#i got asked about. art movements or anything and i had to say no i know Absolutely nothing. i am an uncultured swine

[weenie-kun]

[polakina]

how they fuck you

red dead redemption headcanons #2

hc masterlist // masterlist

on my third playthrough of rdr2 and i cannot bring myself to play low honour. why do i put myself through this?

also this is ridiculously long, got a little carried away but i shall not apologise

rating: explicit

-

is always gentle with you at first

delicate touches, lingering kisses, gazing eyes at your every movement or ministration

"what do you want, mi amor? tell me"

loves to hear you beg for him, want him

it just turns him on even more

dirty talk through the ROOF

this man knows how to talk you through it

"fuck you feel amazing, hermosa. yeah, just like that, huh? anything for you"

will eat you out for days if he could

never really tried it before, even when he lived in Mexico, he never really gave it a go

but with you, he wanted to try everything. whatever you wanted, he was up for it

so when you first asked him, he was nervous as hell, but willing to try

he found out he loved it and does it every single fucking time he had you all to himself

buries himself between your thighs like a man starved, his arms wrapped tightly around your thighs to keep you still

his tongue worked fucking wonders on your pussy, knowing exactly where to focus his attention, loving how you always moaned a little softer when his tongue dipped inside your cunt

fucks you slow, savouring the moment when he can

loves to have you riding him. seeing you on top spurs something inside him

his hands grip your waist fiercely, guiding your hips to grind against him, pulling sweet, elicit moans from your throat

loves to cut your clothes from your body with his knife

it's so much more satisfying than just taking them off with his hands

kinda likes quickies. prefers taking his time but there's something about pulling you away for a few minutes to have his way with you behind the protection of a tree or something that he loves

usually happens out on missions, so there's risk of the gang seeing you guys, but what's life without a little risk?

you could be on watch beside your tent while everyone sleeps, and javier will come over to keep you company

but it doesn't take long for his hand to slip into your pants as he whispers all sorts of things in your ear as he sits behind you while you try and continue your watch duty

was terrible at aftercare before, never really understood the in's and out's of it

but learned eventually with you, when you explained it to him

now he's at your beck and call whenever you need it

wear this man's hat around camp and that's all he needs to pull you to a secluded tent

but wear it while you fuck him? arthur would die happy in that exact moment

likes to call you 'cowgirl' when you ride him. you always roll your eyes at how stupid it sounds, but it doesn't stop him

the two of you don't have all the time in the world. being one of dutch's most trusted members, he's needed away from camp a lot more than anyone else

so you've both learned the art of being fast

and it doesn't take long for him to make you cum

never asks for them, but loves blowjobs

he likes to draw in his tent when he's got time to himself, so when he sees you come in and sink to your knees in between his lap, he can't think of a better sight

the absolute king of praises (have you heard how he talks to his horse?? imagine him talking to a woman oml)

not a fan of degrading, he never saw the appeal, but uses other methods to 'punish' you

"what do you want, darlin?" he'd say as he's fucking you from behind, your face pressed into the pillow to stifle your moans, your ass in the air held up by his hands on your hips. "oh babygirl, you wanna cum, huh? then you can beg me for it, can't you?"

will edge you for days

especially when he knows he's going to be away for a few days afterwards

definitely grabs the headboard

mainly for his own stability to be able to thrust into you harder as you moan his name into the room

has his hands on you at all times

holding your hands above your head by your wrists, holding your face against the mattress with his hand on the back of your neck, curling his fingers in your hair and gently yanking your head back when he pounds into you

when you do get a night away from camp, he wants to make it last the whole night

takes his time with you to the point where he's practically teasing you for hours

takes his time undressing you, kissing every part of your body, touching every part of you until his fingerprints were practically imprinted into your skin

give this man some guidance or it's like walking through a maze blindfolded

learned a lot with you

figured out really quick what you liked and what you didn't like, what places he could touch you that would send your head spinning

this eventually led him to learn how to be very sneaky in public

he could touch you in such simple places, in such an innocent way that no one else would think anything of it

but you'd know, and you wouldn't stop it

you like the way he touched your neck? he was all over that shit, cupping your cheek, his fingers tickling your neck

you liked his hands in your hair? his fingers tangled at the base of your neck, pulling your hair slightly to tease you

his hand would rest on your thighs, fingers slowly creeping up your thigh while you were all sat around the campfire

you'd always give him a little glare, which he would ignore, a goofy smirk on his face

and the way he fucked you was no different

he had mastered the art of teasing your body and your limits, and put that knowledge in every time he had you alone

"come on, marston. stop teasin' me like this"

he'd always smirk, working his way down your body in a painfully slowly manner

"i'm takin' my time with you, sweetheart. you just lay back and relax. lemme take care of you"

loved to make you feel good before he even thought about himself

but when he was too pent up, he came a lot quicker than he wanted

but he made up for it when tending to you afterwards until you were practically pushing him away, too sensitive for his expert fingers

not the best at going down on you, but makes up with experience

but what he's really good with is his hands

his fingers

they know exactly what they're doing when he pushes them inside your soaked pussy

curling at that devastating spot inside you that makes you crumble to your knees

loves to be on top of you, seeing your face contort when he pushes inside you slowly, deeply

he's basic, a lover of missionary, but seeing your face and watching your body writhe under his grip is really what turns him on

[seonghwaddict]

say my name — song mingi

request by anon. "This is my first request to anyone ever so forgive me if this is..idk incoherent 😭. But lately I've been thinking about a short smut story where the reader (fem) being a backup dancer for ATEEZ and Mingi catching feelings for her over time and then end up fucking in the dressing room and maybe one of the members walks in idk have fun with it. 🤭"

idol!song mingi x backup dancer!reader. genre. smut. warnings. smut below the cut, explicit sexual content minors dni, fingering, some dirty talk, use of petnames (doll, baby), slight dom/sub dynamics, dom!mingi, swearing, intentional lowercase. please let me know if i missed anything. wc. 1.2k.

lilo's notes. i'm back!! this is the first request i've received, hopefully i did it justice. by the time i finished writing i forgot that anonie asked it it's possible for another member to walk in and join.... sorry about that. but anyways, i hope you all enjoyed this!!

listening to. perceive by doma cyno.

masterlist

“fuck, baby,” a hand swiped through your folds, gathering the almost embarrassing amount of arousal from your core. “you’re so wet.”

you like to think your day started off like every other day. you woke up at 7 am, ate breakfast, got ready for the day and arrived at kq two hours later. you went through some choreographies with the other backup dancers until 4 pm, left to run some errands, and then returned to practice some more on your own.

since your first day at the company only a few months ago, you’d always take a few hours after your shift to perfect your art more than you already have. sometimes you’d spend those hours with the other dancers who showed up for the same reason, but surprisingly, a lot of the time it was mingi who found himself practising his group’s or his own choreography alongside you.

the first few times felt awkward, to say the least.

you yourself weren’t really one to strike up conversations with random people, and considering he was part of the group you had to dance for, you were afraid of slipping up and losing your job. but, eventually, he talked to you. after that, things were easier—you’d joke around, take breaks to go eat something, help each other and sometimes even stop what you were working on to choreograph something together; just the two of you.

it was only a month or two later that you caught yourself looking at him in a less than friendly but rather heated way… and much to your surprise, you slowly started noticing his own lustful glances—lips red from biting them and hooded eyes tracking your every movement. but, alas, you weren’t one for first moves.

considering all of this, you weren’t surprised at the position you were currently in; on the floor of the practice room, legs hooked around his as you sat between them, mingi’s lips against the side of your neck, one arm around your waist and the other with his hand inside your panties (your shorts had been discarded long ago, along with his shirt) as he faced you to lthe mirror, forcing you to watch his every movement.

he swiped his middle finger through your folds, gathering some arousal and then slowly circling your swollen clit. a breathy whimper escaped your lips as you threw your head back on his shoulder. the combined sensation of his finger around your nub and his lips kissing and sucking on the sensitive skin of your neck sent another wave of wetness gushing out of you.

“eyes on the mirror, doll,” he moved his head up to whisper right into your ear with that husky voice of his, gently biting down on your earlobe. he removed his hand from your pussy for a moment, letting your legs down to slip your panties off before hooking them over his thighs again. you were practically dripping as he exposed you. “i want you to see what i’m doing, watch how your beautiful little body reacts to me.”

reluctantly, you nodded and pulled yourself off his shoulder, eyes zeroing in on the arousal smeared between your thighs. a moan escaped your lips as he gave your clit a particularly firm tug, his ring and middle finger pressed against the skin on either side of it and pinching gently. you tried holding back your following moans, but the quiver of your thighs gave you away. though, you felt better knowing you weren’t the only enjoying this so much, his erection strained against his pants and poked at your ass. 

his movements against your heat were slow but precise, eliciting pretty little whimpers and moans from you. the hand wrapped around the front of your waist moved up, featherlight touches leaving a trail of goosebumps behind as he gently brushes his fingers over the fabric of your bra. then he nudge the straps down your shoulder and let the bra cups fall, his hand immediately going to tweak at your nipples. 

“f-fuck…” you cursed quietly, trying your best to stop your eyes from fluttering shirt from all the pleasure and keep your eyes on the mirror as he asked.

two of his large fingers circled your entrance, massaging it before slowly pushing in. jaw slack at the stinging stretch, you watched as they disappeared into your vagina, breath stuttering when he curved them just enough to brush against the right spot. your hand snaked it’s way behind his head, tugging on his hair gently.

“oh, look, doll,” you heard him groan behind you, feeling his smirk against your neck, “look at how well you take my fingers…”

and with that he slowly began pumping his fingers in and out of you, digits firmly pressing against the spongey spot inside you each time, increasing his speed more and more as his thumb continue circling your clit. he watched your face in the mirror, analysing each twitch of your muscles and each flutter of your lashes to perfectly adjust his movements. in any other context, you perhaps would’ve appreciated how perceptive he was. but right now you wanted nothing more than to savour the feeling of his fingers, anticipating how his cock would feel in you. 

before you knew it, the familiar knot of an orgasm began tightening in your abdomen, your body squirming.

“shit, mingi…” his name tumbled out of your mouth in a drawl and his movement stopped for a moment.l before he continued at a more rigorous pace. you could’ve sworn you felt his erection twitch behind you. 

“say that again,” he growled, “say my name.”

the rough scratch of his voice made you impossibly wetter as you obeyed quickly. “mingi, o-oh…”

after that it didn’t take much longer for you to snap, coming down hard on his fingers, muscles jerking and back arching as his hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your noises.

“keep it down, baby, someone might walk in and see you at my mercy.”

he pulled his fingers out of you and caressed your thighs. it didn’t take to long for you to calm down from your high, chest heaving with deep breaths as he whispered praises in your ear. despite the fact you just had an orgasm, you knew you still wanted more.

“i-i need… i need you,” you tried, face flushed as you hinted the best you could.

“hm?” he chuckled. “and what exactly do you need of me?”

with a huff, you grinded yourself back against him, against his cock, but he moved his hands to grip your hips firmly and stop you. 

“that won’t do,” he shook his head. “i want you to use your words, doll. can you do that for me, baby?”

a moment of silence passed between you. it was awkward or anything, a teasing grin on his face as he looked you in the eyes through the mirror, your brows furrowed before you sighed.

“god, mingi, i need your cock in me.”

he grinned, hands tugging your shirt and bra off before sitting back on his knees and turning you around. mingi leaned over you, cupping your chin before kissing you with a bruising hardness. once he broke the kiss, a malicious spark shined in his sharp eyes.

“anything for my doll.”

network. @cromernet

[tojifile]

Kibutsuji Muzan: Succubus Survival

Hush.. just one more..

Genre: Romance // Muzan x succubus!reader

⚠️: Heavy suggestive and sexual references, kinky reader, immoral, not fully consensual, DO NOT BIND THE CHARACTERS TO REAL LIFE MORALS THIS IS PURELY A WORK OF FICTION

A/N: I'm so frustrated rn, this is like the 3rd draft I've had because it would suddenly post and answer privately ??? It was so annoying, so now I'm editing this on a private post. I love the request so much and thank you for requesting it but I will not be writing anything until I get my new device, I hope there'd be less mishaps there.

REQ: @cursetopia

Each night, in the houses of young noblemen—loud cries echoed through the corners of their rooms. You loved seeing tears fall down their cheeks as pain turned into pleasure until they couldn't tell the difference.

"Good boy.. just one more and you'll be free." You whispered in his ear cunningly. You were on top of him, freely guiding his body as you moved yours. His yogi was messily hanging from his body while your kimono fought to stay on your shoulders.

You used your blood demon art: Pearls of Restraint, which stuck to their name. They restrained his movement and ability to speak as you moved your hips in a quick and steady pace, chasing your own high as you ignored his pleas.

After a while you finally got more than a taste of your release. He immediately passed out from exhaustion. You fixed his yogi gently and put the covers over his body.

You stood up and fixed your kimono. You stood near the headrest and hovered your hand over his head, you made a motion, as if you were tugging on air. You pulled out a pearl from his head.

The pearl held his memories, you took the pearl and added it to your necklace—he was just one of the many men you've seduced into a soul-sucking night, literally.

You left his room through the window. You hid in the night sky, running swiftly yet quietly through the roofs to avoid getting caught. You ran to your room, in the most exclusive house in all of the entertainment district.

You disguised yourself as an oiran by day to avoid suspicion and to keep living amongst the male noblemen of Japan living in Kyoto, who—in your opinion looked better than the others.

Once you reached your room you were met with a calm glare, given by Muzan. "Darling~ you're finally back, come here." He spoke with calmly with a faint smile on his face as he patted his lap, insinuating that you should sit on him which you happily obliged to.

He stroked your hair gently, propping his chin on the top of your head as he held you tightly with his unoccupied hand as you sat on his lap. "Now then, let me ask you a question darling." He spoke, you hummed in response to let him know you were listening.

"What exactly do you want to achieve with sleeping with different men each night?" He asked, you took a moment to think of an answer but then realized he could read your mind so might as well just say what comes to mind.

You held your face as you kept an innocent smile on your face, "Survival, their souls and energy, if you're asking for practicality, my lord. Although if you meant to ask about my sexual desires, I love to see their reactions, it's quite.. adorable." You spoke happily as you looked up at him. It seemed like even the thought of their reactions turned you on.

Muzan found your answer amusing, he chuckled and continued to stroke your hair gently. "Adorable.." he whispered as he softly kissed the top of your head.

"Won't you be a good girl and show your lord this 'energy' you speak so highly of?" He spoke suggestively, he put you down in between his legs, "Go on my dear, I'm sure you have enough energy now." He held your cheek as he spoke, leaning down to you, offering you a soft kiss.

Spontaneous post: 07/09/23 23:34PM GMT+8 Philippine Standard Time

[hypermania]

transcript of the full thread:

"A very long thread: To the League fans, We found out this news along with you on Friday. I see the pain and anger and worry out there, which for the LGBTQIA+ fans of the show is of course compounded by what’s happening across the country right now. #ALeagueOfTheirOwn

So the first and most important thing to say is: Before anything, before you fight for the show or each other, please take care of yourselves. Reach out to your community and ask for help if you need it. You aren’t alone. Please be kind to yourselves.

As I’ve been thinking about what’s happened, I come back to a quote from Penny Marshall’s film: “The hard is what makes it great.” Making this show is so hard and so great. There’s quite a bit to say about what’s been hard, but at this point that’s in the past.

Of course, if we have an avenue to do it well, we will continue the show, and I love seeing the noise you’re making in support of that. The noise matters!

And it’s hard for me to imagine there wouldn’t be a home for a show that thanks to you was in the Nielsen Top 10 for three weeks, was the top show on Amazon for a month and in the top five for six, that was recognized by critics as something special, that’s been recognized…

…with awards from GLAAD, HRC and a million other organizations, that was on a million year-end top ten lists, and that has a built in and deeply passionate audience.

Amazon is pursuing different kinds of programming, but to the rest of the world this show is a hit and has huge value and even greater potential. But first things first, we have to win this strike and get a fair deal before we can explore what comes next.

But for a moment, I want to talk about what happens if the world didn’t quite change quickly enough for you to have all the seasons of this show that we want to give you.

If we don’t find a good path forward, I will still know that League did what it came here to do and, in its own small way, changed the world.

And that’s because of all of you, and the light you continue to shine on the show — How you let it matter to you, how you let it become a mirror, how you let it change you.

I’ve never experienced a response to a show that’s as deep, personal, creative and meaningful as what the fans have done with League. When we were making the season 1, we all wondered and worried about whether people would accept it on its own terms next to the film.

They have, and you did that, and so much more. You lit up the internet on your first watch throughs of the show, when you realized where it was going (and made all of us laugh in the process).

You wrote enough fan fiction for 100 novels and created an outpouring of art and creativity that could fill its own museum — I’ve truly never seen anything like it.

You lifted up a 95 year old who had just come out of the closet and made her into a celebrity who gets recognized wherever she goes. Every time any member of the cast appears at anything, you turn it into a convention.

You stop Abbi wherever she goes, and though I’m a happily inconspicuous person, and you constantly find me and stop me and give me gifts that now have a shelf in my house.

When thousands of you appeared to see D’Arcy at the stage door of The Thanksgiving Play over its run, you turned it into the hottest queer bar in New York. You made Max’s suit and Chante’s beautiful performance into a movement.

A mob of you went to Pittsburgh and saw all of our locations. You dressed as the characters and made our characters into one of the biggest halloween costumes of last year.

You came out, you changed pronouns, you started living more openly, you gave sermons in church about the show, you opened bars, and you got a truly mind boggling number of tattoos that say “to the five” and “rob the bank.” What else am I forgetting? I'm sure you'll remind me.

But most importantly, you made a community, you found each other and found joy, which of course is what the show is about. In many more ways than I would ever have let myself imagine while we were making it, you literally bring the show to life every day.

Thank you for making our work mean something bigger. We’ve heard from so many different kinds of people around the world who are watching League.

But, in a time when all queer people are personally and politically under attack across the country and HRC has declared a “state of emergency,” my biggest fear is that the many queer fans of League will take this reversal as one more invalidation, one more blow, one more…

…effect of the general politicization of our identities. Most of us grew up feeling invisible, and as we gain strength, the predictable backlash forces are trying their hardest to get us to go back underground.

In case anyone needs to hear it: You are not small, niche, modest, off-putting or marginal, and neither are your stories. You are multitudes, you are building, and your stories are universal. You are the most rapidly growing audience and consumer group in this country.

You are powerful. You are the future, and the people who don’t recognize your importance now will feel be clamoring to catch up in a few years. As Chante said so beautifully when we received the Human Right Campaign Visionary award, you are the main characters. Be proud.

Be angry if you that’s how you feel, but know that we are going to win, and don’t ever let this moment or any other make you small. The biggest lesson of the characters in this show is that, in a world that had no space for them at all, they LIVED. (Continued)

They found love, they did the things they loved, they won. You’re doing the same thing, and just like them, you are heroes. We are still fighting for League. But whether we win or lose this one, I’m so proud.

From the time when we began working on the season, Abbi, Deta and I said to each other — Let’s not hold anything back, for as long as we get to be here, let’s do this the right way.

We got so many notes wondering if the exploration of the queer world of the 1940s or Max’s world would be better saved for season 2, if people needed to start somewhere a little more familiar. I’m so glad we didn’t listen, cause now I’m sitting here without any regrets.

And no matter what happens, the people behind League aren’t going anywhere. Give us a minute, we will be back with more for you to watch and read and feel. We’re going to win.

And you’re not going anywhere either, because what you’ve built and what you are is bigger than this show. It’s the story of our community, that comes to us through the hidden history that League shows just one small part of: The bars got raided and shut down.

But the people didn’t go anywhere, and they opened a new bar, and out of those spaces came music, cinema, dance, culture — What we now see as mainstream was birthed from the spaces our predecessors were forced to hide in. They made joy there."

[scoutsbabygirl]

I would like to see headcanons from you about how your favorite mercenaries realize that they fall in love with the reader :333

🎷🐛

my first request! hi my little meow meow! i wrote for all the mercs bc why not?! fluff below the cut! also written in headcannon form! idk how to write for soldier (i just don't see the appeal)

scout:

-why did ms. pauling have to be lesbian???

-when you came along he was immediately drawn to you, maybe it was because you were new and young

-he's way too cocky around you and acts like he doesn't care about you

-after a stern talking to by spy, jeremy decides to ask you out

-other than sports, jeremy loves to paint and draw and is surprisingly good at it. he asks you to make some art with him and of course he draws you

-this melts your heart and you've fallen for him. he's just waiting for the right time to confess and ask you to be his

soldier:

-man has zhanna

pyro:

-hearing you say "you're all good! no worries!" after he lights the hem of you shirt, almost burning you alive. he feels a spark...literally

-pyro slinks around you where ever you may be. in the kitchen baking? pyros throwing flour all over the kitchen. working out? pyros cheering you on. got some spare time? pyros got some crayons, colored pencils and a bunch of coloring books

-spending time with a masked man that the team fears has him drawn to you. the mercs warned you about him, you never felt intimated by pyro yet understood yet you could understand why he was treated differently

-if you're ever sad he will give you the best comfort. he's never shown himself to the mercs but once he sees you cry the mask is coming off and expect kisses to be planted over you

-its a very intimate moment and he just admits it then. he's never had anyone love him back, he's always been depicted as a monster.

heavy:

- won't approach you first. he waits for you to make a move. he knows his size is intimidating in itself and doesn't want to scare you away.

-he's a gentle giant. he's very careful with his words and movements. he's so paranoid that you'll view him as something he's not on the inside.

- one night you cooked with him and he told you all about his life back home, showed you photos of his sisters and taught you basic russian (assuming you don't know any already)

-if you speak russian he'll be over the moon or if you use the simple russian he's taught you he loves you just a little bit more. he adores your accent when you stumble over certain pronunciation. he knows you're the one for him

-when he decides to confess he handwrites you a long poem with an russian to english translation on two separate pages. after he signs his name he writes that he won't bring this up unless you do

-please don't break his heart. he's so sensitive

demo:

- when he confesses he's drunk as fuck. he doesn't even remember when you bring it up the next day.

-is so embarrassed. he's hungover and groggy. he plays it off by acting defensive. "i was just drunk! i meant nothing by it!"

-in the inside he's freaking out. he wanted to plan it out. it's only been 7 or 8 months since you've been at teufort but he fell so quick for you.

-3am outside pointing at the constellations, telling you about old celtic, scottish myths and folklore, shit talking the other mercs, and an accidental kiss on the lips he caught feeling for you right then and there.

- he's willing to give up scrumpy just to have you reciprocate the same feelings for him. 🤞

engineer:

-lord, he used so many pet names with you; "check this out, sweet pea", "you look beautiful, darling", "i made pancakes, you want any hon?"

-he knows his voice with a combination of his pet names do something to you. he loves when you call him those names back!

-compliment his cooking! bbq is his specialty! he'll gladly eat up anything you make. hungry boi :3

-he loves when you spend time with him in his workshop, working on his little metal trinkets warms his soul. he tries to teach you about the intricate parts of engineering. it's okay if you don't understand, he's more than willing to break it down for you and teach you a bite-sized version quantum mechanics

-friday night. a few beers in. a lot of work finished. "(y/n), i know i'm a bit older and dusty at the whole romance thing but" he pauses "you ain't seeing anyone right now, are you?"

medic:

-he either falls in love with you the second he lays his eyes on you or it takes many, many months for him to catch feelings for you. regardless, of how long the process takes his love for you becomes an obsession.

-you begin lingering around his office, inquiring about his tools and weapons. he finds it very interesting that you're not startled by him and his... unethical ways of "doctor assisted suicide"

-internal battles with his conscience. does he want to rip your organs out and shove them in the wrong places? he wants to slice your arteries one by one. yes, he wants to cut your jugular and see how much you bleed before dying. alas, he won't. you're too beautiful to be cut up into pieces. he doesn't want you to die by his hands, he doesn't know what he would do with himself.

-"guten morgen, wie gehts?!" has him weak. just a simple phrase you've rehearsed a few times. you though he would appreciate you taking time out of your day to learn his native tongue. he thinks this is your way of flirting with it (and perhaps it is).

-occasionally he'll call you into his office, not for a checkup by any means but rather just to chat (on company time). he removes the gloves and runs his hands over the scars on your face and neck. "schätzelein, i have been feeling some way for a while."

sniper:

-he is such a cunt. he's so rude and bitchy to you. his attitude causes you to avoid contact with mick at all costs and he avoids you like the plague. he spends a lot of time in his van anyways so staying away from you isn't too hard.

-seeing you hurt breaks his heart. he decides to visit you in medbay after your broke your arm. the baboo uterus experiment procedure wasn't finished by the time you got hurt. you notice how out of character it is but appreciate it regardless. he brings you a little necklace made with animal teeth (him making jewerly with animal bones is the most canon-noncanon headcanon.)

-after you get a cast you ask him to sign it. next to his name he writes a little heart. then scribbles it out. and draws a skull underneath it.

-butterflies in his stomach when he lays eyes on you. he hates that he's gotten feelings for you. you're his teammate, not his partner. not yet atleast. no? why is he thinking like this.

-it's obvious that mick is touch starved of attention, he want to be validated and appreciated. he's also getting shit from his teammates so when you begin to stand up for him and complimenting him he looses his mind.

"scout, you're being mean. no wonder you have no dad, i would leave too. " "he's not ugly at all. you're old and its evident enough in those wrinkles of yours."

-oh god. who knew a petite little thing like you could spit venom. he wants to tell you how he feels so badly but he doesn't want to loose you as a friend.

spy:

-he'll flirt with you before even developing feelings for you. always trying to court you, inviting you over at late hours. he just wants to get laid tbh.

-you're playing hard to get. it excites him a bit but he's much older now so if anything he's annoyed that you won't sleep with him. he tries being more romantic and pushes idea the idea of getting with you sexually and takes a different approach.

-smoking on his red velvet couch until the sun begins to rise, sharing cigs together. he has a small stash of weed (he stole it from scout) but coughs when he smokes it, earning a plethora of giggles from you. now he's smiling and laughing with you despite his lungs being filled with smoke.

-stacks of guy de maupassant on his table near the red couch, he reads the love poems to you and translates it to you. please snuggle up into his chest and try to read the french words yourself. your pronunciation is horrible and your accent is awful. you sound so cute yet so pathetic at the same time.

-he tries to keep his feelings hidden for as long as he can. of course, it slips out. he's stopped wearing the balaclava when around you (and only you, even his own son doesn't know what he truly looks like) so the bright red blush is evident on his face. he tries taking back what he said but there's no use as your already face first into his chest.

[for-a-longlongtime]

V. Sometime Around Midnight

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Marcus Pike

Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI Words: 839 A/N: This one took a while to figure out, so I appreciate y'all hanging in there - and all the love you've been spreading about this little series. For everybody who voted to see Marcus x Tim in this chapter (the poll currently is a tie!): don't worry, Tim will be here next time! This is unbeta-ed, dividers by @saradika.

< Previous Part

“Tell me about him.” Frankie bites into his taco, narrowly avoiding the spill of the salsa that drops dangerously close past his shirt. It’s 1 am, and at this point he can’t even recall how long it had been since he’d met up with Marcus at the air force base that morning. Exhaustion sits heavy in his bones as fragments of the day flit through his mind.

Their messes in that helicopter, quickly cleaned up with his hoodie. Driving silently to his apartment with a quick stop at Walgreens for condoms, lube and refreshments. All of that falling to the floor when he backed Marcus up against the front door, so eager to kiss him again - and for a brief, mad moment actually considering to fuck him right there. 

The slippery trail from the shower to his bed, sheets immediately damp from their wet bodies because finally - finally - he got to map all of Marcus’ body with his mouth, fingers, tongue, teeth. Hear the whimpering turn to moaning, begging, urging, until Marcus cried out his name eventually when he came. Not far behind, Frankie had tried to keep it down - trying to prevent a noise complaint from the neighbors -, which he only managed with his face buried against Marcus’ shoulder, coming harder than he’d had in months.

There had been cold drinks to share on the balcony, some snacks he found around the apartment, and the view of Marcus dressed in a pair of Frankie’s boxers - which turned out to be a lot more distracting than Frankie had expected it to be. Marcus hadn’t just been easy to chat to; he was fun to be around. Enthusiastic and animated, whether it was about food or art or travel; he easily talked about all kinds of things without it being too much chatter. 

Perhaps what Frankie liked most of all was that Marcus didn’t try to fill any silences. He didn’t seem to mind that Frankie was introverted, didn’t try to push anything, and didn’t ask invasive questions about the time Frankie had served, leaving it up to him to offer whatever information he wanted. That was something Frankie wasn’t quite used to. He wasn’t used to spending this much time around new people without feeling the urge to withdraw, to call it a day and unwind with some quiet time. Instead he found himself here, well after midnight, next to a food truck with tacos and beers. Asking about the one subject that hadn’t quite come up yet. 

Marcus swallows a bite of his food. “Tim? What do you want to know?” 

Frankie shrugs, tugging at the damp label on the beer bottle with his nail. “You mentioned you’ve been seeing each other for about a year and a half,” he says eventually, not quite sure what it is he wants to know about Tim. “You guys serious, or casual, or…”

“Or?”

Frankie laughs softly, shaking his head. He didn’t expect that to get turned on him; most people would’ve just filled in the blank with their own answer. “Or something else. You tell me.”

“If you’re wondering why else we’re fucking other people…”

“No,” he says after a moment as he leans back in his chair, not missing how Marcus’ eyes track the movement, lingering on his biceps for a long moment. “If so, I would’ve asked that.” 

“Yeah. You would’ve.” A smile plays over Marcus’ face as he nods. “Tim and I are serious, yes. But when we decided on that, we wanted to be realistic and leave some room for options. Nothing wrong with being into people other than your partner.”

Frankie thinks about it for a moment. “Neither of you get jealous?”

“Can’t, really. If things get too complicated, it doesn’t work, so we’re just open about everything.” Marcus hesitates for a moment, then continues. “We don’t really see anyone more than three times tops. To avoid getting attached.” The last words are surprisingly softer than the others.

“Mmm. So you get to see me one more time.” Frankie is not going to be coy about it. Spending such a long day together, and having fucked four times meant there was no mistake about the mutual interest. That last time Frankie had woken up from an evening nap, with Marcus still asleep against him, cock hard and leaking on Frankie’s thigh. Instead of feeling self conscious about his own refractory period, Frankie had woken him with a slow, lazy blowjob and then took his time to make Marcus fall apart under his hands one more time. “That’s how it works for you.”

“If you want to-...”

“Shut up, you know the answer.” Frankie laughs as he grabs Marcus by his shirt, tugging him over for a deep kiss. Lips tasting sweet from the pork and pineapple salsa, a hint of beer still. “You know I like you.”

Three more weeks. He’s stationed here in LA for three more weeks, with only one more opportunity to see Marcus.

That’s gonna become a problem.

Main masterlist | < Previous part Follow @longlongtime-updates for fic updates!

[naturecalls111]

I wrote this on twitter but I thought I'd put it here too, since I occasionally get asks on how I draw/any tips I might have. On twitter I also made the caveat that I don't feel I'm qualified to give anyone tips, LOL, but I was drawing today for an assignment and felt like this is worth noting to any beginner artists who have a tendency of clinging onto sketches that they feel like they finally got right! (A.K.A, a habit I still have years later HA!) This isn't so much of a tutorial as expressing my thought process in this discovery of how to draw more dynamic pieces. I found it to be satisfying on my end, seeing it unravel, so hopefully it can help someone who may be struggling with the same thing I am.

MAKING MORE DYNAMIC PIECES, A PERSONAL STUDY!:

I wasn't upset by this drawing, but I could tell there was something stagnant about it so I ended up pushing it and redrawing it a million times to see if I could somehow make it look more dynamic.

Here's one part of the timelapse - I'm clearly adamant on trying to make this pose/composition work but while the sketch itself may look better, the stagnation hasn't changed. Perhaps this works for some people, but anyone seeking a dynamic visual will be able to spot that this simply isn't working as anything more than a semi-decent anatomy study attempting to be applied.

I changed the position of both arms, I tried to play around with the angle of the head, I tried to just the hips forward more so that the spine had increased curvature, but the main issue, really, was that the initial composition lacked the dynamism in general. It prioritised dramaticism over dynamism. Both can exist in the same piece - it did not, in this one.

This was the new sketch I started with. Less rigid base to go off of. Just getting down the general shape I wanted to score - make the spine and tail take a sort of mid-whip path, shoulders hunched, hips cant forwards, as if he's curling in on himself. I think for a dynamic piece, it's more helpful that your initial sketch uses the body as a general marker as opposed to something to do lineart over (granted, I don't really do lineart anyway, my sketch is usually the extent of my "lineart", but since this is just looking at creating a more dynamic composition, I think it still applies!)

Here it's the same principle. For the left image (the legs) I've established where the knee of the right leg goes, and where the hip that precedes the left leg will sit. These are just base anatomical structures that help me figure out 1. Whether or not the mere idea of this composition will work, and 2. where I have to stop once I start drawing. For me, having some sort of limitation for the body helps me stay within range of proportionate anatomy (not that I particularly care for the anatomy to be realistic, just proportionate to the style I'm drawing in)

On the right image is also the same principle. Establishing the movement of the arm, the elbow/arm bend, and the hand. (If you see the full sketch before the two above, I established the hand in that one too - it really is helpful figuring out the placement of the hand ahead of time.) If it looks atrocious afterwards I always have the lasso tool/eraser to save me.

The new attempt brings me to this. While preference in art is subjective, I do think I'd be staying in SOME realm of objectivity when I say this is more dynamic than my initial sketch, LOL. Of course, lighting/rendering choices help push the composition a little more, but this achieves what I couldn't do with that first sketch. I had a general idea, but it's important to know when to let go of something that clearly isn't working.

Would love for anyone to add their own tips or ideas to this post - I'm not particularly known for dynamic pieces so I'm always looking to learn. This was a really valuable study for me so I wanted to share it, but everyone has their own method and what works for me may not work for the next person!

There's a few other asks that asked me for tips on general anatomy, and more specifically legs (oh dear god, I'M going to need to study for that before writing out any sort of resource guide for that, lol) that I hope to get around to doing in the near future. Thank you for your guys' vote of confidence, haha! ❤️

[am-i-interrupting]

For the Camera | Vox x OATSH Reader

No prior knowledge of the series required, other than reader is mixed.

Summary: You finally relented and agreed to film as a guest star in a show for your tv host friend. You end up having more fun than anticipated.

Warnings: implied racism, could be read as self image issues also

You knew you were being followed. It’s not like he was being subtle. He was basically running to catch up with you but you’d had your fair share of times where you had to move fast in heels as well as a head start.

You almost couldn’t believe the audacity but was it really do out of line for him? Maybe you just had problems with control. Okay, you knew you did but still! You’d known each other for over a year and a half now. He should know that too. Yet still, he pestered.

He kept pushing even when you shoved back. It didn’t make any sense. You could get most men to leave any subject be with a few well timed movements and words. Why was this one so hard? Why wouldn’t he just drop it?

“You do community theater!” he said as he finally caught up with you. “What’s the difference?”

“If I mess up in a community theater it’s their word against mine. If I mess up in front of a room of qualified actors and directors and set crew, not only am I getting ridiculed on a professional level but also they have proof,” you told him.

“You’ve been live on television before, what makes this different?” he asked. “I’ve messed up plenty and my reputation is still in tact.”

“But look at you,” you said with a gesture to him. “No one cares when someone like you messes up.”

“What are you,” his voice trailed off.

“It’s different, writing a book. No one has to see me when I write a book. The only reason people even know what I look like is because is because I went on your show one time and it wasn’t an art form. It was just an interview. People didn’t come to be entertained. They came to get information. A lot of people in the world don’t like looking at people like me.”

His brow furrowed as did his lips. He looked at you, softly shaking his head.

“Forget it,” you said. “I don’t even know why I’d try to explain. It’s not like you’d understand. You don’t have to put on this act but every single day I have to get up and put on a voice that isn’t mine and clothes that frankly, I don’t like and be so conscious of how I do everything just do people will have just a little bit of respect for me. Still, most of the time it’s in vain because a lot of people will still disrespect me based purely on the fact that I’m a woman. How could you understand that?”

You met his eyes for a moment but you couldn’t bare the look of confusion and pity on his face. You brushed past him and began walking away.

You’d barely gotten two yards away from him before he called out to you, “You’re right! I don’t understand what that’s like but you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and I like looking at you. Just think about it, please.”

You bit down on your lip as you felt it begin to tremble and cursed yourself as your eyes became watery. You didn’t say anything in reply, simply kept walking.

“Are you okay?” he asked beside you as you looked at the bustling set, having just come out of the dressing room. You didn’t answer, just twisted the sleeve of your dress. His hands clasped yours. “You’re going to do great.”

You looked up at him. “I’m not sure,” you said, your voice barely a whisper.

“I am.”

“Everyone in set!” the director called out.

He squeezed your hand. “You’ve got this and I’ll be right beside you the entire time.”

“I’ll track you down and kill ya if you aren’t,” you said, a bit of your southern accent slipping through before you quickly fixed it. He laughed but you didn’t find anything funny.

Then the filming process started. For the most part things went alright. Starting at the introductory scene was for the best as your nerves could come off as a character choice instead of genuine discomfort.

Of course there were some fumbles.

“Oh, you’re following me!” you said as the camera moved with you. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

You heard the man who’d brought you here try and fail to hold back a laugh. You whipped around towards him. “Don’t you laugh at me, mister. You know the only film experience I’ve had was on your show,” you said as you moved back to your original place beside him. He simply looked at you with a smile. “Shut up.”

He held his hands up. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

For some reason, despite him telling you directly he messed up all the time, you didn’t expect him to.

You were both sitting in the couch, supposed to have a heart to heart between your characters.

“I don’t think your sister likes me,” you said.

He scooted closer to you. He shook his head as he brought his hand up to brush hair behind your ear. “If only I could remember the line and then we could play this scene so beautifully.”

The next day of filming went fairly similar as did the rest of the week. That was until the last day.

You were filming the final scene, a goodbye scene.

“I hate to say goodbye so soon,” you said. “It feels like I just got here.”

“It won’t be long before we can see each other again, dear, I promise,” he said. “The holidays are coming up soon.”

“Soon? If in nearly three months is soon to you then yes, I do suppose they are soon,” you said, letting sarcasm roll off your tongue.

“Then I suppose you don’t want an early gift?” he asked, looking at the train behind you, the station being bought out several hours to film.

“You’ve got a gift for me already?”

He looked down at you with a sly smile. Then he quickly slipped his hand around your waist and to the small of your back to pull you closer to him. He cupped your jaw with his hand as he drew you in for a kiss.

Vaguely you heard the director yelling well, directions for what to do. You weren’t entirely sure if you were following them and you didn’t exactly care.

As soon as his lips met yours, the entire world faded to black. The only thing in color was him. His hands on your back and your face. His body pressed against yours. The feeling of his shoulder underneath your arm. His hair, silky smooth underneath the layer stiff with gel. The hat that brushed against your hand and then fell in the floor as you ran your fingers through it.

He pulled away and you followed him.

You let your eyes remain closed for a moment as you found yourself already reminiscing. You dropped yourself down to the flats of your feet. You met his gaze which seemed just as hazed as your own.

Finding yourself once again in reality, where he’d just kissed you in front of a room of strangers (to you at least). “You cad,” you said breathlessly. His smile didn’t help you gain anymore oxygen

“Kissed her good, didn’t he?” a crew member said not knowing he was in earshot of you as you grabbed your things to leave.

“Ah, nothing special. It’s just television.”

You felt your heart tighten at the reminder. Quickly you grabbed your things and left, not hearing the first man say, “Looked special to me.”

[guardkeywolf]

Cod boys seeing their artist male readers art when they get back from a mission and they are just relaxing and they decided to ask him to see his art book since they never saw it and male reader says yes and they look through it and Is shocked how nale reader makes things so realistic.

It's... Beautiful Y/n...

Hello @gamersansblog ! I am SO SO SORRY this took so long!

I hope you enjoy it!

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If there was anything that was needed after a tense mission, it was relaxation. When the boys got back from dealing with another terrorist, Laswell gave them so well needed time off and they used every second of it. Not only that, but a good friend of theirs also swing by as well.

Y/n was seen quite frequently at the 141's base, so just about everyone knew him.

Y/n was an artist who liked to sketch around their base sometimes.

The man loved making realistic drawings of them if he had the chance. Usually after 141 returned from their missions the man would be waiting there, doodling in his sketchbook. The others were quite interested to see it the first time they caught on to him being around and Y/n was more than happy to show them.

Inside, there were multiple pictures. Different mediums used, charcoal, pastel, water color, even some good ole' oil paintings. The man was very deserve in his style so he usually had a different instrument when he swung by.

Today, Y/n said he wanted to draw Price, the others a tad bit jealous that their Captain got the lucky honor of being Y/n's model but went with it nonetheless.

While Price finished the last of the paperwork he had, Y/n sat there on his couch sketching away with his graphite pencils he brought today. Though most would find the sound annoying, Price found it comforting as he heard Y/n's pencil rub against the multi-media paper. He could hear the difference between each stroke. Light and Hard.

He couldn't help but chuckle when he also looked up to see the others watching the man from behind as the man drew their Captain.

"Don't you boys have 'ork to do?" He hummed as he went back to doing his own.

"I don't mind them, Captain. After all, they were curious to see just how I manage to make it so realistic," Y/n chuckled to himself.

Price looked up and saw Ghost staring in awe at the paper, eyes widened at the probably nearly finished masterpiece. Gaz and Soap did the same as they watched over Y/n's shoulder, taking in each movement the man made as he worked.

It must have at least an hour that passed or so before the Captain heard Y/n's sketching come to a stop when hearing the "oos' and "aahs" of his men.

"Jesus Y/n, tha's amazing..." Soap said as he gazed at the photo.

"Agreed Johnny..." Ghost complimented as well baffled by the amount of detail that went into the sketch.

"Captain...you gotta' come see this, sir...it's.. it looks just like you," Gaz spoke as he looked upon the breathtaking piece.

"Guys please, your over exaggerating..." Y/n smiled up at them before walking over to the man.

Y/n turned the sketchbook towards the man slowly, smiling as he watched the man's eyes light up.

Price looked up to him, eyes full of curiosity making the artist chuckle again.

"That's...that's bloody beautiful Y/n... think I may frame it in 'ere."

"Thank you..." and he meant it.

"No problem, Captain..."

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-Guards

[clownd1ck]

sex is an art (so let me paint you) | f. castle

frank castle x fem!reader

the part two of ‘shut me up’ that no asked for but pls i needed to write this so bad i was going to shit myself if i didn’t write this

summary: two weeks ago, frank castle kissed you. two weeks ago, frank castle made you feel special. two weeks ago was the last time you saw frank castle, now you’re being dragged out of a club by him in a jealous rage.

warnings: SMUTT (18+ pls), oral (fem!receiving), fingering (fem!receiving), FRANK LOVES THIGHS, thigh spanking (yeah i did that), overstimulation, p in the v, choking, reader sucks frank’s fingers HAHA, frank being cocky, praise kink, begging, hickeys, bruises, biting, did someone say pet names?, nipple play, tummy bulging, daddy used like twice (i had to 😔), spitting, hair pulling, age gap (reader is 23, frank is 37), frank castle the aftercare king, did i miss anything other than my dignity?

clubbing was never your thing. flashing lights, loud music, too many people in a room would have your head spinning in overstimulation. most 23 year olds would be living out their best days in the club, gathering stories to tell to their friends the next day. that was never you, the only story that originated from clubbing was the night you met frank castle, and it was one you didn’t share to anyone. mainly because you couldn’t, but also because he was your dirty secret.

however, you find yourself in between these sweaty bodies, speakers blaring a familiar tune and an empty glass of what once held a vodka redbull in your hand. you were soon to abandon the empty glass at the bar, it was the only drink you had consumed the entire night because you never felt safe drinking outside of your own home. you weren’t drunk, but you were drunk on your own feelings of sorrow and disappointment.

sharing a kiss with frank castle was something you’ve wanted since you met him. he was stoic and brooding, someone most people stayed away from but you found yourself entranced by him. he was soft with you, in his own little way. he let you ramble over silly things, watched your favourite movies with you and if he ever took a pitstop to a diner before coming to see you he always got you pancakes. frank listened to you, he thought of you, and it made you feel so appreciated.

so why he hadn’t returned to you for two weeks after a kiss he initiated had you feeling emotions you didn’t want to feel towards him.

you guessed that’s why you agreed to go out with some old friends to a local club. you wanted to forget everything, be like one of the girls you knew and have a one night stand that you could share and giggle about with your friends at brunch the next day.

wallowing in self pity was becoming boring. especially when there was a guy who had been making eye contact with you from across the room for the past twenty minutes, but you couldn’t blame him. the dress you wore was black, it was sheer and jesus christ, it was short. the heels you wore were platforms, adding a good four inches to your height. so much skin was showing, your legs, the skin under the sheer lace of the dress and if you were to bend over or lean forward, the curve of your ass would show to everyone in the room. but you were hot, you felt hot, and the man across the room agreed.

you find yourself walking over to the man. he’s decently good looking, but he’s not frank. you grab the man’s hand, walking backwards onto the dance floor as he smirks at you and you give him the most innocent eyes and soft smile you can muster.

the song has changed, it’s slow and sensual and the perfect song to grind your hips against the crotch of this unknown man. and so you do. you allow him to grab your hips to draw you in closer, to feel the hard on he’s got from your movements.

the feeling doesn’t last long.

there’s two new hands on your hips that are dragging you away from the unknown man, dragging you out the door of the club and into the dead of the night. you’re frustrated, sexually and just in general. you have a good feeling as to who dragged you away, and the thought of him doing this to you made you want to explode.

“why the fuck, frank?” you scream, turning around to face him, putting distance in between your bodies.

he ignores you, and it’s the first time he’s ever done that before and it aggravates you to no end. so you follow him, and he stops at a car you didn’t know he had but realised it probably wasn’t his in the first place.

“answer me, frank!”

“get in the car.” he opens to passenger seat, and you stare at him in disbelief.

“no.”

“get in the car.” he repeats.

“fuck off.”

“get in the fucking car.” he speaks in a tone you’ve never heard before. it’s not intimidating by any means, but it’s one that tells you you should listen and so you do.

you’re in the car, and frank gets in the driver’s seat and you know he’s going to drive you home and you’ll finish your screaming match there. it’s silent the entire ride, but for once, you don’t find yourself uncomfortable in it. in fact, you’re cherishing the silence now because you fear of the words that may be said the second you’re home.

and before you know it, you are.

“what the fuck was that, frank?” you exclaim as you step into your apartment, closing and locking the front door behind you once you’re both inside. “you can’t just drag me away like that.”

“he had his hands all over you.” he says gruffly, arms crossing over his chest. “what was i supposed to do?”

“what you were supposed to do was let him do it!”

he laughs at that, and the fact that he thinks it’s hilarious only fuels your anger. who was he to act like this? like you were his girlfriend, like you belonged to him? it feels like he’s laughing at you instead of the situation you’re both in. and it only fucks you up more.

“this is funny to you?”

“yeah, fucking hilarious.” he stalks over to you, hands cupping your face which forces your eyes to meet his. you hate eye contact, you despise it, but you could easily get lost in frank’s eyes. “fucking hilarious you think i’m gonna allow another man to put his hands on you.”

a laugh erupts from your mouth. “cause you have a say in what i do when you left me for two fucking weeks, frank!”

he never realised how much he hated his name until it fell from your lips. he’s never been frank to you, he’s always been frankie. he’s frankie, he’s your frankie, and that one time where you jokingly called him your daddy, and he hasn’t been able to get that off his mind since. you drive him insane, but you gravitate him, make frank realise he’s got someone to look forward to, to come home to.

“had to think. had to think how i was gonna be around you and try to act all fucking normal when all you’ve ever done is live in my fucking head.” he grumbles, moving his face closer to his. you’re staring into each other’s souls, you’re seeing parts of each other you’ve never explored before.

“two weeks, frankie.” you mumble weakly, because you were weak around frank.

“had to figure things out, figure out how i was gonna tell you how i feel then you weren’t at home. find you at the damn club with some guy touching you and jesus christ, i don’t wanna see that again.”

“frank?”

he hums, eyes flickering between your eyes and your lips.

“fuck me.”

his lips are locked with yours the second the words leave your mouth. his tongue is entering your mouth and the grasp his hands have on your face becomes more possessive, like he’s showing you just how much you mean to him. you’re walking backwards, back, back, back, until you’re opening a door that was never locked and your legs crash against your bed, causing you to fall onto it.

frank’s stood over you, looking at how fucking good you sit so prettily waiting for him. eyes meeting his, wide and doe like as a means to bewitch him in the spell that is seduction, something you radiate, something he gravitated towards.

his hand finds your jaw, tilting it up slightly. it moves to stroke your cheek, but not without brushing over your lip and something seems to snap in him when he does it, because next thing you know, he’s dragging his thumb over your lip. “so fuckin’ pretty, sweetheart.” he hums, watching as your lips lock round the tip of his thumb. “yeah, so fuckin’ pretty.”

frank bends down to your height, hand abandoning your face so he can run them both over the exposed skin of your thighs. his right hand comes down harshly, slapping one of them and by the grace of god himself, the way you moaned was filthy. he smirked at your reaction, repeating it again and again and you were too caught up in the feel to notice how his hands, his large, veiny hands had spread your legs apart.

you’re not entirely exposed to him. the black lace thong you wore covering your cunt but it isn’t enough to hide how completely desperate you were for him. he chuckles at that, muttering something about how dirty you were from getting turned on by him spanking your damn thighs.

his hands find the hem of your dress, pushing it up and pulling it over your body, so now everything was revealed except the one place you needed frank the most. his eyes are immediately latched onto your nipples. you had changed the bars since the last time you saw him, angel wings sat on either side of the bar and you didn’t feel like a fucking angel when you were letting the devil himself touch you like this.

frank’s mouth immediately latches onto your left nipple, sucking and swirling his tongue and you let out the most pornographic moan he thinks he’s ever heard. it was the bite that caused you to squeal, eyes rolling back into your head and the only thing frank did was chuckle at how your body reacts to him. he repeats the action on your other nipple, biting, sucking, tongue swirling and you know there are going to be hickies there tomorrow but the idea of having frank’s mark on you has you spiralling.

“frankie…” you mutter “please.”

he looks up at you, a small smirk on his face as his hand reaches behind you, hand finishing its way into the base of your hair, pulling you forwards. “no, sweetheart. remember that one word you called me? fuckin’ teased me with it, didn’t know how much i wanted to fuck you right then and there when you said it. you remember what it was, baby?”

“daddy.” you whisper.

“that’s right.” the sound of his voice, gruff and hoarse makes you swallow. “i’m your daddy.”

he’s running his hands down your body again, until they find your thong and he snaps the material against your skin, causing you to yell. he’s pulling them down your legs in an instant, and the grip he has on your thigh will no doubt leave bruises as he delves into your cunt, lips attaching to your clit.

your body falls backwards as he sucks at the nub, before turning his attention elsewhere as he begins to feast at your cunt like he’s on death row and you’re his last meal. “fuck…daddy-” you cut yourself off as you begin to move, and his arm stretched over your hips to hold you down and your thighs entrap his head between them. but that’s heaven for frank castle, between your thighs.

you can feel the orgasm creeping up on you, and so can frank by the way you pathetically moan out his name like it’s your favourite melody. “please, please, frank. let me cum, please, need it so bad.” you beg.

frank adds to this growing orgasm, his fingers entering your hole and stuffing you full. they hit that spongy spot inside of you until you’re shaking, trying to move away from the intensity of your first orgasm but frank isn’t done with you, and you can tell by the way he holds you down and feasts on your cunt yet again.

he’s hungry, he’s a man starved and he laps up your cum like no tomorrow. his tongue is flicking up and down, lips latching onto your clit and you scream at the intensity. his fingers are still hitting inside of you, and before you know it, you’re cumming again. frank’s lips detach from your clit, watching as your eyes roll back and you moan.

“you gonna cum again, sweetheart? yeah?” he chuckles as he feels your drip onto his fingers, but he isn’t letting up. he hasn’t this entire time. it’s why your third orgasm washes over you and you’re breathless. the entire time you’ve been moaning your voice has gradually become more hoarse, but that appears to be frank’s goal.

frank stands up, placing his fingers in your mouth and watches as you suck him clean. your saliva drips from his digits and it’s so fucking filthy but you revel in the way you taste.

you frown at the loss of his fingers in your mouth, but you realise you have nothing to complain about because he’s taking his hoodie off, followed by his boots and his pants. the outline of his cock is prominent in his boxers and you feel yourself gulp.

“frankie, please.”

“please what, sweetheart?”

“please, need you to fuck me so bad.” frank smirks, climbing onto the bed and placing your legs around his torso. his cock is rubbing up against your cunt and you whimper at the feel. “frank, pl…please.”

“you need it, baby? need my cock filling up that pretty little cunt of yours? say ‘pretty please’, sweetheart. be a good girl, f’me.” he’s looking down at you, and you’re giving h the same wide eyed doe like look you did before this started, and he’s falling deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole that is you love.

“pretty please.” you bat your eyelashes, and feel frank line his cock up into your entrance before slowly pushing in. he’s big, he’s thick and it’s a lot, so it’s why when he leans down so he’s hovering over you you immediately attach your lips to his, moaning into his mouth as his hips move at a hard pace.

“f…frank. feels s…so good- fuck.” you cry out, lips moving away from his because you’re so damn lost in the way his cock hits your g spot that it has you levitating. his hand wrapped round your throat, guaranteed to bruise tomorrow but being claimed by frank has never felt so good.

“yeah, feels good? hitting that sweet, sweet spot inside of you?” his hand reaches from your neck to between your bodies, hand pressing down on your stomach where his cock moves inside of you. the touch has your legs tightening around his waist, back arching to the point where your clit grinds against him. “feel that, sweetheart? feel how good i’m fucking you?” frank kisses your jaw. “only me, sweetheart. gonna fuck you like this whenever you want.“ he pressed down harder. “my good girl- fuck, my good fucking girl..”

“frank, gonna…gonna cum.”

his hand moved from your stomach to your jaw, where he taps your cheek twice. “open up, sweetheart.” and you do. frank spits into your mouth, and like the good girl you are, you swallow, causing frank to press a soft peck on your lips. “look at you. doing whatever i fuckin’ want. so pretty, baby. should see yourself right now, taking my cock so well.” he takes not ur of how your nails are digging into his back. “you gonna cum, baby? look so fuckin’ pretty when you cum. cum all over my cock, sweetheart.”

and you do. your legs shake against his torso but frank’s endless pounding doesn’t stop. he’s grunting down your ear as you hold his face in your hands and kiss his lips. “frankie…cum inside of me.” you beg, and his eyes snap to meet yours as if to ask if you’re being serious. “please.”

it doesn’t take long until frank is finishing inside of you, filling you up to the brim and he has no shame in finger fucking it inside you when it tries to leak out.

when he’s done, he places a soft kiss on your forehead before getting up off the bed, reaching for his boxers and sliding them back on. “i’ll be right back, just gotta clean you up, ok?” he leaves the room, but he returns within two minutes with a towel, a t-shirt and two water bottles for you both.

frank’s careful as he cleans you up, knowing that you’re still sensitive. in his left hand is where the towel that cleans you with, but his right is rubbing soft circles into your thigh to reassure you. when he’s done, he helps you sit up, placing the t-shirt over your body and opening the water bottle for you, holding it up for you to drink from. you tap his wrist lightly to let him know you’re done.

“you ok, sweetheart? need anything else?” he asks, sliding into bed next to you with his arm out, to which you take that as your invitation to slide in next to him. you cuddle into his chest, his arm wrapped securely around you.

“i’m ok, frankie.” you whisper.

you hear him take a deep breath in. “i had to figure out my feelings for you. it was never just a way to shut you up, even if you don’t know when to stop talking sometimes.” he chuckles. “i love you, you know that?”

“i know.” you smile up at him. “but was dragging me out of the club really necessary?”

“don’t make me shut you up again.”

“isn’t much of a threat if i like when you kiss me.” you giggle as you press a soft kiss to his lips. “now, how about we order pizza and watch a movie?”

frank smiles down at you. “perfect.”

taglist:

@theeblackmedusa

[everything-fine-n-peachy]

chrysalis (l.jn) pt. 1

pairings: lee jeno x reader genre: angst (read: longing, so much longing) summary: arts high school au where dance major jeno works with creative writing major y/n for his senior recital. she falls first but he falls harder

You almost regret falling for Jeno. Almost. 

No matter how many times you try and scold yourself, it always works for a little while until you feel breathless from laughter at his jokes, light-headed from being under his gaze, and warm from the smile he would give you every time he executed the story into choreography, and for a few moments you think, you can’t regret something beautiful like that not even when you knew this was all fleeting. 

You remember your professor’s quirky expression before he assigned you to work on the project. 

“the story needs a little fixing here and there for the stage, but I think this is right up your alley,” your professor explained as he handed you the manuscript.

“Chrysalis?” you asked. “Like being in a cocoon?” 

“It’s a bit dark though, morbid if we’re stretching it and,” he paused for a second, “well, just don’t get too caught up with Jeno.” 

For all the opinions the entire campus had about Jeno being cold, too serious, and careless about other people’s emotions, you think, he was so much more than the Casanova archetype that everyone was projecting onto him. 

Watching him make the studio his playground, soft movements, slow tempo, then all at once fiery, intense, and swift, you discover this man is as much an oxymoron as his carefully curated piece. He was driven and relentless for sure, but he was also very considerate to the younger dancers on his team, polite to the staff, and very much kind to you. 

The more you got to know him, the more he let bits of himself slip into the conversation. Suddenly you know about his pet cats, the chocolate stash he has hidden under his bunk, and even his guilty pleasure, gaming. Later on, he’s talking about how he adores his mom’s cooking and how he dreams of being able to see the world and perform everywhere. 

And so you find yourself spending more time at the dance studio, preferring to work on your own final project there and staying late after rehearsals were done to watch Jeno polish his jumps. 

Much like today, you relish in the quietness of the moment. You’d like to think nothing else mattered. Not your feelings, not graduation, not anything. Just laying next to Jeno.  You close your eyes and take a big breath. You feel the hardwood floor beneath your back and the breeze on your face from the open windows. 

“Hey, did I lose you?” 

You turn your head slowly, opening your eyes only to find him already staring back. His index finger finds its way to your open palm right next to his, tracing circles on them, an unconscious habit he’s formed in the past months you’ve been working together. Jeno begins to say something but you’re already looking away so the words die in his mouth.

“Nope, I just realized that your final recital’s in a week,” you answer with a tiny smile. You feel the excitement in the way his eyes crinkle at you. The way he visibly squares his shoulders with a knowing smirk. 

“Are you proud of me?” he says playfully, shifting his body weight off the floor with his arm supporting him as he half hovers above you. “Say you’re proud of me.” 

Your head shakes in disbelief and try not to look too long into those deep pools of black because the last time you did, you almost did something really stupid. Almost. 

You chuckle making it a point to push him away, sitting up with your legs crossed. “Of course I’m proud, I mean you’ve worked hard.” 

“It’s your story though, I’m just in it.”  You turn at the sound of his voice, looking back at him still splayed on the floor with his arms cushioning his head. 

“This is literally your thesis, Jeno. I just helped you write the stage play.” Smiling, you reach over to boop at his nose. Unexpectedly he catches your wrist before you can pull away. You aren’t sure what to make of the way he’s looking at you, only that it makes your heart beat a little faster than it was a second ago.

You think it’s ironic, the way your penchant for finding meaning in the most mundane of things is what brought you to Jeno and yet it's the very same thing that keeps you in a loop of suffering.

Ever since you were a child, you’d made a home for yourself within the bedtime stories your mother used to tell you, falling in love with secret worlds and strange creatures. And so you grow up to build yourself your own realm of metaphors, stanzas, and rhythm, content to be whoever you wanted to be and go where you wanted to go, at least in your story. 

You never expect to meet a lonely prince on top of a mountain, the world at his feet. His kingdom, a campus full of pretentious teenagers, too dumb for their own good, who were either afraid of him or in so much awe they forget that he’s only a boy. It’s quiet and the silence is heavy with something yet to be spoken of. You watch him rub patterns on your wrist with his thumb. He closes his eyes and a contented sigh escapes his lips. You can’t deny the number of times you’ve wanted to just give in to the inexplicable pull you felt, to just lean in and kiss Jeno. For the umpteenth time, you find your body moving on its own accord and you jolt your head back, whiplash taking over. 

“It’s getting late,” you murmur, pulling away. Jeno blinks, confused at your suddenly icy tone. 

This is nuts, you think. You almost did it again. Hastily, you stuff your belongings into your bag, eager to put a healthy amount of distance between you and the boy who made your chest feel like it was about to explode. 

Maybe if he wasn’t receiving offers from schools so far away, you’d actually give this a chance. But you knew better than to kid yourself into thinking that you were part of Jeno’s world. His was a realm of glittering lights and roaring crowds. You were just part of the chorus of applause. 

You feel Jeno, instead of hearing him approach. The warmth behind you feels like a siren’s call. And so you try to distract yourself.

“I just remembered that I need to talk to Mr. Kim about…” you huff in exertion trying to pack your things as fast as possible. “The senior book launch is also in a week and-” 

Before you know it Jeno pulls you in, to face him. You’re too shocked to register what just happened. Your mouth hangs agape but before you can even say anything Jeno is the first to break the ice. 

“Why do you always pull away?” you feel his palm coming up to gently caress your cheek and feel the urge to smoothen the frown that’s formed on his regrettably handsome face. It’s a mistake to meet his gaze because when you do, you realize they’re expectant of something you don’t know or rather, are too afraid to actually name. 

You close your eyes instead, trying to at least regain some rationality. Jeno breathes out an exasperated sigh before leaning his forehead against yours. His scent, a mix of mint and Jeno, inevitably fills your lungs with the proximity. You feel yourself relent a little, leaning into his touch wanting so badly to just stay this way for a little longer. 

Everything about this boy was tempting. The crescents staring back at you when he was laying his head on your lap in between rehearsals, the way he was so attentive to your input during the entire process and the feel of his hands on your waist as he taught you certain parts of the choreography, insisting it was part of the creative exchange. 

You find yourself glancing at his mouth, transfixed by the way he runs his tongue against his lips. He stares back at you with hooded eyes and you’re about to close the distance when a shrill yell from the outside douses you like cold water from an ice bucket and you quickly extract yourself from Jeno. 

You grab the last of your things, not even bothering to put them inside your bag before heading for the exit. “I have to go,” you mutter before walking past him.

Jaemin smiles at you, clueless about the exchange that just took place seconds ago. He greets Jeno with a big bright hello which dies in his throat as soon as he sees how crestfallen his best friend looks.

But you don’t have time to think about that. You’re already running out of the studio, thoughts churning at the rate of light speed. You had almost kissed Jeno. Almost.

[tartarusknight]

King of the Freaks | Part 6

Ao3 Link | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

Eddie and the boys were in Steve Harrington’s house. He was in Steve’s house. Never in a million years did he think this would ever happen. But it is happening. Except, Steve wasn’t even there. He made them promise to head over after school and that he’d meet up with them after swimming. They hadn’t wanted to but Steve was convincing. So, here they were.

 Steve had told them to make the basement into their little cave because no one went down there. It was well-cleaned but there wasn’t much down there. There were two rooms off to the side one was a bathroom and the other was a laundry room. The rest of the room was open with fancy couches and art around the room. It looked like those furniture stores that would set up fake living rooms that didn’t have any personality in them. The only proof that it was lived in was the way the couches were broken in and a couple of soft throw blankets on the backs.

 They shifted the couches around the semi-tall coffee table and Eddie grabbed one of the single chairs off to the side. If they had a taller table, it would be perfect, but they could work with this. Eddie set up his shit around the chair while the rest of them talked amongst each other. Once everything was put together and they were ready to start, Eddie started to feel like it was wrong without Steve. Maybe it was stupid, the younger teen wasn’t even a member but as he looked around, he knew the others felt the same way.

 Gareth sighed, “I say we roll Steve a character.” Eddie perked up and everyone nodded. They pulled out their books and a couple of character sheets to start. They all launched ideas back and forth, going off what they knew about the man and what they could make up. They got so wrapped up in the ideas they didn’t even notice the time passing.

Jeff is rewriting it all in nice handwriting to make it easier to read. Gareth was going through the figures and dice to pick out something that fits Steve. Grant is making a cheat sheet for moves and other good-to-know facts. All while Eddie draws out a character design for Steve. They all jump when they notice the door to the basement opening and Steve peaking his head down. He looks all confused and Eddie has to force himself to focus only on his face as he notices the joggers and tank top Steve has on with a sweatshirt tied around his waist.

 Steve jogs down the steps and raises an eyebrow. “I almost thought you guys had been murdered for how silent the house was.” He huffed and Eddie looked over him to see an actual tenseness to Steve’s movements. Like he was actually worried about their safety.

Jeff clears his throat, “we got distracted by something. It happens sometimes.” He shrugged and Steve moved over, leaning over his shoulder to see the paper. Eddie watched Steve squint like he couldn’t see the paper well enough. Which supported Gareth’s theories. They watched his brow furrow before Eddie saw him give up on trying to understand it. 

 Steve straightened up and cleared his throat, “I’m going to take a shower, but afterward I can get something for dinner. Pizza? Yeah, I’ll order some pizzas. What do you all like?” He rambled and Eddie wondered if they made him nervous. Because sometimes Steve looked a second from bolting.

Jeff tossed his pencil to the table before stretching. “I believe I said we’d get the food, actually. So, I’ll order, you go shower. Anything you want?” He said calmly and Eddie was a little jealous of how easy-going Jeff was. Steve made a weird noise in the back of his throat like he wasn’t expecting it. Then he just gave a small shrug and Jeff gave him a look but didn’t push it. Instead, they both headed upstairs together quietly.

 Grant sighed, “okay so we should ease him into it. Like, don’t mention the character at all. Let him watch a couple of times before asking him to become a member completely.”

Gareth nodded, “it can be a lot. And we don’t want to make him feel like he has to play.”

 Eddie dropped his head into his hand, “why can’t we just hug him until he feels better?” He whined and Gareth snickered.

“You’re the one that decided to bring him into this,” Grant pointed out.

That made Eddie groan, “I know! I just- I figured it was something easily fixable! But instead, I see his puppy dog face and my heart can’t handle it!”

 Gareth patted his back a few times before smacking him over the head. Eddie flung himself at the younger boy who was like a brother to him. “You fucker,” He screamed.

Gareth laughed and scrambled away from Eddie. “I’m trying to literally knock sense into you! You can’t keep doing this!” He pointed out.

Eddie looked at the couch between them with contemplation. “I’m not doing anything,” He lied.

Gareth frowned, “I just don’t want you to get hurt, you know that.” And Eddie did know that.

 But he also knew about Steve. How the guy had somehow turned himself around enough that he was getting bullied himself. That the only people that actually talked to him at school, other than Hellfire, were his ex and her new boyfriend. Or how Steve had trouble with food and didn’t have an okay family life. But also how Steve lit up when he talked about the kids he looked after. Honestly, it wasn’t fair to Eddie’s heart. He knew the moment Steve knew what D&d was that he was fucked but he wanted to pretend he wasn’t.

 Instead, he just groaned before launching himself at Gareth. Gareth shrieked and hit the ground with Eddie on top of him. They all started laughing until the door to the basement slammed open and Steve looked down. He was damp like he had been in the shower and threw on his pants in a hurry. Eddie watched the water run down his chest and tried his best not to die. “Is everyone alright?” Steve was a little out of breath and Jeff appeared next to him with a worried face. Eddie nodded and Steve looked one minute from shaking apart. He gave a sharp nod before he disappeared once again. Jeff looked after him until they all heard a door shut.

 They all decided to get the game started so that Steve could slip in easily once he joined them. And so that he wouldn't have to explain the fears that they all noticed. Eddie got into his element and he only stumbled a little when Steve joined them with the pizza. They paused and Grant handed Steve a piece of cheese. Steve smiled but he looked at the pizza like it was going to kill him. Eventually, he took a bite and then another. But Eddie made sure to keep an eye on him just in case. Steve did finish it but he turned down another.

 The night continued on and Steve watched from next to Grant on a couch, his head resting on his knees but he looked entertained. Eddie didn’t hold back, going all out to entertain him. However, once it got around 9 Steve disappeared once again. Eddie called for the night and everyone started cleaning up. However, no one stopped him from heading off to find Steve.

 He finally found him upstairs. The younger teen was curled up tight with a walkie in his hand, listening as kids sounded off. “This is Dustin signing off for the night.” One voice called.

“Everything’s alright over here, I’m heading to bed,” a girl stated but then sighed. “Max is signing off.”

“Nancy and Mike are signing off,” another small boy.

“The Byers are all good,” another boy stated.

“All good here, Lucas signing off.”

“El is going to bed?” A small girl sounded unsure but Eddie watched each voice loosen something in Steve.

 Steve sat there silently and Eddie didn’t know if he should say something before the walkie crackled to life again. “Steeevvve!” A voice drawled and Steve rested his head on his knees.

Steve cleared his throat, “Right. Yeah, well good night, dumbasses, Steve’s out.” Steve says in a soft voice. There’s a chorus of good nights before it goes silent and Steve shuts it down.

 Eddie knocks gently and Steve glances over, jumping a little. “Sorry,” Eddie smiled softly and Steve just gave him a small shrug. “Are those the kids you talked about?” He wanted to move closer but he stayed at the door. Leaning in the frame like he’s cooler than he is.

Steve sighs, “yeah. They uh- they do this every night.” It makes Eddie relax to think at least someone says good night to Steve every night. Even if it’s a little strange.

 “Uh, Byers, you know? Will? He’s one of them so everyone’s a little more… they like to know everyone’s alright every night just in case.” Steve explains, his face going pink.

“I think it’s nice,” Eddie assured and he couldn’t stop moving closer. He dropped onto the edge of Steve’s bed. “It’s like saying good night to your family. My Uncle, Wayne, works nights but I always say good morning and he always says good night. It’s always nice to know you’re not alone.”

Steve nods, “yeah. It’s nice to know… that they’re okay.” He states and Eddie watches as Steve’s gaze wanders to his window.

 “It was getting late, we figured we’d head out,” Eddie says gently and if he hadn’t been watching Steve so closely he would’ve missed the flicker of fear on his face. “It was really nice to do it here, to have you as our little cheerleader.” He teased in the hope to make Steve feel a little better.

Steve smirks, “yeah? Feel free to leave the basement that way. You can use it any time. I don’t mind the noise.” He says and Eddie’s heart hurts. How quiet did this house get at night when it was just Steve?

 Eddie reached over and gave his arm a little squeeze, “we might take you up on it. You don’t know how annoying it is at the high school. I’ve got to drop all the others off but how about I call when we’re all home safe and sound?” He offers and Steve’s eyes go wide. He nods quickly and Eddie stands up. He glances around Steve’s room and it’s not any more personal than the rest of the house. It looks like someone was hired to design a teenage boy’s room but they didn’t actually know the kid. Eddie swallowed hard at picturing Steve growing up in this fake house.

 Steve followed him downstairs and Eddie listened as Steve offered his basement as their go-to spot for however long they wanted it. Eddie silently persuaded them to agree but he didn’t really need to. Not now. As they all headed out Eddie gave Steve’s shoulder a squeeze on his way out and Steve leaned into it a little bit. It made Eddie pause and turn. He pulled Steve into a big but short hug before giving him a salute and heading to the van.

Eddie knew he was falling but he pushed it away. Steve needed friends right now and Eddie could be that for him. 

 @zerokrox-bloglog @cyranyxx @adaed5 @the-redthreadd @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaringceyoustopcaring @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshitorthisshit @failedstarsandgoldencloudsds @bisexualdisastersworldd @deadlydodoss @anythingyouwanttobee @nburkhardtt @bestwifehaverr @thehumblefigtreee @megzdoodlee @swimmingbirdrunningrockk @mightbeasleepp @bxlthazarar @autumnal-dawnn @chillichatss @nonbinary-eddie-munsonon @the-daydreamer-in-the-cornerner @eddie-munson-is-my-wifewife @a-little-unsteddiedie @sharingisntkaren @a-huge-nerdy-nerd @0o-queendean-o0 @beckkthewreck @vi-an-te @vampireinthesun @newtstabber @dinosareawesome2137  @spicemallow @hellomynameismoo  @luthienstormblessed @briceslayed @angeldreamsoffanfic @dbquills @prideandsensibility @iwouldsail @ponfarrtimeatthevulcannightclub @spectrum-spectre @the-chilly-kat @yearningagain @loopsmd @starlight-archer @sleepy-time @goodolefashionedloverboi  @crazyshipper67  @sherrylyn628  @bidisastersworld  @v3lnys  @n0connections  cherixxx69  theotalksalot  tailsfromthecrypt  ledleaf  grimmfitzz

(SORRY I CAN’T TAG ANYMORE PEOPLE!)

[headfullofpresley]

Good Boy

Pairing: Elvis Presley x reader

Word count: 8,6K

Warning(s): sub!Elvis, soft dom!reader, army!Elvis, SMUT obv; handjob (m. receiving), edging/orgasm control, begging, praise kink, strong language, alcohol consumption, smoking.

Requested: No, but pls send in requests for sub!Elvis ;)

Summary: While on military leave, Elvis discovers a whole new side of himself with the help of a pretty little showgirl in Paris.

Author’s note: readers’ performance and outfit was based on this video! I just suck at describing it, so if you want the visual, there ya go. also, i am officially dead after writing this bc GODDAMN. also, i suggest listening to this song while reading this ;););). enjoy luvs!

Translations for French words used in this:

mon chéri/chéri - my dear/sweetheart/etc.

bébé - baby

salut, mon amour - hi/hello, my love

mon ange - my angel

magnifique - magnificent

mon trésor - my treasure

masterlist

‘‘You've been a bad bad boy, I'm gonna take my time, so enjoy. There's no need to feel no shame; relax and sip upon my champagne.

Oh baby for all it's worth, I swear I'll be the first to blow your mind. I'll give you some oh-la-la; voulez vous coucher avec moi?

I got you breaking into a sweat; got you hot, bothered, and wet, you nasty boy.’’

To many, Paris was known for being the leader in the world when it came to fashion and art, authentic little bakeries that baked fresh bread and pastries at the crack of dawn to wake up the people in the neighborhoods with the mouth watering smell, the fierce people that could have one shaking with just a single glare. The city was classy and elegant, but as soon as the sun would go down, Paris would turn into the bustling place men and women from far away would come for. One could even say Paris was the cherry on top of the cake that was Europe.  

Elvis on the other hand did not give a damn for what the French city was known for. He had been serving time in the army for a year now and he couldn’t wait to get out of Germany and spend his week off in another country that was waiting for him to be explored. Or in other words: he couldn’t wait to let loose and attend some parties, curious to know what the French ladies were like. Even though he had girls lining up for him and fighting for his attention back in Germany, he hadn’t gotten any lately and he was feeling a little… touch starved.

‘‘I’m sorry, gentlemen. We’re completely full tonight,’’ the girl sitting at the ticket booth in front of the well-known Moulin Rouge club told the two men in front of her. Frank looked at her as he pointed at Elvis, who could already guess where this was going and swatted his hand away.

‘‘Do you know who this is?’’ He asked her in utter disbelief, nearly scoffing in the poor girls’ face and Elvis smacked his arm, shoving him aside as he stepped forward, giving the girl an apologetic smile. ‘‘I’m so sorry about him. Enjoy your night, darlin’,’’ he told her and she just nodded, not seeming to be bothered by Frank’s behaviour at all, nor the fact that he was Elvis Presley.

Elvis grabbed his friends’ arm and pulled him away from the club, rolling his eyes as Frank pulled his arm free, letting out a laugh. ‘‘What are we gon’ do now, E? It’s 2 in the morning and every goddamn place in Paris is full,’’ Frank exclaimed in slight frustration, spreading his arms. They had only arrived in Paris this morning but hadn’t had much time to do anything since Elvis would be followed around pretty much every day. He didn’t mind it all that much─giving the people the attention they wanted from him, posing for pictures and so on, but both men were looking forward to their first night out in the city. After all, everything is better when the sun goes down, right?

‘‘Let’s just walk and look for a place that’s not full,’’ Elvis sighed, lighting a cigarette as he strided forward. Frank rolled his eyes up to the sky, but before he could follow his friend, the both of them halted their movements as soon as a voice spoke up.

‘‘You’re going the wrong way,’’ a woman leaning against the wall next to a record store told them casually, smoke of her cigarette circling up as she held it in between her fingers elegantly. A small grin tugged at the corner of her red lips, golden brown eyes carrying a mischievous sparkle. The red trench coat she wore hugged all her curves and matched her lips to a perfection, her thick curls framing her face as her bronzed complexion glistened in the flickering neon lights coming from the Moulin Rouge club a few steps back. The two men were taken back for a second, staring at the woman with slightly dropped jaws. Paris was full of beautiful people, but there was something about the woman in front of them. Unconsciously, they were drawn to her and had taken a few steps closer. She laughed softly, taking a small puff from her cigarette, leaving a red stain behind on the bud.

‘‘E-Excuse me?’’ Frank stuttered, snapping out of his little trance as he tried his best to sound calm and collected. She blew out some smoke from the corner of her mouth and threw her cigarette onto the pavement, stepping on it with the pointy heel of her pump. ‘‘I said, you’re going the wrong way. If you want what you’re getting at the Moulin Rouge, and well.. maybe more, you will not find it there,’’ she hummed mysteriously with a soft French accent on her tongue, pointing at the direction they were headed in, as if they knew what kind of places there were. She knew it were all just small jazz bars that were closing up any time now and restaurants that had closed their doors hours ago.

‘‘Well, do you know a place we can go to then?’’ Elvis asked, flashing her a friendly smile as his cigarette hung in between his fingertips loosely, his brain completely forgetting it was there in the first place. ‘‘It’s our first night in Paris and we just wanna have a drink, nothing too crazy,’’

‘‘Soldiers?’’ The woman asked as she pushed herself off of the wall, standing up straight while tightening the strings on her coat, the fabric outlining her body even more. Both Frank and Elvis tried hard to keep their eyes on her face and to not let their eyes wander down to have a peek at said curves and bare legs. ‘‘Yes, ma’am,’’ Elvis said politely as Frank nodded and she let out a laugh, signing for them to come along as she started walking in the other direction. ‘‘Call me Daisy, chéri,’’ she grinned, her heels clicking against the pavement as she didn’t even look back to see if they would follow her. She knew they would─they always did.

Elvis and Frank exchanged a quick look before Frank quickly tugged his friend along, jogging after Daisy. She kept quiet the entire walk to where ever she was taking them, smiling softly as she could hear them whispering to each other now and then. At one point, Frank even voiced out his worries to Elvis about how he was hoping they wouldn’t die in Paris and she couldn’t stop herself from giggling softly. They certainly were not going to die, but she was positive that they would leave this city as new men.

A bubble of nerves mixed with excitement settled into Elvis’ stomach as Daisy turned into a dark alley, the only light that lit up the dark street being a twinkling midnight blue neon sign in the form of a martini glass. Despite the place not even seeming to have a name, there was a broad shouldered man standing by the door, letting the people that were queueing outside in, if he redeemed them worthy to be allowed in that was. It seemed like anyone that had more than just a few drinks were turned down, as well as people that could not prove they were over eighteen. Daisy passed by the line of people and greeted the man at the door, who pressed a kiss on her cheek and opened the black velvet robe, opening the big equally black door. Frank gave Elvis an exciting squeeze in his arm as he heard the music and chattering coming from inside, tugging Elvis along into the club Daisy brought them to.

It was like they were thrown into a completely different world. They were aware of what a burlesque club was and this seemed an awful lot like it, but at the same time, it felt so different. There was a big mahogany bar near the entrance, large mirrors on the wall behind it giving the perfect view of the stage that was located on the other side of the establishment. Bottles of any kind of liquor were lined up against the mirrors and Elvis couldn’t even read some of the labels as they were displayed in all kinds of languages he unfortunately did not speak. The place was nearly filled to the brim with people, sitting at tables that had the perfect view of the girls dancing on the stage, or dancing in any empty spot they could find. French franc’s and American dollars were flying through the air coming from the people closest to the stage, a group of Dutch soldiers spending all their last money on the dancing girls, sticking papers in their outfits or mouths when they allowed it. All the men, and even some women, were watching the girls on stage with hungry eyes and you wouldn’t have to think twice to guess what they were thinking about─despite that, everyone kept their hands to themselves and were very respectful. A strange place, but oh so exciting.

‘‘What is this place?’’ Frank yelled in excitement as he looked at Daisy when she brought Elvis and him over to the bar, waving over the bartender. ‘‘Hmm.. One would say it’s a burlesque club, one would say a gentlemen’s club, but I don’t like that name. The ladies love it too,’’ she hummed mysteriously, winking at Frank as she nodded to some girls at a table, cheering on one of the club girls that was making a show of pretending to remove her stockings, teasing them by rolling them right back up. Elvis laughed excitedly, flashing a grateful smile at Daisy as she handed him a drink. ‘‘It can be whatever you want it to be, that’s fun of this whole place,’’ she smiled brightly, poking both his and Frank’s noses, before she walked off and disappeared behind a curtain near the stage, leaving them behind to enjoy the show.

‘‘Salut, mon amour,’’ you hummed happily as you noticed Daisy walking into your shared dressing room. She walked over to where you were sitting in front of your vanity, hugging you from behind─you squeezed her hands and laughed as you hugged her back, your eyes following her in the mirror as she took off her coat, revealing the shiny black velvet bodysuit she wore that made her legs look like they went on for days, her breasts perfectly squished together. ‘‘Have you been saving poor lost souls from Moulin Rouge and Le Lido again?’’ you grinned knowingly at her, leaning forward to your mirror to continue applying your lipstick. Daisy laughed and sat down in front of her own mirror, leaning her arm on the back of her chair as she grinned at you.

‘‘Well ofcourse, my darlin’. We need to make money too, right?’’

You laughed a little at her reply, but nodded nonetheless. She was definitely right─with the Moulin Rouge and Le Lido being the most famous burlesque clubs in the city, the small mystery club you worked at had to work extra hard to keep up at with the scene. Knowledge of this place got out through word of mouth and although business seemed to be popping, the owner Théodore was up to his neck in debts. He refused to give up his passion for the business and close the club, and you and Daisy used to love this place just as much but you were both ready for bigger and better things. You had big dreams but in order to let them come true, you needed money.

‘‘I can’t wait until we get out of Paris,’’ you sighed deeply as you popped your lips in the mirror, puckering them to make sure you didn’t miss a spot before you put your make-up down. A wide grin spread across Daisy’s face and you could practically feel excitement oozing out of her, making you look at her with a raised eyebrow. ‘‘There might be a chance that we’ll get out of here sooner than expected,’’ Daisy said as she leaned a little closer to you, eyes twinkling in the lights of your vanity. ‘‘Elvis Presley is one of the lost souls I’ve saved tonight,’’ she whispered, as if you two weren’t the only ones in the room. You widened your eyes upon hearing that name, looking at her as if she had grown two heads.

‘‘E-Elvis.. Elvis Presley?’’ You repeated in disbelief, grabbing onto her hands as she nodded, her hair bouncing wildly with her movements. You both were very aware of who the man was, as did the rest of the world, but the fact that he was American excited you even more. Sure, there were American soldiers in here pretty much every night, but back at home they were nobodies. Elvis Presley was someone─someone with status, money, the power to get you out of this hell hole of a city. Yeah, Paris wasn’t all they cranked up to be. ‘‘Y/N, you have to do your solo tonight. The one with the little white corset and the feather skirt,’’ Daisy said with a gasp, and you could almost see a light bulb lighting up above her head. She let go of your hands and walked to the racks of clothing, looking through the fabrics for a little bit until she pulled out the outfit she had in mind─the fabric of the breasts were decorated with small diamonds as well as the seams and the panties you wore with it. The feather like skirt that you’d wrap around your waist to give the outfit a bit of a pop was a shade of very light pink. You had spend months saving up for this outfit and you loved performing in it because it sparkled so prettily in the lights. It was definitely one of your most successful outfits as well, as it always got you the most tips.

‘‘Only if you do your solo in the pearl outfit,’’ you grinned teasingly at her, wiggling your eyebrows─your best friend had a solo she’d do wearing only pearls wrapped around her body, making it seem like it was an outfit. Showed a lot of skin, but not the skin people were so desperate to see. You loved seeing her in it and you knew that Elvis and who ever he brought would too. ‘‘Bébé, it’s like you’re reading my mind,’’ she laughed as she handed you your outfit and grabbed her own. Since your job was basically dancing for money and dressing up, you often wore wigs─this time you decided on a white blonde bob cut with bangs, bringing out the Parisian in you. It was fun to play someone different from who you were in your day to day life, and you always greatly indulged in your roles, making the people in the audience really believe in the show you were putting on.

After you put on your equally as shiny and diamond covered pumps, you and Daisy walked out of the dressing room and as the lights in the club dimmed a little, Daisy quickly informed the band which song she wanted to do tonight before she took her position on the piano. You waited behind the curtains as the lights went back up, music playing as two of your other co-workers revealed Daisy that was laying on the piano from behind the big white feathers they held in front of her. She effortlessly flirted with the piano man as part of her show as she sang her little heart out. You and Daisy were probably the only girls at the club that sang and it got people coming back every time, so Théodore asked you to keep doing it. A lot of girls that worked at the club did not take a great liking to you and your best friend, because you made the most money out of all girls, but it wouldn’t be long until you and Daisy would walk out of here with a rockstar on your arm and follow him to America to make it big. After all, there was no way that you were going to leave your best friend behind in Paris.

As Daisy was wrapping every single person in the audience around her pretty little finger, your eyes scanned the crowd for the one and only Elvis Presley your best friend promised you she had somehow gotten here. When your eyes found him sitting at the bar, sipping his drink and shoulders shaking a little to the music, the wind was almost knocked right out of your lungs. You already knew he was handsome from pictures you had seen, but good Lord, he was absolutely gorgeous. Your fingers clenched around the stage curtain you were hiding behind, biting your lip as your mind was already making up all kinds of stories that included having him in very unholy positions. Rockstar or not, soldiers were always so easy to get on their knees, doing whatever you wanted them to do. Just like his friend, he was dressed up in a suit, making you giggle softly. A dress code was often required at the Moulin Rouge and other places, but in here, everyone just wore whatever they wanted. As long as their pockets were full, Théodore didn’t care what anyone looked like.

When Daisy’s solo came to an end, Elvis and his friend applauded happily as did the rest of the crowd. People at the front were throwing money her way, the locals chanting her name over and over again as they wanted more and more. They always did. You smiled brightly as you let go of the curtain and clapped your hands in excitement as Daisy ran back to you, hands filled with paper. ‘‘You were magnifique as always, mon trésor!’’ you exclaimed theatrically, though you meant every word of it. As all of her performances, this one had been amazing and you could understood why Théodore did not want to let the both of you go. It would have him completely broke by the end of the week, maybe even the middle of it.

‘‘I’ll keep his friend busy, go get him, mon ange,’’ Daisy laughed excitedly, nodding her head to the bar as she air-kissed your cheek, making sure not to get lipstick on your face. You giggled and nodded, tiptoeing on the stage as the lights dimmed once more, informing the band of your choice of music. As you sat yourself on the velvet cushioned bench on the stage, you felt nervous for the first time because you knew that Elvis Presley’s eyes would be on you in only a few seconds. You inhaled some air, making sure to relax every muscle in your body as you gave the guy in charge of the lights a nod, making him light up the club a bit more. As your song started with a soft and gentle piano tune and you started singing, people at the front row were already cheering and losing their minds just like they had with Daisy. You noticed some of the other girls that had been on the stage earlier who were now waitressing rolling their eyes and you had to bite your tongue not to laugh. Both you and Daisy always thrived even more because of their jealousy. The song soon picked up its beat, adding drums and saxophone to your performance and you put on the greatest show of your life, your body moving easily to the rhythm of the music. You made sure to give the people at the front row a flirty smile as you took some money from them, sliding the bills into your corset.

Nearing the end of your song, you took a few steps down the small stairs at the front of the stage and the Dutch soldiers were quick to lift you off of the steps by holding your arms, placing you down on the floor. You danced your way through the crowd, interacting with people and taking their money as you made your way to the bar. You shot a wink at Daisy who was sitting next to Elvis’ friend, your best friend supportively dancing to the music. You sang as you looked at Elvis, grinning playfully as you reached your hand out to him. He widened his eyes a little, taking the hint as got up from his seat and lifted you up by the waist instead, sitting you down on top of the bar. You gasped theatrically as the band had their solo, sliding yourself further up the bar to place your heels on it. Daisy had glued your little blonde wig down so much that you could probably keep it on the entire week, though it made it possible for you to throw your head back as you stretched your leg out, giving the people─and mostly Elvis─the view you wanted them to have. As you got on your knees and swirled your hair around before standing up straight, you kicked the cocktail shaker that bartender put down, making him catch it easily. You had done this so many times before, that all the bartenders were aware of every little performance trick you had up your sleeve. You seductively walked your way over the U-shaped bar, toward the mirrors and danced in front of it before you turned around and gave the bartender a knowing wink. Two of them held your hand as the third leaned over, letting you walk over his back to get to the other side of the bar and in front of Elvis again. You made sure not to dig your heels in too deep and smiled at him as he gave you a quick thumbs up. You finished your song as you sat down on the bar, turning Elvis around so he was facing the audience instead of you before you swung your legs over his shoulders, putting your hands up elegantly while shooting a big fat wink to the people as the song ended.

Elvis felt like he had been thrown in a fever dream. A very pleasurable fever dream, he had to admit. He had seen burlesque shows before in America and while they were exciting and fun to watch, it was nothing like this. The screams of the audience, the live singing, the way you had the crowd in the palm of your hand. Including him. It was all so thrilling and so risqué. As you lifted your legs off of his shoulders and thanked some people who gave you money, you took the drink the bartender handed you and looked at Elvis who had turned back to face you, flushed cheeks and wild electric blue eyes.

‘‘You.. You were amazing,’’ he breathed out, letting out a laugh as he reached out some money to your corset. As he slipped it behind the fabric and his fingertips touched the flesh of your breast, you could’ve sworn your entire body was set aflame. Now that you could take a good look at him from up close, you could definitely understand why so many girls would scream and cry upon the sight of him. He was strikingly beautiful and you were definitely planning on having some fun with him tonight, and the day after, and after, and after… You could get used to seeing his face every day of the rest of your life.

‘‘I know,’’ you smiled at him, taking a sip of your drink as you crossed your legs while still sitting on the bar. ‘‘I did not expect to see you here tonight, mr. Presley. Has Paris treated you well?’’ you hummed, making your voice sound extra flirty, accent extra thick. Americans loved girls with accents.

‘‘It’s only my first night, honey. But I like it very much,’’ he said, his Southern drawl sounding very interesting and very sexy to your ears. He gave you a knowing smile, as he obviously meant you as his reasoning for liking Paris. You smiled brightly and slipped your hand down the collar of his blazer, fixing it a little. Your eyes sneakily met those of Daisy and you two exchanged a wink as she clinked her glass against Frank’s, giggling at something he whispered in her ear. ‘‘What’s your name, darlin’?’’ Elvis asked, making you look at him again with a slight head tilt, squinting your eyes teasingly as if you were contemplating on whether you were going to give him your real name or not. But his eyes looked so hopeful and so cute, so you figured having him know your real name wouldn’t be so bad. After all, you were planning on having this man take you out of Europe─a girl’s gotta play her cards right.

‘‘It’s Y/N, mon chéri,’’ you smiled, reaching your hand out to him. He took it, grinning as he kissed your knuckles, though he didn’t let go of your hand. Instead, he intertwined your fingers together and casually held onto your hand as his other hand landed on your thigh, smirk tugging at his lips. ‘‘A pretty name for a pretty girl,’’ he complimented, as if you hadn’t heard that one a thousand times before. No matter where they came from, all soldiers were the same. Though when it came from him, it sent a tingle down your spine but you weren’t going to tell him that. It was true that you wanted him, but you were not planning on acting like one of his lovesick fans. You knew you already had him in the palm of your hand, even though he thought he was the one in charge here. You rolled your eyes slightly and laughed as you gently pushed him off, placing your drink down before you jumped off the bar.

‘‘I’m going to get changed, mr. Presley. When I come back, make sure you finished your drink, okay?’’ you told him sweetly, leaving a lipstick stain behind as you kissed his cheek. As you passed by Daisy, you squeezed her arm softly and laughed as you quickly ran off to your dressing room. You put all your money away and took your performance outfit off, putting it away before you put on your own clothes again which you had worn when you came here─a tight fitted black dress which was probably a little shorter than what modest women wore nowadays, but you weren’t exactly a modest women. You were a showgirl, a free spirited one. Didn’t like to be part of the crowd, but would much rather stick out in one. You kept the wig on. Because one, it looked kinda cute and two, it would probably take you hours to get it off. You fixed your make-up a little, spraying some perfume around you before you grabbed your clutch and stepped into your pumps before you walked back to the bar and over to Daisy.

‘‘Let me know if that wig is sex proof,’’ she whispered teasingly at you and you threw your head back with a laugh, nodding at her as you hugged her. You gave Frank a quick wave before you shrugged your coat on and took Elvis’ hand, smiling at him.

‘‘Where are you taking me?’’ He laughed softly as you pulled him outside, taking him out of the alley and away from the club. You let go of his hand and hooked your arm through his instead, smiling innocently as you looked up at him. ‘‘My house,’’ you shrugged casually and even though Elvis was surprised, he tried his best not to show it. Guess he didn’t have to work as hard as he thought. ‘‘I have been working all night and I want some coffee. The club’s coffee is not very good,’’ you chuckled and he nodded, letting you take him to your place. The walk there was short, but enjoyable nonetheless. He told you a little bit about his hometown and his time in Germany, telling you how he both liked and disliked being enlisted into the army and you told him you were glad he had become a soldier, otherwise you probably would not have met him. As you arrived at your apartment and you opened the door, stepping inside, he grinned at you.

‘‘Didn’t even have to use one of those creative pickup lines, huh?’’

‘‘It’s only coffee, mr. Presley,’’ you rolled your eyes with a smile on your face. You obviously weren’t planning on having only coffee with the man and he damn well knew that too. ‘‘Elvis,’’ he said as he followed you into the open spaced kitchen of your small apartment, leaning against the counter as you flicked some lights on, taking your coat off. ‘‘Call me Elvis,’’ he smiled as you looked at him and he took your coat from you, hanging it up by the front door. You hummed with a nod, making some coffee for the both of you, despite it being in the middle of the night. To you, it was usual routine.

‘‘Do you often bring men back to your apartment?’’ He asked as he blew at the dark liquid in the cup you handed him, eyes boring into yours as a teasing grin lingered on his face. You chuckled softly, taking a sip of your coffee. ‘‘Only if they’re as cute as you,’’ you teased back, licking your lips as you put the steaming hot coffee down, taking a step closer to him. You grabbed onto his jacket, biting your lip as your eyes wandered down to his plumb lips. ‘‘There’s not a lot of those out there, so no, Elvis. Not often,’’ you grinned and he put his coffee down on the counter, snaking his arms around your waist, pressing you against him. You stood in between his long legs, hands moving up his shoulders to wrap your arms around his neck loosely.

‘‘You know somethin’?’’ he hummed, leaning in closer to you. You could feel his hot breath against your skin as the smell of his cologne entered your nostrils, making your heart jump with excitement. ‘‘When you were up there, on that stage.. I could barely keep my eyes off of you,’’

‘‘Barely? Do not lie to me, Elvis. You were undressing me with your eyes,’’ you stated boldly, the tip of your nose touching his as his lips ghosted over yours. He laughed softly as he nodded, softly pressing his lips against yours. He was gentle and sweet and as he deepened the kiss, you let him take the lead for a little bit. You let him believe he was the dominant one in the room, you let him fantasize about how you’d be screaming his name, but boy… was he in for a surprise. You slipped your hands down and grabbed his hands, pulling away from the kiss as you smiled at him and took him to your bedroom, pecking his lips as you gently pushed him to sit down on your bed. You turned on the light on your bedside table, holding back a giggle as he eagerly took off his blazer, throwing it to the foot of the bed. He kicked off his shoes as he pushed himself further up the bed, leaning against your pillow while he watched you intensely as you pulled up your dress a little before you straddled his waist. You leaned down to capture his lips into a heated kiss as your hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them as you kissed your way down his neck and chest, pushing his shirt open. He gasped softly as he looked down at you when you unbuckled his belt, pulling it out of the loops of his pants. He watched with confused but curious eyes as you threw the belt on the bed next to you and reached for his blazer, smiling at him. You figured you’d go a little easy on him, leaving the belt for another time.

‘‘I’d take that off if I were you,’’ you told him, nodding to the shirt he was still wearing. He had no idea what you were up to and while part of him wanted to question you on it, he kept his mouth shut and did exactly as he was told to do when he saw that cute grin on your face and mischievous twinkle in your eye. Taking the shirt off, he let it fall to the floor next to your bed before leaning back. You hummed softly and grabbed his hands, holding them above his head and against the metal bars of your bed. When you moved your body up a bit to hover above his chest, wrapping the sleeves of his blazer around his wrists and your bed, he widened his eyes a little. ‘‘W-What are you d-doing?’’ he stuttered out in a panic, looking at you when you moved down again after you had made sure he was firmly tied up. His brain and body were fighting each other─while he was in slight panic and confusion, maybe he was even a little scared, the bulge that was formed in his pants told a whole ‘nother story. You bit your lip as you giggled softly, hands pulling the zipper of his pants down.

‘‘If you want me to stop, all you need to do is say so, Elvis,’’ you hummed, fluttering your eyelashes at him innocently. When you pulled his pants down a little and traced your fingertips along the aforementioned bulge over the fabric of his boxershorts, he groaned softly, his toes curling involuntarily. Maybe the best thing to do here was to think with the rational side of his brain. He didn’t even know you and here he was, tied up in your bed after not even having been in your apartment for fifteen minutes. Instead, he let go of the reigns and let his body take over, muscles in his lower abdomen tightening with anticipation as you took his pants completely off, pulling them off of his ankles. You smiled at him as you shot him a quick wink, settling yourself on your knees in his spread out legs. He felt exposed under your intense gaze and a blush crept onto his cheeks as you very obviously looked at the small stain that had formed in the fabric of his underwear because he was leaking already. In his defense, it had been probably over a year since he had sex with anyone and while he wouldn’t admit it, he was desperate. Desperate to be touched, to be held, to be loved. Even if it was done by a stranger for just one night somewhere in the dead of the night in Paris.

You moved your hands up his thighs, feeling how tense he was made you smile. You were sure nobody ever has had Elvis in this kind of position and you kind of felt honored to be the first one. Usually, you wouldn’t be so bold with first-timers. You at least gave them some kind of warning first, tell them what you were into, the kind of role you liked in the bedroom. But God, it was like you could barely contain yourself when it came to him. Tough, dominant exterior… and you couldn’t wait to crack it. To break him.

When your hands disappeared into the legs of his boxershorts and your hand wrapped around his cock, he gasped as his fingers grasped onto the fabric of the blazer he was tied up with. You squeezed him in your palm softly as your hand moved up, fingertips caressing the head of his cock to spread some of the slick of his precum around. His eyes fluttered shut as you started jerking him off very slowly and softly, though the squeeze of your hand was firm. As you looked up at him and saw how his face was silently contorted in pleasure, you grinned devilishly to yourself and stopped your movements, pulling your hand out of his underwear.

‘‘I can always stop if you want me to,’’ you spoke casually and his eyes shot open, widening as he looked at you. He inhaled some air, clearing his throat as he shook his head, heat rushing to his face. ‘‘N-No.. P-Please.. Don’t stop,’’ he whispered, bucking his hips up a little and you just loved the desperation that was lingering on the back of his tongue. You could see how much it took for him to even say that, but you were sure you could have him begging before the sun came up. You flashed him a sweet smile, hooking your fingertips behind the hem of his boxershorts as you pulled them down without warning. Excitement bubbled in Elvis’ stomach as you took them all the way off and threw them behind you, moving yourself to sit on your ass in between his slightly spread legs, your dress riding up─when you put your legs over his thighs, pretty much trapping him on your bed, he had the perfect view of your lace panties. He goddamn nearly lost his mind and you hadn’t even done anything.

‘‘Have you ever been edged, Elvis?’’ You questioned sweetly as your nails caressed up his thighs, making goosebumps cover every inch of his skin. He inhaled a shaky breath as your hands creeped closer to his cock and no matter how much he anticipated the feeling of your hand wrapping back around him, the feeling never came. His eyes met yours as he shook his head, fingertips releasing around his blazer, gently grabbing onto the bars of your bed. ‘‘No.. What’s that?’’ He asked, the question making him feel inexperienced, as if he was about to have his virginity taken away. He hated that feeling, but when you gave him a sweet smile, he almost melted. He had no idea what it was about you that had this kind of effect on him, but he was excited to see what you had in store for him. Nervous too, but good nervous.

‘‘Hmm.. I think it’s better if you go in blindly to experience it. Do you trust me?’’ You asked him, your hands squeezing his thighs a little and he bit his lip, staring at you for a few seconds. He was trying to crack his brain as to what it could be what you were about to do, but he was so turned on and so desperate, that he nodded before he could even stop himself. Weirdly enough, he did trust you to some point. You had him tied up in your bed already and he was still alive─what could go wrong?

He hated himself for agreeing to this. He hated himself, he hated himself, he hated himself. Never ever in his life could he have predicted that he would be in a situation like this. A French showgirl jerking him off to the point of his orgasm nearing, but every time he was about to fall over the edge, you stopped your movements and pulled away your hands, making whine as he grabbed onto his blazer and the metal bars harder, chest heaving as he pushed his head back in the pillow. You were only on the third round and while you had given him a safe word, he hadn’t used it yet. He couldn’t, not when you’d go back and start all over again, making his body melt back into the bed and his brain turn into cotton.

You were smiling devilishly to yourself, arousal growing between your own thighs every time he whimpered and moaned, his toes curling. The head of his cock was red and angry, desperate for relief but you weren’t giving it to him. Closing your fingertips around the tip to mimick the feeling of him being inside of you, your movements were quick and relentless, your other hand massaging his balls skilfully. He lifted his head from the pillow, looking down at you as he breathed heavily through his teeth, jaw clenched. He tried to keep his head up to look at what you were doing, but it was like he no longer had control over his body and he couldn’t stop his head from falling back down. You had pressed your thighs against his, preventing him from closing his legs or moving them. He was writhing in the sheets, hands tugging at the blazer as he was so desperate to touch you, kiss you, fuck you. But you having your way with him was such a sinful pleasure and he didn’t wanted it to stop.

‘‘You’re doing so well, baby,’’ you hummed, praising him as he was moaning pathetically. The compliment had his heart leaping in his chest and he immediately felt his orgasm nearing once more, rolling his head to the side to look down at you. ‘‘P-Please, Y/N,’’

‘‘Please what?’’ you smiled innocently at him, tilting your hand as you slowed down your movements, letting them come to a halt once more when you felt him twitching in your hand and saw the muscles in his lower abdomen tightening. The longer you went on with your little game, the faster his orgasm would peek around the corner. ‘‘I.. I.. I wanna c-cum,’’ he whined with a stutter, his hips thrusting forward as he pushed the back of his head back in the pillow, imagining having your hand around him again. You looked at him and laughed softly, squeezing his balls softly, stealing another soft moan from him. ‘‘So soon?’’

He let out a weak laugh at that, shaking his head side to side in the pillow before he slowly opened his eyes and looked down at you. God, he looked so gorgeous with those flushed cheeks and hint of desperation in those blue eyes. It made your own arousal grow more and more, made you wanna push him further to the edge. ‘‘Three more rounds,’’ you told him and he swallowed thickly, his throat so dry it felt like he was swallowing knives. You gently wrapped your hand around him, slipping it up once as you pouted cutely at him. He licked his lips, hips slowly moving in your hand as he nodded. ‘‘Only three,’’ he said, trying to sound stern, but you didn’t even give him time to recover as you picked up your pace a bit more, making him fall back on the pillow once more. He had no idea if he could even survive three more rounds, but he just couldn’t get himself to use the safe word.

On the fifth round, he didn’t even recognize himself anymore. The moans and whines that were rolling off his tongue sounded foreign to him, his brain completely empty as the only thing he could focus on were your hands that were wrapped around him, doing tricks he never experienced in his 24 years of life. At some points, it felt like he was standing next to the bed, having an out of body experience as he was looking at the whole thing go down but as you stopped your movements once more when he was about to slip into euphoria, he slipped right back into the softness of your mattress. A hot tear rolled down his cheek as he let out an animalistic groan, wrists rubbing painfully against the fabric of his blazer because he couldn’t keep them still.

‘‘Please, please… p-please,’’ he cried out, his hips having a mind of their own as they kept thrusting into nothingness. Your laugh sounded so cruel and hot at the same time, but he wasn’t in the right mind to comment on it. He looked down at you, his cock twitching uncontrollably and desperately. ‘‘Can I cum? Please, I c-can’t.. I can’t anymore,’’

‘‘One more, chéri,’’ you smiled sweetly at him as you kicked the heels you were still wearing off and onto the floor, crawling out from between his legs to sit next to him. You leaned down and kissed his lips. It was only a peck, but he needily tried to chase your lips. He wanted more, he needed more. Since it was his first time, you decided to at least go a little easy on him. You pulled the knot out of the blazer sleeves, letting him lower his arms. He was breathing heavily, rubbing his arms a little to let them get used to the change of position. You quickly got up from the bed and he watched with curious eyes, smiling softly as you came back with a glass of water. Kissing his cheek, you handed it to him and he drank half of it before he put it on the bedside table. You gently pushed him forwards a little, slipping behind him so he’d be in between your legs. The position was foreign to him and it made him feel even more submissive than before, but he loved it.

He was too far gone to even think about how dominant he usually was, and he leaned against you, immediately kissing you back when you planted your lips on his again. His hands were running up and down your legs, squeezing the flesh of your thighs under his palms a little as he moaned when you sucked on his bottom lip. ‘‘I know you can do this, baby,’’ you smiled at him, running your fingers through his hair before you cupped his cheek. He leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering shut as he finally had a few minutes to catch his breath before you’d start your delicious torture on him for the last time. ‘‘You’ve done so good all night, baby boy. Are you ready to cum now?’’ You grinned at him and his fingers dug into your skin at the praise and use of the pet name, making his cock twitch needily. He immediately nodded his head, moaning softly as you pecked his lips once more before reaching your hand down, once more wrapping around him.

With his hands free now, he had no idea what to do with them. You had started out slow this time and while he appreciated it, it didn’t take him long to get needy and beg for you to go faster. You gave him what he wanted, your hands moving at a fast and steady pace and with every squeeze of your palm and every swirl of your thumb around his tip, he was getting closer. He threw his head against your shoulder, letting go of your legs to grab onto the sheets for dear life. ‘‘Oh.. F-fuck, p-please, bunny!’’ he was moaning desperately, the pet name slipping out without thinking as he begged for relief and this time, you were more than willing to give it to him. You snaked your free hand around his neck, fingertips holding onto his jaw as you looked down at him with a seductive grin on your face and the only thing he could do was stare at you with wild eyes, moaning in desperation as his hips tried to follow the movements of your hand. ‘‘You’re so pretty, Elvis darling,’’ you hummed, nuzzling the tip of your nose against his and his eyes fluttered shut at the compliment, bringing him closer to the edge. You giggled softly and looked down at his cock in your hand, your cheek pressing softly against his as you still held his jaw in your fingertips. Your grip wasn’t firm, but he liked the position and did not even dare to move away.

‘‘You wanna cum, baby?’’ You questioned sweetly and his knuckles were turning white with how hard he was squeezing your sheets, moaning as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. ‘‘Y-Yes.. P-Please, Y/N.. P-please,’’ he begged, toes curling, arching his back a little. You grinned and turned your head, pressing a tiny kiss against the shell of his ear. ‘‘Cum, chéri. Let it all go, my pretty boy,’’ you whispered in his ear and it was all he needed to hear. He was writhing against you, shameless moans and whines rolling over his tongue as he came undone in your hand─he was squeezing his eyes shut, seeing white spots that contrasted against the dark of his closed eyelids harshly, hips stuttering uncontrollably as he just kept spilling and spilling. In his brain, it felt like ages until he had completely emptied out, with the help of your hand milking all of him. His chest was heaving fast as if he had just ran a marathon, head leaning against your shoulder as a soft whine escaped him when you removed your hand, a big smile on your face.

‘‘Oh my God,’’ he breathed out and you laughed softly, biting your lip as you admired his face from up close while he was catching his breath. He looked so fucked out and so blissful, small grin tugging at his lips. You couldn’t wait to do this and so much more a few more times during his week in Paris─Daisy was going to lose her mind when you’d tell her all about it.

‘‘I need a damn cigarette,’’ he mumbled as you had gotten up from the bed and walked into your bathroom to wash your hands and grab a dampened wash cloth. Walking back to him, you laughed softly and dug your hand into the pocket of his pants, throwing his pack of cigarettes at him. He rolled onto his back, lighting a cigarette as he stared up at the ceiling. ‘‘You’re amazing,’’ he blew out some smoke, his eyes meeting yours as you hovered over him, cleaning him up. You grinned, shooting him a wink. ‘‘I know, baby,’’

He bit his lip at the pet name, bringing himself up to lean on his elbows to get a better view of you. ‘‘Are you free tomorrow? Well… today,’’

You looked at him as you raised an eyebrow, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He held out his cigarette in front of your face and you took a small drag from it, smiling softly at him. ‘‘I can be if you want to,’’ you hummed as you blew out the smoke and he sat up more, crashing his lips onto yours. You giggled softly, slipping one arm around his neck as you kissed him back.

‘‘I want to,’’ he breathed as he pulled back from the kiss, his forehead against yours. ‘‘Will you wait? Less than a year, and I’ll get out of the army,’’

You pulled back and raised both your eyebrows now, looking at him in surprise. You honestly hadn’t expected him to ask you this─you weren’t planning on letting this be a one time thing, but you thought you would’ve worked harder to keep him around. After all, he was the man. Could get anyone he wanted, had girls lining up in every corner of the world. What you didn’t know, was that you completely turned his world upside down. You brought out a side in him that he wasn’t even aware of having, but he wanted to explore that side of himself more. Together with you. You thought he was joking, until he spoke up again.

‘‘Wanna be your pretty boy,’’ he whispered, teeth sinking into his lower lip as heat rushed to his face. You nearly jumped his bones in that exact moment, but you wouldn’t forgive yourself for killing the poor boy on his first night in Paris. You smiled brightly, leaning forward to peck his lips.

‘‘I’ll wait,’’ you told him, tilting your head as you watched him lean back a little. ‘‘But only if you behave yourself with those German girls,’’ you warned him, playfulness lacing your tongue. He caught the playful tone, but he immediately nodded his head and smiled sweetly at you. ‘‘I promise,’’

You looked down at his pinky he was sticking out to you and laughed softly, hooking your own around it as your eyes met his, grin on your face.

‘‘Good boy,’’

[hattersarts]

if i may ask, how do you feel about people referencing your art and studying your style when trying to teach themselves how to draw?

hi sorry i never responded to this! i read it while i was busy and had some time to mull it over.

while im very flattered ppl would use my art as a study i think i would discourage it not bc of anything to do with copying any artists style or "stealing" in some way but because my art has a lot of mistakes!! studying my art is already distorting the subject matter by a factor of one and if this is a "how to draw" stage, there are far better ways to spend your time studying (still life, life drawing etc things that are directly from subject matters) than my own work

even as a second step away from subject matters i would use masters studies not my own work, and while this obviously depends on what you feel you goals of your work are (realism, draughtsmanship, cartooning etc) studying a broad range of styles and artists will give you way more knowledge than if you stick to JUST what artists who do the work you want to emulate or get close to do.

so that is to say, while im perfectly happy with ppl using or studying my art (very flattered actually!!) i don't think its actually a great tool in the learning how to draw stage, more when you've got grasps of fundamentals and can more easily pick out why i might make certain decisions rather then simply copying them or how i do a particular technique (like capturing likeness, or colours)

baiscally if anyone comes out with bad anatomy from studying my work its not my fault!!!!!!! this is my disclaimer!!!!

i was gonna include mannerism (the long baby jesus artists) in this answer because in my head for some reason i have them as an example of studying from previous paintings vs real life (as a counter movement to the renaissance) but i literally cant find a citation for this so idk where i got that idea.

[maximwtf]

“You should watch out more...”

art: @/thirdchildart on tiktok

Jonathan Sims  x Reader

words: 1020

google docs pages: 2.5

Warnings: Worms, trypophobia (mild), knife, mentions of blood, some spoilers for S1

opening: One of the worms bit you when your attention was elsewhere. It’s quite late, and the only other person still working is Jonathan. He’s the only one you can ask to remove the creature. 

AN// No pronouns used for reader! I was lowkey upset at how small amount of Jonathan fanfics I could find so I guess I’ll make them myself. I’m still getting the hang of personalities so do excuse me if anything is out of character. :”D 

                        “You should watch out more…”

It had happened so swiftly, there had been no time to react or stop it from happening. Once the nauseating creatures had made its way onto the table and close enough to your arms, what was there to be done? The worm had bitten you, and started to bury itself in your forearm. The sight alone was enough to make you gag, but the feeling of the act was something so nauseating it got a scream to leave your body. This specimen seemed to be a little faster than the other ones you had seen before. Disgusting, nevertheless. The scream didn’t alert anyone, not that it could have. There was no one else there to hear it, except for one man. Jonathan Sims, your superior.

The chair at your desk almost fell over from the harsh movement you had made whilst getting up. You didn’t care. What had felt like running, you made your way to his door and knocked on it frantically. You knew he hated when people disturbed him, especially if he was recording. But this must have counted as an emergency. There was no way you’d be able to get the worm out on your own, you were far too panicked. But even apart from that, it would be harder to do by yourself. Your free hand was far too shaky to be of any help.

It felt like the knocks had gone unheard, almost to the point where you had started to think the man must have fallen asleep or was just ignoring you on purpose. Though, just as you were about to open the door even without an invitation to do so, a ‘come in’ called out from the room behind the door. You did so, gladly.

Almost an irritated groan met you when the door behind you closed shut. “What is it?” Called out from the table, he looked tired but reasonably so, it was quite late. You wanted to tell him straight away, but the words were oddly stuck somewhere in your throat. “I got bit.” Was the final result from all the things to tell him that had gone through your mind. You saw his brows furrow, now more serious than irritated, but still somehow he looked to be both? Seriously irritated? No time for that. “The worms, one of them…it bit me and…”  You tried to explain, but the panic in your mind blocked any sensible thoughts from coming through. You pulled the sleeve of the bitten arm up, showing him instead of explaining. Jonathan slid closer to you, still sitting on his chair. He pulled the arm lower to examine it, a look of horror spreading on his face at the sight but he soon hid it. You'd say it was for your sake, but knowing him it was unlikely. “We need to get that out..” He murmured, turning to his desk and opening one of the drawers.

You leaned to sit on the edge of his table, trembling just enough to think standing wasn’t the best option. To your horror Jon pulled out a small knife from the drawer. “Are you serious?!” You asked, shock clear on your face. “If you have better options to suggest, now's the time to do that.” The man murmured, taking an oddly firm hold of your wrist, placing it down against the cool surface of the wooden table. Not that you were going to pull away, but now you couldn’t even if you wanted to. “No, I suppose I don’t…” You bit the inside of your lower lip, looking away from the hole that had formed on your forearm. Jonathan placed the blade around the hole, cutting in. It hurt, there was no way to hide that. No amount of biting your teeth together could have governed the hiss that left you, hands curling into fists to block the urge of pulling away. You knew more damage would have been done if you moved too much. “Stay still.” A harsh murmur that came from Jon. He was focused, but clearly at least a little frightened himself. He wasn’t a brave man, and you knew that. Soon enough he caught it, pulling it out and away. You gagged, not even trying to hide it, trembling as he let go of your wrist. Hand still placed over your wrist. Jon killed the thing, stomping on it after throwing it onto the floor. He'd done it with such emotion, that it almost looks like he has something personal with that specific specimen.

The wound still ached, bled a little from the damage the knife had done. “I’ll bandage it for you…I suppose.” Jonathan spoke after he had made sure that the worm was truly dead, not moving an inch from its resting place. The drawer opened again, a roll of bandages appearing into the archivist’s hands from it. He looked up at you, as if asking to straighten your arm. You did straighten it, he took a hold of your wrist again and pulled you closer. With somewhat careful movements he rolled the bandages on the wound and the hole, hiding them away. “You should watch out more..this isn’t the first day we’ve had these…parasites.” He mumbled while finishing the bandaging. “You shouldn’t even be here this late, leave as early as you can.” He sighed, letting go of your arm. “I know, I’ll be more careful.” You hopped off the table, a little less shaken by now. “In fact…I’ll head out now. I’ll just grab my coat. You could join me?” You asked, walking towards the door, feeling his eyes follow you. “Yes, I suppose…I should get going too.” He took a hold of his coat, hanging it over his arm. You nodded, leaving the door open when you exited the room. You could have sworn he looked more relieved after you left, as if he had been waiting for someone to ask to leave with him. And in all honesty, you doubted you would have left if he hadn't come along. The place was far too eerie nowadays to wander alone.