She had always remained respectful of your boundaries and control to Natasha only, but you had pushed her too far. Things had changed too much. Neither of you were the women you had been at the start of this situation, and it was only a matter of time before the carpet rolled beneath your feet and you had to face the music. 

“Get upstairs.” She demanded of you, and for the first time since showing up, you didn’t have the words to fight. You scrambled off the couch and practically flew toward the stairs, only to stop halfway up when you realized you didn’t know where she wanted you to go. 

“Our bedroom, honey.” Natasha called after you, having watched the entire thing unfold. Now that you realized what position you had walked yourself into, there was anxiety flooding your desperate gaze as you pleaded with her to save you. Natasha wouldn’t save you this time though. She had warned you, told you that you wouldn’t like the trap you were walking yourself into, but you hadn’t listened. “I’ll be up to talk with you in a second, it’s okay.” 

“Y/N, if you are not in that room in the next twenty seconds, I will not be so kind as to give you the choice about what I spank your ass with.” Wanda’s voice was level, it didn’t waver like you knew yours would if you even dared to try and speak. You nodded frantically, scrambling to get up the stairs and into their bedroom before the countdown in your head got down to zero. 

You didn’t know what to do once you were inside, didn’t know if you should close the door or leave it open, didn’t know if you should sit on the bed or continue to stand beside it. You’d never been alone in their bedroom, it felt like an odd invasion of privacy now that you were. Your mind reeled with endless possibilities, though none of them pleasant. Wanda was going to spank you, she had practically promised that, but what else would she do? Would she make you terminate your contract with Natasha because you’d called her a bitch? Would she slap you around like your father had done when you’d ever dared to disrespect him so aggressively? Tears pricked your eyes at all of your unanswered questions, and you noted that this feeling in your belly was distinctly different then the times when Natasha pulled you over her lap. You’d gotten a handful of punishments before, of course you have because even though you like being good for her, it’s still fun to act out, but those punishments had always been light with the unspoken promise of sexual relief afterward. This was the first time you’d ever actually been punished outside of sexual interactions. This was the first time you’d ever pissed Wanda off enough to be the one who dealt the cards. So much was changing and you couldn’t keep up, but really there was nothing for you to keep up with. You didn’t know what would happen next, you had never been in this situation before. 

The floorboards creaked beneath footsteps, and you noted that just beyond the window not covered by blinds, the sunshine had finally settled. Nothing was left to see beside darkened skies and the roofs of all of the other houses on the block, though even then the sight was void of any actual interest. The Maximoff residence was the largest on the block, and it towered over the houses that sat on both sides of it. You’d always thought that CEO’s lived in big lavish mansions, but Wanda and Natasha had chosen a perfectly normal town to settle down in. They had expensive cars, sure, but that wasn’t even a fraction of the money they had. They were total anomalies, and that fact was only making you grow more uneasy. 

“Detka.” Natasha sighed, and you were thankful it was only her that had entered. Had Wanda been with her, you would’ve spiral face down into a panic attack that couldn’t be stopped. “I warned you, did I not?” 

You sighed, knowing that there was no time for her to give you all the reassurances you needed. Wanda was being kind enough to let Natasha check in on you, but you doubted she had the patience to sit downstairs for hours as you pleaded with your dominant to give you answers even she didn’t have. “J-Just tell me what’s gonna happen. I need to know what’s going to happen.” 

“She’s going to spank you, and then she’s going to hold you, and reassure you that you’re okay. No different from what I do. Are you okay with her spanking you? I know we’ve talked about it, but this isn’t the funishment you thought you’d be getting when we agreed to those conditions, huh?” Natasha collected you into her arms, being surprisingly gentle with you despite the fact that you had just called her wife a bitch. You shook your head against her chest, fisting her loose fitting t-shirt in your heads, fearing that she would pull away far too early for your liking. 

“I wanted you to spank me.” You admitted sheepishly into her touch, sighing softly when her fingers tangled into your hair and gently worked out the knots that lingered near the ends. “I’ve been good and you’ve been… soft. And I just can’t get my brain to be quiet, and I wanted you to spank me so I kept trying to push your buttons and you just kept forgiving me.” 

“Daddy’s been pretty lenient with you, hasn’t she?” Natasha cooed, not placing blame on your shoulders even though you knew she very easily could have. You nodded in response to her question, feeling better now that she was aware of the root cause of your attitude, even if that didn’t save you from Wanda’s wrath. “You’ve been breaking a lot of rules, rules that Wanda’s aware of.” 

“She’s gonna give me ten for every one, isn’t she?” You winced, knowing that this would not be a pleasant experience and your ass was sure to hurt every time you sat down for at least the next week. 

“She is, and it’s going to hurt. It’s supposed to hurt, but she’s not going to push you farther than you can handle. What do you call if you need a break?” Natasha asked sweetly, pulling your face away from her chest and holding your cheeks in her hands, forcing you to look up into her eyes and see that there's no lingering resentment or anger. 

“Yellow.” You answered, the word engraved in your brain despite having never needed to call it. “Red if I need it to stop completely. But… we’re not playing.” 

“Just because she’s not going to touch you after doesn’t mean that it’s okay for her to break you, detka. Is that what you thought was going to happen?” Natasha frowns, her lips turning deeper downward when you nodded as an answer. 

“My dad… punished me with violence. He didn’t stop until he wanted to. You’ve only ever punished me sexually, not because I purposely broke the outside rules.” You whispered, another hint at your traumatic past hanging in the air. “I called her a bitch. I tried to kick her. I pushed her in the store yesterday.” You admitted, though when there was no reaction, you guessed that Wanda had already told her. 

“Because you needed space. She is not going to punish you for that. She’s going to punish you because you were being disrespectful, and because you need it, huh? You need help getting that brain to shut off. You did so many big things this week, I bet it’s not that easy to just come back to this dynamic and allow us to take control when you’ve been the one in charge all week.” Natasha whispered knowingly, a glint in her eyes that reassured you of her understanding. “Finals are stressful. When Wanda and I were in college, we used to go at each other until we were red in the face and then we’d move on like nothing happened. We get it, milaya. We don’t expect you to be good at this yet, or to know how to ask for what you need. You can stop thinking the world is going to end because you made a mistake.” 

“I meant to call her a bitch, but I didn’t actually mean it.” You admitted softly and Natasha chuckled, pulling you in closer and laying a kiss to the tip of your nose. 

“We both know what you meant, malyshka. She’s not downstairs brewing in anger, even though I’m sure that’s what you’re thinking. This dynamic is not about fear and power. I should’ve explained that better. You have all the power here, honey, but just like you can call red, so can she. It’s a balance, a team effort. You got it?” 

“I got it.” You sighed, leaning into her touch, wishing you could just surrender to this moment for the rest of your life, but there was no way that was happening. As daunting as it was, you needed Wanda to punish you. You want to let go of the guilt, you want to relinquish control and just listen to what they ask of you. “I’m sorry.” 

“I’m not the one you need to be apologizing to, but it’s okay. You did nothing wrong, even if I don’t exactly like you calling my wife a bitch.” She teased, her fingers leaving your cheeks to trail down toward your ribs where she knows your ticklish. You shrieked in response, wiggling away from her fingers just in time for Wanda to knock on the open bedroom door and announce her presence. 

She was significantly calmer then she had been downstairs, and that faint lick of anger in her eyes had settled to dust, but she still captivated you and sought for your submission. Her eyes were green, you forced yourself to remember that fact. They weren’t overcome with blackness like all the other times you’ve awaited punishment, but thoughts of your childhood didn’t even come to mind as you let yourself be present in this moment. This was not your childhood. The second you needed this to stop, or you needed her to slow down, you had to say one simple word and it would. As much as this act was about you giving over control, you knew that the reality was you would never be fully powerless.

You didn’t know what to say, if you should even say anything at all, so you merely waved your hand in Wanda’s direction, not wanting to completely ignore her. She smiled softly at you, not softening her body language, but at least her face mirrored your greeting. 

“Hi, malen’kaya.” She laughed softly, and you were relieved to find that Natasha had been being honest about Wanda not brewing in her anger, though you hadn’t really doubted her, just needed that validation for yourself. “You talk to Natty?” 

“Mmhm.” You nodded your head, unaware of how your hand still tangled in the fabric of Natasha’s t-shirt gripped onto her harshly. It was an unconscious thing, but was quickly soothed by a kiss being placed into your hairline. 

“I’m gonna be right here, ангел. If I think you need to call red and you’re not doing it yourself, I’m going to call it. Nothing bad is going to happen.” She promised, and you felt better at the proposition that she’d be looking out for you as well. 

“That was quite the show you put on downstairs.” Wanda mused, her face back to that blank slate of dominance that made your palms clammy. You stepped closer to Natasha, just barely managing to nod your head at her admission. “Come with me.” 

“Go ahead, I’ll still be here.” Natasha sent you toward Wanda with a gentle shove, and when you looked back at her over your shoulder, she merely smiled in reassurance. 

Wanda led you over to the walk-in closet You’d never been inside, but you’d seen Natasha disappear into it after a scene, usually when she was scrounging around to find a specific cooling lotion for your ass. Wanda didn’t make any efforts to invade your space, giving you time to accept your fate on your own accord. The space was large, and there were no shortage of dresses and suits hung up on the taller racks. You smiled softly at a purple suit in the corner, wondering which of the two women it belonged to. 

“That’s Natasha’s.” Wanda hummed, seeming to follow your eye toward the suit. “That’s not why we're in here though.” 

You nodded, pulling your eye away from the suit in favor of following whatever box Wanda was pointing out. It was large and black, one of the only objects in the closet that looked like it didn’t really belong. She walked over to it, getting down on her knees and motioning for you to do the same. 

“I can either spank you with my hand, or with a paddle.” You swallowed thickly at your options, but nodded your head and looked down at the case that Wanda had pulled open. Your eyes practically bulged out of your head at the sight of so many sex toys, but Wanda merely laughed at your flushed cheeks. “Natasha isn’t much a fan of being paddled. It stings and will burn for longer than a hand spanking does, but she has received plenty of both.” There’s a tinge of fond exasperation in Wanda’s words that make you think Natasha is better at asking for what she needs than you are, and that most of the spankings Wanda’s internally recounting aren’t all derived from punishment. You remember the conversation you had weeks ago, where Wanda had confirmed that Natasha was the submissive in their relationship. 

“I don’t want that.” You whispered, shaking your head adamantly. “Never.” 

“Okay. That’s perfectly okay. Not everyone likes instruments being used for a spanking. This is the lotion I’m going to put on you afterward. It’s the same one Natasha uses, but I want you to know what to expect.” Wanda gives you the bottle, and you don’t even bother to look down at it, entirely focused on her face. There’s something different about her like this, so easily dominant and captivating, you want to commit this new energy to memory. “You’re going to get fifty spanks. If you need to slow down, or if you need to stop, I expect that you call your safewords. If I need to stop, I’m going to call mine. Part of your punishment is that you will not be receiving an orgasm afterward. You're lucky I haven’t taken them away for the next week.” 

You gulped, suddenly remembering that this was a punishment, although you didn’t know how you could have forgotten that fact. Wanda smirked in amusement at your flushed features, and tenderly she reached up to smoothing stray strands of hair away from your face. “Can I kiss you?” She asked quietly, and although it was Wanda not Natasha, you nodded eagerly. You didn’t hate her, you didn’t dislike her, you wanted her just as badly as you wanted Natasha. You didn’t know how you’d been so blind to that fact for so long. “Words, detka.” 

“Yes.” You breathed out, already leaning into her touch when she set her hands on your cheeks and pulled your face into hers. Her lips were soft beneath yours, softer than Natasha’s, and she tasted like the fakest cherries. Her tongue swiped across your bottom lip, asking for entrance rather than demanding it. You didn’t hesitate to let her in, moaning softly into her mouth when her hot and heavy tongue licked against yours and officially claimed you the way you had seen it do to Natasha on a handful of occasions. 

You don’t know how many minutes had passed as you sat on the floor of the walk-in closet, but when Wanda finally pulled away from you, her chest rising and falling faster than it had been before, your cheeks were flush for more than one reason. 

“You can’t kiss me like that after you tell me I’m not allowed to cum tonight.” You whined softly, squirming on the floor as your arousal made its presence known between your legs. Wanda laughed in amusement, a dangerous smirk playing on her lips. 

“I guess little girls need to learn how to behave if they want something from Mommy then.” The softest inch of her accent had drifted into the words, and if that wasn’t enough to send a rush of pleasure straight to your core, the added bonus of her title was. You whined desperately, your thighs rubbing together as you sought out even a second of relief. Flashes of Natasha teasing you on the phone came to mind, and the lust in your eyes only intensified. “Enough.” Wanda scolded, “I want you naked and bent over the bed in the next three minutes.” 

You nodded obediently, having done enough arguing for the night. You got to your feet with the same grace as bambi, practically bolting out of the closet and into the bedroom. You giggled softly when you realized that your first kiss with the lawyer who was very proudly a lesbian had been in a closet of all places. 

“There’s no way whatever happened in that closet deserves to be laughed about.” Natasha quirked an eyebrow in your direction, though it was significantly less scary then when Wanda did it. She watched you strip out of your clothes hurriedly, not sparing the few minutes you had been given to fold them nicely in a pile. 

“Your wife is a lesbian.” You deadpanned, though you knew Natasha was very much aware of that fact if the felt pride flag in what you assumed was Wanda’s side of the closet had ever caught her attention. 

“Yes, thank you for stating the obvious.” 

“And she just kissed me in the closet.” You giggled, and Natasha couldn’t say that she wasn’t equally as amused as you were, but she had the decency to control her laughter in front of Wanda, who you hadn’t even realized was standing right behind you. 

“If you don’t want me to add another ten onto your fifty, you’ll bend your ass over my bed and stop making me wait.” Your blood went cold and your spine straightened as you felt the softest trace of Wanda’s warm breath against the shell of your ear. The warning didn’t need to be whispered twice, because you were already scrambling to get into position, a lot less nervous then you had been before. “I want you to count them all. If you miss one, I add two more.” 

“Okay.” You whispered, already fisting the comforter in your hands, waiting for the first strike to land against your uncovered ass. You didn’t even have it in your to be embarrassed about Wanda seeing you so exposed, just wanting to get this situation over with so that you could fall face first into Natasha’s chest. 

“Is that how we address our dominants now?” Wanda practically growled, standing so closer to you that you could feel the heat of her body radiating onto yours. 

“Yes, Mommy.” You fixed your mistake, your eyes pinched closed as you pushed your hips backward until they met her thighs, unconsciously seeking relief for your clit that was pulsing between your legs. You shrieked in surprise when she abruptly stepped away and laid the first hit onto your left cheek in only a matter of seconds. It didn’t take a genius to know that Wanda was well practiced in this domain. The spank was hard, significantly harder then Natasha had ever started out with, and you knew you were in for it with the promise of forty-nine more to come. “One, Mommy.” 

Your grip on the comforter got tighter and tighter with each spank that came next until your knuckles were white and your chin trembled from the onslaught of pain. At the thirteenth spank, you moaned in pleasure, and your hips bucked backward  desperately searching for pressure between your thighs that never came and wouldn’t come. Wanda’s laughter was anything but genuine behind you, and you didn’t even want to imagine what you must look like to her; bent over the bed she shares with her wife, your ass pink from the assault of her palm, and arousal dampening the insides of your thighs. 

“So much for not having a pain kink.” She mused, though she wasn’t really talking to you. Natasha was sitting at the head of the bed with a smug gleam in her eyes, and you knew the sight of you like this was turning her on, if the dilation in her pupils was any indication of that fact. “Little slut is dripping.” You gasped when soft fingers ran over your ass, dipping lower and lower until they found your empty entrance that begged for anything to fill it, be it a dildo or the fingers of the woman who was responsible for pushing you into this state. “Do you like when Mommy hits you?” 

“Yes.” You whine, not even attempting to keep your hips still as Wanda collects your arousal on the tips of her fingers, but like promised, never reaches your clit. You cried out your protests when her fingers left your core, only for you to gasp in shock when she leaned forward on the bed and fed them expectantly to Natasha who let her mouth fall open in acceptance.

The redhead moaned at the taste of you on her tongue, lapping at Wanda’s fingers until they were clean of your excitement. A needy moan left your lips seeing the blissful expression on the face of your dominant, and desperately you reached out for her hand that laid next to yours overtop of the white blankets on the bed. She let you grasp it, let you squeeze it and pull at it, but she never leaned in any closer to you. This was a punishment, you would not be rewarded midway through. 

Wanda’s additional weight caused the bed to dip, and you had to readjust your stance to keep from slipping onto the floor. She wasn’t behind you anymore, rather perched on the bed beside your body, leaning in close to her wife whose lips shone in the dim lighting of the room with traces of your arousal. Wanda kissed her deeply, the wet sounds their moving mouths made taunting you further, and you groaned in response to their teasing. The lawyer who hadn’t even gotten halfway through your punishment moaned at the taste of you on her tongue, only pulling away from Natasha when she needed a break for air. 

She was back behind the second she was breathing normally, and the fourteenth spank came in the same place her thirteenth one had. You counted out the spanks as they came, but other than the contact her palm made with your ass, you were properly ignored. If Wanda made a comment, it was directed to Natasha, and the one time you had been bold enough to answer for yourself, you had been met with a spank to the back of your thigh that was admittedly very soft and careful. 

It was after twenty that you no longer found pleasure in her hits, and your moans and whines had turned to cries and sobs. Natasha held your hand firmly, her thumb rubbing against your knuckles as you took your punishment well. Wanda was proud of you, even if she hadn’t told you that yet. 

“F-forty!” You sobbed out, arching away from the lawyer's hand only seconds after it came down on your ass. Your entire body ached from the position you were half-stood in, your cunt pulsed with need, but your ass was on fire and you had no doubt that it would be bruised by sunrise tomorrow. “Please.” You cried out, but you didn’t even know what you were begging for.  

“You’re doing so good. You’re doing so good for me, milaya.” Wanda soothed you quickly and effectively, her tone soft and gentle as she let you have your feelings. The heavy hand that had been assaulting your skin for the last twenty minutes if the clock on her bedside table was accurate was suddenly soft as she rubbed soft circles on your ass, soothing the sting into a more bearable ache. “Ten more and then we can cuddle. Why don’t you let Natty’s hand go and she’ll go get you some water.” 

“N-No! No! Natty stay!” You held onto her desperately, like even the suggestion of her leaving would make it come true. 

“I’m staying, malyshka. I’m staying.” Natasha assured you, scooting closer to your trembling body so she could lay a hand on your naked back, her firm touch grounding you in this moment where both of your dominants were with you. “You’re okay. You’re being so good. Such a good girl. Ten more baby, think you can do that?” 

You nodded albeit weakly, and Wanda took that as her sign to keep going, to get this over with so that she could put her efforts into comforting you. It was on the last spank that you had crumbled completely, going limp against the bed as you sobbed in relief. You made the decision that you never wanted to piss Wanda off to this extent again. 

“Good girl. You were so good. Took your spanking so well.” Wanda helped you stand up, spinning you around so that her eyes could meet yours for the first time in half an hour. 

“Mommy.” You sobbed, falling face first into her chest, clutching the fabric of her shirt in your trembling fists. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You repeated it like a mantra, sobs and sniffles the only other audible sound that you could hear. You didn’t recognize Wanda praising you for taking your punishment so well, you didn’t hear her whisper of a promise that it was over and you were forgiven. You hadn’t even realized that Natasha had promptly left the bedroom and gone down to the kitchen to retrieve water and a snack if you wanted it. 

“Hey, hey. Look at me, look at Mommy.” Wanda coaxed your attention up at her, pulling your face out of the pit of darkness you had found against her chest. “You’re okay. It’s over. It’s all over.” 

You nodded weakly, letting Wanda guide you into the middle of the bed and onto your belly. As promised, she rubbed the cooling lotion into your skin, mumbling soft praises beneath her breath whenever you flinched away from the contact. The soft cooling effect hadn’t taken long to set in, and when it did, it was like an immediate sense of relief had washed over your senses, though everything was still foggy and far away. You only barely recognized Natasha sitting down beside you, but you whined in protest when she tried to pull you into her side, reaching out to Wanda with a pleading look in your eyes that neither one of them could ignore. 

It hurt to sit, that was putting it lightly, but you forced yourself up into a sitting position so that you could accept the bottle of water Natasha offered. She held it up to your lips as you gulped it down quickly, finishing half the bottle before she pulled it away, worried that you’d upset your stomach if you drank it all so quickly. Wanda had laid down beside you, forcing you onto her chest to alleviate the discomfort in your bottom. With your head on her chest, your legs between hers, your eyes searched for Natasha as she moved around the room, collecting pajamas and a wet washcloth that would be used to clean up the unfixed mess between your legs. 

The first pass of the warm fabric between your legs had rubbed against your clit accidentally, and you moaned in pleasure that was quickly taken away. “Sorry, sweetheart. Not tonight.” She shushed your cries softly, though it didn’t make you any happier. You wiggled against Wanda at the uncomfortable feeling you weren’t used to being left with, and she didn’t try to stop you from rubbing your legs together. 

“Tomorrow.” She whispered against your temple when you grew frustrated at not being able to fully satisfy the ache. “The more you move the worse it’s going to get. Mommy will take care of you tomorrow, just rest for right now. Close your eyes, detka.” 

When Wanda’s finger attempted to wipe the fallen tears off your cheeks, you were quick to capture the finger between your teeth, and she didn’t even stop you. She smiled down at your flushed face, feeling more than content with your current clinginess. She knew you were down pretty far in that floaty headspace Natasha managed to ease you into every so often, and pride swelled in her chest knowing you were comfortable enough to allow her the privilege of not only seeing you this way, but making you this way. 

“Ten bucks says she doesn’t leave your side tomorrow.” Natasha had hummed softly once she was sure you were asleep, only half dressed in the pajamas she had pulled out of the dresser for you. The shorts on your legs were a pair of hers, but you had been adamant against her putting the t-shirt on your body when you realized it entailed pulling away from Wanda’s chest. 

Wanda rolled her eyes, though there was a fond smile on her lips that gave away her true feelings about this shift in your dynamic. Not perfect, but getting there. “I’m not making a deal, I know I’ll lose, Romanoff.” 

“It’s Maximoff. Or did you forget?” Natasha quirked an auburn eyebrow, mirroring the expression Wanda had mastered after years of practice. She leaned over your body, careful not to jostle you too much and rouse you from slumber, and she kissed her wide softly, though the taste of your arousal still clung to her taste buds, and when Wanda realized, she shoved her away. 

“If you keep kissing me when you taste like her I’ll never be taken seriously again.” The Sokovian warned, already addicted to the taste of your arousal, though she took punishment seriously, and it wouldn't be until the early afternoon settled overtop of Westview tomorrow when you found out just how good she is with her tongue.

[sen-ya]

Life After Info Post

[Click here to access the Life After Digital Comic Book]

Summary: Two years ago, a viral outbreak rose the dead. Considering how his life had gone up to this point, surgeon Trafalgar Law figured this might as well happen too. When a supply run into the nearby city gets intercepted by a seemingly reckless and impulsive former patient, the dependable routine Law had settled into in this new life shatters. He finds himself exposed — his body out in the infected landscape, his conscious clawing to define what he believes is right, his heart begrudgingly deciding to find a new home on his sleeve. Maybe there’s more than a virus roaming the new world that can bring a dead man back to life.

Content Warnings: Canon typical violence, zombies/body horror (but lbr I am not good at making scary things look scary)

Relationships: Luffy x Law

Update Schedule: New page every Monday/Wednesday/Friday

Page Count: [37 posted | 55 drawn]

Latest Update: [7/21/24] WOWEE did I get myself carried away this morning. I just spent 5 hours organizing my comics and creating the digital comic book pages. I could have spent that time drawing or idk not doing what I do for my job, but I cannot be stopped. Anyway I blocked out 30 pages of this comic last week and they include the most intense action sequence I've ever done in my gotdang life. Wish me luck because I am nervous about tying down all my drawings lmao.

OLD UPDATES:

[6/29/24] HULLO! I'm doing so bad at keeping my masterposts updated lately I am sorry. All pages of life after are tagged life after if you're ever looking between masterpost updates! Also exciting update, I finally have figured out all the different plot points i'm gonna be hitting (yay!). I got hung up on something for awhile that made me not wanna work on this project, but I'm back at it. I think we'll end up with 6-7 parts! I have probably another 80-100 pages to draw lol. Also i got the app Magic Poser and it's AWESOME and I immediately used it to block out sets cuz MAN I hate backgrounds.

[6/10/24] HELLO. I'm sorry I've been shit at updating my masterposts lately. It's easiest to do from my computer, which I rarely use, and life has been happening. I also can't believe I bungled the queue and posted pg19 before pg18 i am very sorry 🤦 Eventually I'll have to turn this into an airtable base I'm sure, but until that day comes where I have like 100 pages of this comic we're stickin to the regular post lmao

[5/26/23] I got real caught up in doing summer of lawlu comics this week and this is the first week since the first week of April I haven't drawn new Life After pages and it feels weird 🙊

[5/19/24] More Luffy backstory comin' this week! :^)

[5/12/24] Updating now so get myself on schedule to update on Sundays like I had been with my other comic master post!

[5/8/24] Thank you to everyone who's liked/reblogged/comment on the first few pages!! It means the world to me that anyone's reading my silly little comics.

[4/28/24] HULLO. It’s happeninnng. I’ve spent the last few weeks working on this comic, and I gotta make this post so I can start queuing pages & link this in them! This is the most like….legit? Comic endeavor I’ve undertaken perhaps….ever. I’m very nervous about committing to how long it will need to be lol. This story is dear to my heart — zombie content is kind of my very favorite. I’ve always found it to be a great backdrop for exploring themes like grief, coping with change, community, and learning to live again. It’ll be a long haul but I hope you’ll ride it out with me!! Tomorrow I’ll be posting the first two pages. After that a page will post every Monday/Wednesday/Friday. As of this post I’ve completed over 20 pages so that I have a good lead on what’s posting and continuing to write, so I’m hopeful that’s a cadence I’ll be able to maintain. I’ll update this post weekly to include the most recent pages the way I do with my main comics master post. All pages will be tagged 'Life After' and I'll tag any pages with zombies in them with 'zombie' for blacklisting etc.

[factual-fantasy]

Happy 1st Birthday Jangles!!

This post was originally going to be a humongous comic filled with lore, goofs, and even a bit of angst? 👀 And then have a funny/wholesome ending. Just like Bibi’s birthday comic.

But.. I ran into a problem. I didn’t know what to get for Jangles.

For Bibi’s present it was obvious what to get him. He wanted a real friend. Bringing Jangles to life was perfect and really tied the whole comic together.

But Jangles? What does he want? 

I wracked my brain for days. And when I finally thought of an idea? I only had 8 days left to make it happen. Sketch the comic out on paper, sketch it again in digital, line it, color it, backgrounds, dialogue.. I also had to make the actual present so that its picture could be used in the comic. All while having a very busy schedule for this week AND while working on Moon Malfunction..

I thought I could pull it off. So I got to sketching right away.

The comic would start with me in a big black blob. Locking myself away to try and get this project done as fast as possible. You know, like a total drama queen XD

Bibi and Jangles break in, and Bibi tries to talk to me but I ignore him. Meanwhile Jangles goes over to this goopy present by the wall. The present has a tag with Jangles name on it. As he goes to open it I do a spoopy jump scare and tell him not to.  Jangles and I then proceed to go back and fourth. “Why not?” Because its not good enough yet. “I’m sure its fine, what is it? What’s it for?” I cant tell you what its for because its not that day yet. “What is that day? And why cant we know about it?” “BECAUSE, its a S E C R E T-”

Bibi then says I need a break. I tell him I cant because I’m running out of time. I tell him that it needs to be posted on a specific day and that it has to be perfect but I don’t know what to do..

Jangles then deadpans “Its my birthday isn’t it?”

“...Yes. It is.”

“Okay? So what? I get wanting to post it on the day. But why all this pressure for the perfect gift?”

I explain that Bibi got a big special comic for his birthday. It had all the bells and whistles and it had the perfect gift. Jangles. And I wanted to do the same for him. I explained that the problem though was I haven’t really written enough of Jangles character to know what he would want.. I then wrote for Jangles response to be,

“Well what I dont want is you stressing yourself out over me.”

..I stopped sketching the comic at that point. I realized that I was stressing myself out way too much over this comic. It was 1 in the morning at that point. I was already pushing myself so hard to get this done on time and make it perfect that all the fun was just zapped right out of it. 

But I still worried a bit. I care about Jangles as my character and I wanted to do something cool for him. I wanted to post this at midnight on the dot, but that would require me to stay up until then when I’m still wiped out from the day before.. I also still wanted to get him a cool present.. But again I figured Jangles wouldn’t want me to stress over this “big comic” and “special gift” stuff.  So I just settled for a break. 

This entire post was prepared early, and posted when ever I was awake enough to post it. All the days beforehand I spent just taking my time with Moon Malfunction and focusing on my schedule. And on the day I’m posting it, I plan to draw nothing. Just relax and take a break from everything. I’ll get back around to all my projects tomorrow.

I think a post with minimal effort and day of no Tumblr, is probably exactly what Jangles would have wanted. So Happy Birthday Jangles! And thanks for the day off! XD

[yopossum]

A little pulp illustration inspired Peña I doodled today. Retro mystery/psychological thriller paperback vibes.

Think I’m gonna have to write something to accompany it because now my wheels are turning.

Isn’t it cool how creative efforts beget creative efforts? I hadn’t written for a LONG time and had to get my ass in gear to apply for a fellowship for my regular writing and that triggered me to start actively reading more. Started reading Pedroverse fics here and on AO3 because I could only manage bite-sized reading windows. After reading lots of amazing things I got urge to finally jump in the fic pool to write more of the characters I wanted to read. Starting writing fics, started doing digital collage again to put together mood boards and fic graphics. Digital collages scratched my art and illustration itch enough to make me break out my tablet to draw for the first time in months.

Snowballer baby. If you like it, I don’t mind if you save or share wherever 💖

[jake-g-lockley]

Sweet Aftertaste (Javier Peña x reader)

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Wanna Be Tagged?

A/N: Sort of the sequel to “Cookies and Whiskey” but it can most definitely be read as a stand alone. Dedicated to @lil-stark cuz she’s been giving me the best ideas AHHHHH

Warnings: MDNI, smut, slight somno, cockwarming, marking (hickeys), unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving, kinda m receiving too, you’ll see), male masturbation, creampie, cum eating, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, dirty thoughts 🌚 (lmao let me know if I missed any haha)

Word Count: 2.8 k (of smut y’all)

You wake up with your face pressed in the pillow, a heavy weight pressing over your back. Everything ached around your body and you were hyper aware of the huge hand that had cupped your left tit, your bottom half numb with the pressure that was over you.

Suddenly the weight above you shifted, almost like he was aware you were awake and you felt whatever was between your legs. You stifled a moan as your pussy clenched around the cock that was speared deep inside of you. Your eyes fluttered open and soft light was flooding into the room, which either means you and him were at it for hours or he had fallen asleep with himself buried deep inside of you.

The soft snores from the man above you made you realise that he was still fast asleep, despite his cock being hard as a rock inside of you. You tried to shift, to relieve yourself a little from the aching throb that had started in your pussy, but to no avail.

You slid your hand down to your clit, and started to rub in small circles, the throbbing slowly ebbing out into waves of pleasure. Javier shifts slightly again, this time giving you enough room to gently move yourself up and down his length, your soft gasps and whimpers delivered straight into the pillow under you. It wasn’t long until your climax hits you, a long sigh pushing out of your lungs as you clench uncontrollably around Javier’s cock.

“I’m here, I’m here.” Javier answers and you finally realise that you were whimpering his name over and over as you came.

“Mornin’” you sigh as Javier tightens his grip around you and pushes his hips further into you

“Good morning to you too, princesa. Remember what I said last night?” he murmured into your ear as his fingers lightly pinched your nipple, making you melt further into the bed as your mind raced to figure out what he was on about.

You vaguely remembered attacking Javier with kisses after he and you munched on cookies. He scooped you up bridal style and you remembered refusing to fall asleep, despite being so sleepy that your eyes could barely stay open.

“We have work tomorrow, hermosa, go to sleep.” Javier had whispered.

But even his own resilience had snapped when your lips attached themselves to his neck, slowly turning every patch of skin a different colour, drawing out soft moans from his beautiful mouth.

He took control soon after, flipping you over and slowly undressing you, trailing kisses on every open patch of skin he could gain access to. He fixated on your tits, giving them both equal attention, letting your legs wrap around his torso as he sucked and licked at you, your body arching off the bed to meet his ministrations.

Two of his fingers slipped into your mouth and you sucked them at the same pace as Javier, grabbing ahold of his hand and wetting the two digits with your saliva. Javier smiled against you as he slowly pulled his fingers out, shifting slightly lower down your body and pressing his nose to your clothed mound. He inhaled deeply as his fingers trailed their way down your body.

“Can I please taste you, baby?” Javi keened, his other thumb rubbing small, soft circles on thigh, causing your legs to part further.

“Yes, Javi, please.” the bruises you left on Javier bloomed beautifully on his neck and you lazily smiled at the thought of him having to wear a tie in the Bogotá heat.

He gave you a look of pure ecstasy before diving in once more, licking a long wet strip up your clothed cunt, causing you to tilt your hips towards his face with a bruising moan. Gently, his two pinkies hooked themself onto the waistband of your panties, pulling them down and exposing your cunt to the cold air of the room.

He tucked your already wet panties into his sweats pocket as he brought his two wet fingers to your clit, rubbing gently at your hardening nub. Before you can let out a moan, Javier’s tongue was on you, licking broad strips before paying all attention to your clit, latching himself there and sucking hard, causing you to cry out as he pushed his fingers into you.

“Javi, don’t stop, keep going baby, please!”

It didn’t take him long to pull out an orgasm from you, making you writhe against the bed, the slight course burn of his moustache riling you up further. He didn’t let you come down from your high, effectively trying to pull your second orgasm as your hands slid into his locks, gripping them hard, causing him to eat you out more vigorously. Your legs shook hard, thighs pressing against the side of his face as you whimpered through your release, softly uttering Javi’s name.

As you tried to breathe and stop the room from spinning, Javier was already on his knees, pulling his sweats off and tossing them aside, revealing his throbbing cock. He wiped the access of your release and his saliva from your cunt, using the moisture to lube himself up. You watch him, his face covered with your spend, his hair out of place, his tanned body glistening with sweat, his cock long and hard in his fist.

With one hand, Javier flips you over. You push your butt up, exposing your cunt for Javier and feel him push inside you, stretching you out. The both of you stutter out your moans until Javier bottoms out, his pubic bone flush against your ass. You silently get ready for the hardest railing of your life when suddenly Javier pushes you down and lays on top of you, his mouth against your ear.

“Be a good girl and keep my cock inside you all night. I’ll fill you up to the brim in the morning, watch as you walk around all day at the office with me in you.” Javi’s filthy words flooded through your body like a wave and you whimpered.

“Go to sleep, I need you to be well rested, amor.” he whispered, kissing the shell of your ear.

You have no idea how you or him fell asleep, but exhaustion was apparent between the two of you as you drifted off finally.

Now, you gasped as he moved his hips and pulled his cock slightly out before pushing back in.

“Fuck Javi.” You moan and he chuckles delectably, his morning voice tuning up your arousal.

You stay planted against the mattress as Javier raises up and anchored himself with his elbows, bending down slightly to press a kiss onto your shoulder. He starts out slow, canting his hips back and forth, creating a soft rhythm that harmonised with your moans.

“Feel that baby? Taking me so well, my cock speared in you for hours, keeping you all stretched out.” Javier began to speed up, the angle causing the head of his cock to nudge against the spot that made your thighs shake.

“Just like that Javi, fuck, so fucking good.” You groan into the pillow.

“Pretty baby, perfect pussy, all mine.” Javier take it up a notch, pressing you down with brute force and fucking down into your cunt, his hands gripping hard at your hips.

“Javi, I’m close, please.” You whine as Javi hits all the right spots.

“Come for me, hermosa. Fuck, you’re so tight, baby.” He’s grinding into you now, you cunt clenching his cock a little too tightly.

Your whole body clenched inwards as you came, Javi’s name spilling out of you like a prayer, his voice coaxing you through, whispering generous praises.

“Javi?” You ask as you float back down to Earth.

“Hmm?” He was lazily fucking into your cunt, his hips barely moving.

“I wanna see you come.” You whisper, suddenly realising that he hadn’t had his own release since the night before.

You silently wondered where he got all the stamina from, his cock harder than ever inside you. He obliges your command, pulling gently as possible out of you and turning you over. He looks beautiful in the morning glow, his sleep-addled eyes making you smile happily up at him.

He takes your legs and places them on either side of his shoulders before slotting himself inside of you once again, pushing a shaky breath out of you. The new angle gave you a new rush of arousal as Javi looked down at you, absolutely in awe.

His hand reaches down to graze your face as he takes all of you in. You reach out and let your fingertips slightly dance against his abdomen, tracing his tummy as he leans slightly forward.

“You’re so beautiful, Javier Peña. You know that?” you lazily whispered into the air as your eyes fluttered close, not before catching the pretty pink flush creeping up his neck.

Javi strained, willing himself not to come just at your words. They were so soft, so you. He couldn’t believe that he had you with him right now, his hand taking yours and lacing your fingers with his.

He needed to feel you, to see you and know that this was really happening. Your thumb reassuringly stroked the back of his hand and he began to move, very slowly thrusting himself in and out of you. He wanted to close his eyes but they were fixated on the way your tits jiggled rhythmically from the way he was moving, the fluidity of your body structure egging him on.

His free hand trails down your abdomen, grabbing your flesh slightly as he paced himself again, not wanting to hurt you from the intensity of his pleasure. You could tell he was holding back but as your eyes found his, you let him have this moment of control as the sounds of your moans and his combined.

Suddenly, he gasped a little, as if holding in a breath, his hand trailing slightly lower and his thumb started rubbing slow pressured circles to your abused nub, making you arch your back slightly at the overstimulation, your eyes shutting fully.

“I know you can give me one more bebita, just breathe and eyes on me.” Javi’s voice was airy and your eyes snapped open.

“Come... with me, please. Fill… me” You stuttered out, despite knowing the fact that Javi had been planning it all along.

Javier pressed his whole body forward, folding you in half, surprised at your flexibility as the both of you came together, Javier’s hips stilling and shooting his load deep into you. Your cunt clenched hard, milking him for all his worth.

You came to first, smiling up at Javier and wiping sweat off his brow, pushing yourself upward to give him a big thank you kiss. Javier chuckled as you kissed him, pulling away after a while so that you could get comfortable.

He watched as his spend mixed with yours dribbled out of your cunt as he pulled himself out, resisting the urge to push it all back with his fingers. You narrowed your eyes at him and slid your hand down your abdomen, collecting his cum that had dribbled out and brought it up to your mouth.

Javier watched open-mouthed as you sucked your fingers clean, putting up a little show for him as your other hand grabbed one of your tits and your back arched up. You opened your mouth to show him and watched him with big doe-like eyes that made him want to repeat every single thing he did to you all over again. You closed your mouth and swallowed, smirking up at him as he reminded himself to breathe.

“Oh you devil woman.” He hissed, gathering you up in his arms.

“Only yours.” You whispered back with a wink as Javier stood up and carried you bridal style into the bathroom, smiling as you gently kissed his jaw before tucking your face into the space at his neck.

Javi puts you down and turns on the rain shower and he pulls you close so that your back is flushed to his chest grabbing his shampoo bottle and lathering the product into your hair. You couldn’t help but moan at the way his dexterous fingers started massaging your scalp. Javier stared warningly down at you as his cock started hardening again against your behind.

Despite getting riled up again, he silently continues to slowly massage your head and you’re literally in ecstasy, your moans and groans filling up the shower and mingling with the steam. Once he's rinsed out all the shampoo, he gets a washcloth and starts gently rubbing your body and your heart swelled with happiness at the way he was treating you.

He softly kissed the marks that he had left on your body and whispered apologies against your skin, barely audible over the sound of the shower and the water hitting your bodies. Javier dropped to his knees and rubbed between your legs, making you gasp softly. It was his time to smirk up at you and you internally rolled your eyes exasperatedly at him as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

After he’s done with you, he turns off the shower and wraps you up in a towel, practically kicking you out of the shower as you kiss him a little too deeply again. You respect the fact that Javier needed a little alone time as you padded your way out of the bathroom to explore his flat and find some clothes for yourself.

The second you closed the door behind you, Javier turned the water as cold as he possibly could handle, his hand finding his hardened cock and his arm bracing himself against the shower wall. He couldn’t get over the thought of you licking his spend of your fingers, behaving in such an erotic manner only for his eyes to see. He bites his bottom lip to keep the unholy sounds from escaping, tightening his fist around his cock, pretending that it was your warm, beautiful mouth.

His eyes were screwed tightly shut as he tried to imagine how his hands would slide into your hair, gripping it tightly at the root as he used you to get himself off. Your muted moans and cries would be too much for him to handle and he wouldn’t last long if you kept gagging around his cock, your throat closing around the head, causing him to shoot his load straight down your oesophagus.

Javier gasped in deep breaths as his cock spurted thick loads of cum, causing him to feel giddy and dizzy. He slowed down his movements to prolong his release, slumping against the shower wall as the water calmed him down from his high, taking big gulps of hair to fill his lungs. He quickly rinsed himself off and dried off, wrapping a towel around his waist and exiting the bathroom.

He heard sounds coming from his kitchen and he went to lean against the wall opposite it, watching you. You had taken one of his shirts and modified it to fit you, the sleeves folded and the excess fabric tied at the front. You were pouring out two cups of coffee before looking up and grinning at Javier. Your hair was partially dried and it was dampening the shoulders of his shirt but he thought you looked absolutely stunning, his smile lopsided and his dimple apparent.

You walked up to him and kissed his cheek, handing him his cup of coffee, which he gladly thanked you for, immediately taking a sip, before setting it down to go and get ready. You slipped into his room and watched as he tucked in his shirt and buckled his belt, grinning shamelessly at the bruises he sported on his neck. You grabbed the tie set out on his bed and pushed him to sit down, standing between his legs.

Javier’s hands rested on your hips as you slowly knotted his tie. You loved the domesticity of the situation, the quiet morning creating a picture of peace for you and him to enjoy. You folded his collar and adjusted it so that the worst of the bruises were covered. You turned around and grabbed his bottle of cologne, spraying it on him before spraying some on yourself. Javier raised his eyebrows at you, amused and you shrugged.

“What? I don’t have my perfume with me.” You said as you capped the bottle and Javier stood up and wrapped his arms around you.

“Might I remind you that you now smell identical to me?’ He said before kissing the soft spot behind your ear.

“So?” You whispered.

“People are going to talk.”

“Let them, Javi.” Your hands trailed up his arms that were around you.

Javi hummed against your neck, agreeing to whatever you were saying. Their opinions didn’t matter anyway, you were his and he was yours and absolutely nothing in this world would change that.

Reblogs are appreciated ~~~

Taglist: @joygirlmelii @wolfbook87 @nyotamalfoy @minigirl87 @alexxavicry @bloodredwolfsbane @euphoricosmo @celiaswife @swiggy-needs-mental-help @ryebreadsworld @your-voice-is-mellifluous @lil-stark @absolutelybloodyhopeless @mintpurplemnm @bubblezuku @cookielovesbook-akie @mandoloriancookie @magic-schoolbusdropout @anony-muse @anonymously35 @nerdreader

[adabear]

I wrote a supercorp ficlet about hands because I’m gay gay homo gay I’ve never written fiction that wasn’t a comic before shut UP (I’m embarrassed)

hands

“You have such pretty hands.” Kara held Lena’s hands, open, small, and pale on top of her own. Lena’s hands were elegant, long fingered, with carefully maintained nails (black today) splayed out for Kara’s careful gaze. The kryptonian closed her grasp around Lena, just a little, and ran a careful thumb down the interior of her middle finger. A callous, from holding a pen maybe. And there, on her thumb was a flat, silver scar, so small you could miss it. 

“I was nine. Playing with a soldering gun,” Lena helpfully supplied, the promise of a laugh in her voice. 

Kara closed her hands around Lena’s fully, weaving their fingers together and wiggling their joined fists playfully. A little squeeze. She’d held Lena’s hand before, plenty of times. She knew them like- well like the back of her own hand. But things had felt a little… different lately. They had lunches, and game nights, and movie sleepovers. They’d always had those. But something about them lately seemed significant. A little more important. Kara couldn’t really explain how it just. It just was. 

It was silly really, a quick movement, playful affection between friends when suddenly Kara found herself unable to resist drawing Lena’s pale knuckles to her lips and kissing them. Giggly, chaste little pecks that made Kara’s chest feel so full she had to drop Lena’s hands back in their laps, and laugh, and hide her face behind her own journalist’s palms. She heard Lena laughing too but couldn’t look. 

“Sorry! Sorry, having a silly day. I’ve been thinking about going back to Catco and I’ve been writing all these articles because when I ask for my job back I want to have something good and I’m just,” Kara paused, finally coming out from hiding. “I’m being goofy,” she laughed, cheeks rosy, finally looking Lena in the eye.

And oh… she had expected Lena to be laughing at her antics too, or maybe picking at the half finished salad left by the demolished remains of Kara’s own lunch. Instead, Lena was giving her one of those looks. Those significant looks, the kind that made their time together feel so important lately. Her gaze, so green, was open and warm and just so, so fond. It sent something crackly and electric ping ponging around in Kara’s chest. She wanted to look away, to hide again, felt her face burning so hot it ached in the tips of her ears, but Lena didn’t look away. Instead, the promise of a smile tugged at her vermillion lips. Kara’s breath caught in her chest.

And Lena looked down. The broken gaze was permission to breathe again. Kara huffed out another little giggle and looked down too, relieved and disappointed that whatever that was had ended. The tingle of adrenaline slowly dwindled down to her fingertips. 

Kara watched Lena run her own pointer down the back of tanned, strong hands. 

“You have pretty hands too,” Lena murmured. And oh no. The buzzing crackle in Kara’s chest roared back to life. She didn’t dare look up, watching Lena’s black nail trace each finger from knuckle to tip with a featherlight touch. Out and back again, a careful, tactile observation.

“You think? I dunno I guess I never thought about them you know they’re just my hands so I see them everyday and-“ Lena stopped Kara’s babbling by turning her wrist, splaying both of Kara’s hands palm up. Why was THAT so affecting?

“Th-they-“ A false start. Oh jeez. The blonde watched Lena knead the pad of her thumb into Kara’s palms, gently massaging them. “I almost wish I could get scars sometimes, you know? Your hands have a story to them but mine are just boring old h-hands!” 

Kara knew her voice was steadily rising in pitch but found herself entirely unable to control it. The brunette had moved on to squeezing each digit delicately and oh Kara would not have expected that to feel so nice. The little buzzy feeling in Kara’s chest was growing, sizzle hot and ticklish, and she felt she might burst. 

“I like them,” Lena said simply, raising Kara’s palms to her face. The Kryptonian watched the motion, utterly dumbstruck, until their eyes met over their shared grasp. Kara froze, held in place by a gaze as effective as Kryptonite. Lena’s eyes were half-lidded, laughing, her lips upturned in a fond, lazy smile. Like she knew exactly what these moments were, where they were going, like she savored lingering in them. 

Kara had a half a second’s notice to realize what was about to happen. A warm breath gusted, ticklish, across the pulse point in her wrist. Lena broke their gaze, eyelashes fluttering low over her cheeks as the brunette looked down. And pressed a single, lingering kiss to the heel of Kara’s hand. 

Something like a squeak must have come out of Kara’s mouth because suddenly Lena was laughing. She returned the superhero’s limp hands to her own lap. Kara found herself flushed and a little miffed. Utterly incapacitated by green eyes and careful fingers. Oh Rao. 

“Are you alright, darling?” Lena laughed, blessedly turning back to her salad so that the blonde could begin the process of returning to her body. 

Kara struggled for only a moment before squeaking, embarrassed and affectionate, “You’re teasing me!!” 

At that, Lena only smiled, unapologetic.

[petewentzisblack1312]

hii! here's my other piece from the zine Sing It Like The Kids That Are Mean To You (created by @thrashbeatles and laid out by @birdloaf, get your physical copy here (when its in stock) and your digital copy here)

Pete Wentz is, in many ways, the driving force behind Fall Out Boy, and he is a biracial black man. It is no surprise, then, that blackness is ever-present within the band’s art, through genre, through lyrics, through politics. Let’s talk about how race colours their work.

            To start, black genre influences are scattered throughout the band’s discography. The album art of Take This to Your Grave is an homage to John Coltrane’s iconic album Blue Train. Infinity on High is filled to the brim with funk, soul and R&B influences on songs like I’m Like a Lawyer with the Way I’m Always Trying to Get You Off (Me & You) and This Ain’t a Scene, It’s an Arms Race. American Beauty/American Psycho was an experiment in emulating mixtape culture, filled with samples and electronic beats, and getting its own remix album, Make America Psycho Again. M A  N   I    A drew its influence from dancehall and reggae, especially on Sunshine Riptide and HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON’T. They haven’t been shy about incorporating black genres into their work, and in fact, it seems to be a staple for them.

            Additionally, Pete Wentz’s lyricism in and of itself is in fact heavily influenced by black art, and one could argue it is quintessentially the work of a black poet. In his lyrics are strategic plays on words, inversions and remixes of classic phrases, and an endless stream of cultural references, all akin to the wit and flow of a rapper. Think lines like “I’m a painter and I’m drawing a blank,” or “You take the full, full truth and you pour some out.” Indeed, in his words you’ll even find braggadocio, a staple in hip hop, though his comes with a helping of self-deprecation, like in the line “Signing off, I’m alright in bed but I’m better with a pen/The kid was alright then it went to his head.” This is arguably a feature which endears so many people to his work, and it is the one which shows his blackness most evidently.

            Finally, while Fall Out Boy itself is not an overtly political act, the band has at times used their music to espouse black politics. In You’re Crashing, But You’re No Wave, the lyrics tell the story of Fred Hampton Jr’s conviction for aggravated arson following the 1992 LA riots protesting the acquittal of the police officers who murdered Rodney King. The song Novocaine also deals with black politics, being inspired by the murder of Trayvon Martin and primarily about the corruption of and threat posed by the police to black youth.

            The core idea behind Fall Out Boy is to make music “for the kids who feel like they don’t fit in anywhere”. When that sentiment is espoused by a man who grew up as part of the only black family in his neighbourhood, it gains a whole new meaning. Fall Out Boy is, in a very real way, for niggas.

[babygorewhore]

Giving spirit.

Tate Langdon blurb.

18plus only! Fem reader. Smut. Period sex. Extremely little plot. Not proofread because I just needed to get out how horny I am for Tate.

You decide to give Tate a Christmas present. Tate wants to show you how much you mean to him. Extended version of my period sex with him.

You knew Tate normally hated Christmas. It was just another reminder of his eternal existence in the Murder house. You weren’t a ghost like him. Tate refused to ever hurt you. You were made of glass to him. His little Doll. But you weren’t, you often reminded him over text as you browsed the mall for perfect gifts for him.

You selected a variety of things, different band shirts, CDs and finally a sketch book with several pens and markers. Tate had taken to drawing lately and you wanted to support his healthy coping mechanism.

When you came back to the Murder house, you were immediately greeted by Tate and he pulled you in close.

His arms tight around you, cheek rested against your head and you felt his heartbeat. “Hi to you too,” you laughed and returned the embrace.

You pulled back. His brown eyes searched yours for any sign of trouble. “You were gone forever.” You shook your head at him, cupping the back of his head and toyed with his curls.

“I was not. Besides, I had to get the perfect gifts for you.” You teased.

“Baby, I told you I don’t need-“ You pressed a finger against his lips, feigning frustration. Tate quickly took in the digit past his lips, holding your wrist and he sucked.

You squealed, pulling back and ignoring the flutter in your core. “Come on. Let’s go upstairs before other ghosts annoy us.”

You both settled in the bedroom, sitting across each other on the bed. Tate was mostly silent as you laid out your purchases across the blanket. Grinning, you looked up to meet his brown eyes. They were glassy and he toyed with the sleeve of his sweater.

“Nobody’s ever given me a gift before, baby. But-they’re perfect.” Tate held up the CDS, before rising from his place and putting them in the stereo.

He removed his shirt, exposing his slender figure but strong muscles flexed as you swallowed. He looked back at you, “What? I have to try on the shirt. To make sure it fits.” He said with a smirk.

Two could play at this game, you thought. You stood too, picking up his discarded sweater and putting it on. “We can play dress up.” You said, raising your eyebrows.

Tate’s smirk grew and his eyes darkened as he took you in. Standing close enough to touch shoes. He twirled his finger, signaling you to spin around. “Mmm. You look so perfect, princess.” You ducked your head down, bashful but Tate lifted your chin up to meet his stare.

You pulsed between your legs as Tate caught your lips. His soft mouth warm against yours, his tongue darted out and set itself inside. Your hands flew to his head, gripping his hair and his were secure around your hips. You could feel him hardening against your pelvis. Reminding you of an uncomfortable reality.

“Wait,” You pulled back dreadfully. “I-I’m on my period. I thought I’d be done but I’m not yet.”

Tate leaned in again, kissing you harder. “That doesn’t bother me, is this okay?” You moaned, managing a low yes as he guided you on the bed.

You landed on your back and Tate hovered over you as he pulled down your skirt and underwear with the pad attached. “Fuck. I need you, I love you so much.” He licked a stripe up your neck before sucking your pulse point, peppering open mouth kisses on your collarbone. You starting grinding against his knee that was inbetween your legs. Your skin growing hotter as Tate’s long fingers settled above your pussy. “I don’t even need to spit,” He paused and looked down at you. “On your cunt.” Before he spat in your mouth.

His pointer and middle finger circled your clit, enough pressure to make your back arch, your head pressing against the bed. You whined as he teased your entrance, before settling again in the center. His callused fingertips adding more sensitivity. “I’m-I’m sorry-for getting blood on you.” You gasped.

“I don’t fucking care about that. I just need you.” He smashed his lips against yours in a searing kiss. Marking you.

He finally slide his fingers into you, curling them upward. Blood giving him extra slick and you bucked your hips wildly. His knuckles kissed your clit and you felt like you were going to explode. “Fuck me,” It was too quiet for him to hear. You cupped his face. “Tate, please fuck me. I want-I want you to cum in me.”

He didn’t hesitate for a second, his aggression disappearing and morphing into desperation. Tate practically threw off his jeans and boxers, lining his heavy, pre cum leaking cock against your pussy.

You almost screamed when he pressed into you, skin slapping against each other as he fucked you deep. You inhaled sharply as he pulled out, his dick coated in a light layer of blood and wetness before slamming back in. You clawed at his back, still covered by his shirt that you were too fucked to pull off.

Your stomach tightened, your pussy clenching around him as he thrusted so hard that headboard slammed against the wall. “Baby-I’m gonna-“

Tate hovered over your mouth, his own whimpers and moans filling the air as rock music played. “Cum. God, please. I need you to cum around me.”

Immediately after, you stilled and your eyes rolled back. You came hard, sweat dripped down your forehead into your hair. Your mouth was open before your eyes squeezed shut.

Warm cum spilled inside you as Tate’s thrust grew sloppy. His head in the crook of your neck as he slowed to a stop. Your legs were still around his hips. He got up, quickly grabbing a towel and cleaning himself up. Then you. You felt light, fucked senseless and slightly sore. Tate must have known the discomfort as he helped change into comfortable clothes.

Tate adjusted you on the mattress, laying behind you. He covered you both with the blanket, his hands soothing you as he kissed the back of your neck. “You okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah, baby. You didn’t have to do all this. I’m okay. I’m just-“

“Fucked out?” He chuckled and you elbowed him. “You were so thoughtful to me…and I love being with you. I love you more than anything.”

You tightened your hold on his arms and allowed yourself to enjoy this moment.

Tagging moots. @xxhellfirebunnyxx @scene-and-dandylover @ifeeltoofuckingmuch @elaine-in-the-membrane @icannot3 @slvt4jamesmarch @reidsbtch @taintandviolent @lithium80sblog @alittlesil

Technically this could be considered a short fic. But I don’t do short fics lol. So I call it a blurb.

[miioouu]

I think about Camgirl x soap….maybe part 2??

Haha, finally done with university so now i have all the time in the world to think and drool over hot fictional men with you all!!! Here’s part one of this. TW: smut, phone sex, female reader WC: 950 

Weeks pass since you and your favourite fan started talking. Although you've learned a bit about him, never his name “Call me Soap, kitten. Sounds hot when you do” And now you don't have to wonder what he sounds like. If you think his comments in the chat are lewd, you're not ready for the voice messages he leaves you past midnight. 

Breathy whispers, low groans and whines; he told you he has to keep quiet, he shares a room with his colleagues, and yet, he can't help it, it's become a routine for the both of you now. You wait for your screen to light up, a giddy smile on your face when you press the play button “Thought ‘bout you all day long bonnie. Sucked at practice today, my aim’s shitty because of you now, might lose my job because of you, sweet kitty” He always starts the blaming, making you roll your eyes as you bite your lip, waiting in anticipation for what's coming next. The sound of his sheets being shifted under his weight, he hisses when the bed creaks a little too loudly, it makes you giggle the way he blames you some more. “But you'd like that, eh? If I lost my job? You'd love it, all my attention would be on you, not like it's not now…you're always on my mind, those pretty tits of yours. Gosh those perky nipples, wanna suck on ‘em'' His breathing becomes heavy, and so does yours. It doesn't take a genius to know that he's slipping his hand under his boxers, the sound of the elastic softly smacking against his skin is an obvious indicator, and you can't help but join him. “Want my hands all over you, pretty girl. I know you want it too, yeah? So soft I bet. So plush, just want to bite you, and leave my mark on ya.” 

And he blames you again “So far away from me. If you were here, it would be your hand wrapped around my cock, kitty. And if I’m lucky enough maybe it would be your mouth, yeah?” He takes in a sharp breath, and so do you. You exhale shakily as your fingers dip under your cotton panties, sucking your teeth at how wet you are, maybe you should send him a picture? He deserves it after all. The tip of your digits brushing against your twitching clit, and you huff, imagining, and being sure that his hands would feel a lot better; rough and calloused against your soft skin, it would feel like heaven. “Fuck, I can already picture it, bonnie. Those sweet lips of yours, you know I love it when you put on that red lipstick too. Can you imagine it, how it would leave a pretty ring around my dick? So pretty, all yours to taste too.” He hums, the sound of his slick can be faintly heard in the background of the voice message. You drooled at the thought, making you think about how he’d taste. Salty, a little sour maybe? Maybe even with a hint of sweetness, the guy is in shape and cares about his health. If not for the military, for you; the pride that swells in his chest whenever you mention how badly you want to bite his arm, how much you need to lick on his abs. The image alone flusters you. You groan as you push your panties down, they frustrate you as you keep drawing tight circles against your bundle of nerves, trying to match his pace. You know how he likes it too, he’s spoken about it before; “Slow kitty… I like the build up. Slow and nice, not too tightly. And then my mind starts to wander, to you and that silk blue set, and I go crazy. I can’t help it, ok? Wanna know how tight you’d be around me.” 

“Or maybe, if the Gods are on my side, I can feel that pretty cunny of yours, eh? What do you say? I think she’d love me. God, kitty, I wanna stretch you out. Wanna make you cry on it, wanna make you bounce on it, wanna make you cream on it. Gosh kitty, I bet you’d love it. I’d fuck you so good, I promise you I will, so good you’d forget about those silicon toys of yours, they can’t compare. I’ll make it so you can’t think about anyone but me, no one will ever make you feel the way I’ll make you feel sweetheart.”  

His voice is rough and breathless, like he’s slowly descending to madness, slowly ascending to heaven. The rest of his message is the echoing of his groans and shallow breaths, it’s like he’s biting his lip to not let out a too loud noise. He spits on his sensitive tip, letting if ooze down his length and the thought of it alone is making your arch your back. He’s so good at it, he should’ve been the one on the screen, he’d make millions from his voice and heavy accent alone. It’s the repeating whispers of your name that gave him away and pushed you over the edge. You moan out his ‘name’ again, you let it roll out your tongue like a prayer, Goodness, you needed him badly too. He deserves a reward no? The man that got you obsessed and delusional, he deserves a picture of your drenched fingers pulled apart and connected with your juices. He also deserves that last message you sent before completely shutting off your phone to mellow down your excitement and anxiety “Maybe you will feel ‘that pretty cunny’ soon, mmm? What do you think?”

[indieyuugure]

How do u draw your characters bc I want make a comic series just like you but my art teacher isn't teaching me shit so I was wondering

Should I do paper comic (doing it on paper)

Or digital (which might be a bit hard to step as I wouldn't have the stuff on hand)

Ps art style is fantastic 👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏

Lol, I’ll try to help the best I can!

Okay, so, I’m not exactly sure what you’re having trouble with specifically, so I’ll just try to keep it general.

For starters, drawing a person at all, typically I start with a sketch that looks something like one of these:

Notice the usage of circles as guides for the joints. I find that this helps me to understand where in 3D space the character’s elbow or knee or shoulder or wherever is and can also assist with proportions before the drawing is being finalized and would be a pain to fix/erase.

Not sure how helpful this is, but here’s showing how the drawing evolves as a sketch. The circles help to predict where things’ll be so when you go to draw a rough outline, you have a guide to help you.

I draw chests as usually a trapezoid-esk shape and the hips as triangles(however I recommend drawing it more like a heart when doing girls). The head is kept a circle or oval depending on the character’s face shape and things like hands and feet are basically just a mix of squares and triangles.

Something to keep in mind, is the lack of detail on basically everything. I know from experience how tempting it is to do the detail as you go, and it’s not a good habit to have. Always try to sketch everything in as little detail as possible.

Once you’re done with your sketch, though, you can go crazy!

Here’s the second picture I did with some details.

Unfortunately, I can’t really help you with detailing since this step starts incorporating your own art style, personal flourishes, clothing taste, even level of detailing, it’s really something you have to learn on your own.

But, GENERALLY, this is where you establish key characteristics like the face, anatomy, clothing, hair, etc. Aka make it pretty!

Again I’m not super sure where you’re struggling, so this is just a general how-to, though hopefully it was helpful!

As for what medium to do your comic on, I suggest doing it in whichever you’re the most comfortable in. If drawing on paper is better for you, sticking with it is perfectly fine. I will say though if you ever plan to post said comic on the internet, digital is a lot easier to upload on the internet. But as I said, which ever is most comfortable is probably best.

If you have anymore questions about this, feel free to message me, I’ll try my best to help you to the best of my ability!

Good questions! :]

[mitchellpete]

Kinktober Day 1 - Overstimulation

pairing: tom “iceman” kazansky x f!reader

cw: overstimulation, multiple orgasms, crying, fingering, penetrative sex, a hint of sub/dom dynamic, praise, cum marking

word count: 1211

kinktober masterlist here.

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

-

You’re not sure how much more you can take. 

Your body feels sticky with heat, sweat coating your forehead and your neck, and the obscene wet noises down below make it entirely difficult to differentiate where you’re sweating and where you’re dripping from Ice’s work on your tired and spent body. You feel wet everywhere.

A strangled moan escapes your throat as your legs start to coax up in sensitivity, but his fingers don’t stop their unrelenting thrusts into your leaking cunt. Three fingers, and the casual, tormenting tease of his tongue. Despite the very significant mess he’s created between your legs, he still hasn’t fucked you. It was all you’d wanted tonight, after rushing home from the O Club. You’d asked him to, moaned it into his mouth when he backed you against the wall as soon as you were behind closed doors. 

“Please fuck me.”

And now, an hour later, you’re exhausted, your fingers stiff from gripping the bed sheets. And there’s still a hard look of concentration on his face.

He’d started out with his usual foreplay, his kisses deep and full as he touched you all over. Tingling sensations and feather light touches, quiet praises against your skin. And when his big hand cupped your core and his first digit sank into your heat, he was set on what he wanted to do.

You’re not sure how many times he’s made you cum so far. Two, perhaps? Three, most likely. Or four…? You don’t know. All you can focus on is the tight, achy feeling in your core and his continued spill of praises as you take it.

And God, how good it feels.

“Tom,” you rasp, a whine stuck in the back of your throat as he scissors his fingers inside of you. The noises would probably embarrass you if you were in the right headspace to process them. “It hurts.”

He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t take pity on you. You’ve got a safe word. You can use it whenever you need to. And he knows you’re strong. He knows you can take it.

When he leans down to swipe his tongue over your nerves, it washes over you again. Another orgasm, and it feels so good, but so agonizing. It takes over you entirely, legs somehow shaking and going limp at the same time. You wearily reach between your legs to push him away, the sensitivity becoming too much, but he doesn’t budge. He does harshly draw his fingers out of you all of a sudden, though, eliciting a high-pitched noise from you at the unexpected emptiness.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, leaning up off his haunches to finally finish undressing himself. 

“Tom.” 

You feel so fucked out and overwhelmed, all you can speak is his name. Tears brim your eyes as the orgasm lingers, the buzz sticking to every corner of your insides. 

Ice gets his pants off, languidly stroking himself as he nears you. “You okay, baby?” he asks sweetly. 

You almost hiccup as a tear slips down your cheek, but you nod in response. 

He leans down to wipe it away, pressing a few kisses to your cheek. “You think you can handle one more?” he asks, voice still tender.

If it means finally having him inside you, you nod again, tired arms reaching up to wrap around his shoulders. “Yes,” you mumble weakly.

His face breaks out into a beautiful smile, and he kisses your lips one, two times. “I know, baby, I know you can.” Another kiss. “I’m gonna take good care of you.”

You’re distracted then, from everything except his grin above you, his full lips, the twinkle in his eye. He does take such good care of you. Softens you up and then tests your limits, makes you keep up with him. He’s always so fast, so collected, so well put together. You feel like you can do anything for him. Certainly this.

Although he’s still kissing you softly, your momentary relief comes to a halt when you suddenly feel him press the head of his cock against you. 

Yet another whine slips past your lips and against his when he very gently pushes in. Your grip around his shoulders tightens. It’s all too much again.

He’s got you, though, as always. His face hovers above yours, watching your lidded eyes and how your lashes flutter as he sinks into you. Despite how open he worked you, he feels too big, the stretch slightly more painful than pleasant. It’s not until his cock touches the same spot that he’d been agitating with his fingers that the budding feeling in the pit of your stomach returns. He swallows your moans with kisses, situating himself as deep inside of you as he can. 

You wail out when he starts thrusting. 

His lips remain soft against you but his pace immediately quickens as he chases his high. You’re an incoherent mess, your body wrecked in sensitivity.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he coos against your cheek, finding his rhythm in the slick of your walls. A stifled groan escapes him, his composure halting. 

“Tom,” you cry out. “Please.” You’re blinking and more tears are slipping down your cheeks, but you can still hold on, you think.

“You can do it,” he reiterates, a stern tone in his voice. Very Iceman of him. 

The budding feeling in your stomach grows as he pounds into you, but it feels inaccessible. Too far to reach. As if it were outside your body instead of in, but you feel it after all and it still feels good despite the pain.

Your moans begin to mix with choked out sobs, Ice’s pace harsh and punishing despite your state of disarray. You focus less on the sting inside you and on the decorative look of pleasure on his face, and it somehow alleviates your discomfort just a bit, white hot ecstasy licking you from head to toe.

You unintentionally claw at his freckled shoulders when you somehow cum again. 

Ice groans against your ear when he reaches his orgasm and then immediately pulls out,  pushing himself up on his knees and wrapping a hand around himself to paint you with his cum. Sticky and warm, it falls all over your throbbing core and around your upper thighs. He bites down on his plush bottom lip, trapping most of his moans. Always too good at controlling himself.

You, on the contrary, fling an arm over your eyes, wiping at your tears with your forearm. You’re a mess; still wet and flushed, body buzzing. You’re sniffling a lot and your face is probably puffy from crying, you think to yourself. You’re beat. 

Ice leans down again to kiss you deeply, grinning against your lips. Tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, he presses his forehead to yours and gently wipes at the tears marked on your face with the back of his hand. “You did good, baby.”

All you can do is pout in response.

Ice cups your face with both hands, kissing you gently as you both come down from your high. Your heavy breathing ceases eventually, his and yours, and so does the electricity flowing through your body. 

“How does a warm bath sound?” Ice asks.

[feyspeaker]

Hi! I made an account just so I could follow your work. Your art is brilliant and honestly and inspiration to where I want to be. I’m an older artist who has all the anxiety when it comes to improving my process. I’m trying to get into digital portraits and I have so many ideas in my head, but it’s frustrating because I’m not where I want to be to make this happen. What are some tricks that help you/software do you use? Of course, you don’t have to share anything that makes you uncomfortable. I currently have procreate and an iPad, but I feel a little lost. Wondering if I need a different writing tablet and photoshop. Not sure. I just eventually want to find that 3D, but also artistic look you are able to achieve.

hey there! thank you so much!!

ultimately, I will sound like a broken record but I always recommend you sign up for local figure drawing or painting classes. have people pose for you at home and sketch with charcoal and paper. go to the zoo and sit down in front on an exhibit for an hour and try to draw the animals in front of you as fast as you can and fill a couple of pages, move on to a new exhibit and do it again!

nothing is more powerful of a tool to learn than whatever writing utensil you have in your purse and the back of a napkin when you see something you'd like to capture. I've spent quite frankly my entire rememberable life doing this. I used to spend every single day in middle school/high school/my brief failed stint in community college with a pack of cheap sharpies and a beat up binder full of old worksheets and homework to draw on the backs of.

drawing/painting from life will teach you better than anything.

I use a very outdated version of Photoshop, and only got a "nice" tablet in the past 7 months.

Also, a huge tip to you and anyone else reading this: do NOT get too focused on a "style" that you want. Obsessing over that just ruined me for years and years. I wanted so, so, so badly to be the next Matsuri Hino when I was a kid. I copied her work religiously and it NEVER looked right. Frustrated me to no end. And you know why my stuff never looked like hers? Because I'm not her! You can't force your art to come out any way that isn't natural, and the sooner you can accept the art your hand wants to create, the happier you'll be and the easier art will get for you.

The past couple of years before I started diving into this more realism based work, I was just shoving myself through trying to make what art I envied of others. Very stylized/textured watercolor comic book style stuff. And I just was NOT getting any better at it. I have always been more inclined toward realism work, but I've hated it and yearned for stylized work. Yoshitaka Amano? God, I just drooled over that artstyle and beat myself up for never being able to capture it in studies or otherwise.

I finally essentially restructured my entire career around making the art that makes me happy instead of what I "wanted" it to look like. I was extremely depressed, my life was falling apart, and I still needed to make art to survive but I couldn't "art" if I was depressed and hated doing it, so I just had to step back and stop worrying so much about what I thought I wanted to make, and started making what felt most natural.

there's no easy way, and art can be a soul destroying path at times, truly. your software and hardware should come very last place compared to practicing from life (it doesn't matter if you want to paint cartoony stuff of realistic stuff, always start from life). naturally you will find what makes your heart sing the most.

I get a lot of messages from people telling me similar stuff "oh your art is EXACTLY what I want to do!" but I promise you that kind of thought process is chasing a dragon that is likely to harm or drag your creative process down. art style is such a deeply personal thing, so of COURSE it's important to find inspiration, but the second looking at someone else's artwork stops inspiring you and starts frustrating you, put it away.

There are some artists who I love, that I do not check up on often because their artwork ignites, like, serious bitter jealousy in me. It's the truth. I get so mad at myself for not being more like them, and it's such a poison. I think more artists should be transparent about this feeling because I KNOW the art community has a lot of jealousy and ugliness in it.

A fact of being an artist is that you will never be completely happy with a piece you make. You are always going to see the flaws, and that doesn't change whether you'd been drawing for 2 months or 20 years. Occasionally, you will get one piece that you are like "how did I make that???" and then get frustrated that you can't recreate it lol! It's a tough beast.

It's just really important to step back and work on yourself and where you are at, because at the end of the day, the way your soul wants to express artwork might be WILDLY different from what your brain wants, and it can be really detrimental to let those two go to war.

I hope this helps. I'm very passionate about this, and when I started out I ALWAYS ignored the artists who gave the same exact tips as above. I thought they were so annoying and unhelpful, but now I /get it/.