#i was.........practicing anatomy...........

[lewis-hem-theficreader]

Lil doodle I did while practicing anatomy, I'm learning a lot :D

[almost-daily-tf2-sniper]

day 63

it’s been a hot minute since i draw him topless

[spinzakuschicc]

@zeetheprofessionalprocrastinator thank u for this comment i didnt know i NEEDED until you made it AHHSJKS, so please everyone, enjoy some hand studies feat. hollow n hornet (aka thirsty hand appreciation post and a continuation of this)

[darkthare]

I’m uuuuh I’m uuuuh I did this for anatomy practice??

[fox-trot7]

BTAS doodles I drew ages ago

Me when me when Batman

[soapylaundry]

taps him on the shoulder with a comically large rubber mallet in my other hand

[ki1ldeer]

Something feels illegal about posting two days in a row but I’m reheating the section of my brain that knows how to draw ponies and I wanted to share idk 🤲

[bewitched-hours]

Hi, I hereby request you to do the Part 3 of Yandere! Alien Paycheck x Reader with Smut Please.

But its okay if you don't want to

Anyways Ty and Bye!

-Anon💗🖌️

"Open my shell? Why of course~" /ref Seriously though, Idm. I may feel like a nun writing smut but the best way to get better at something is through practice. I've also had @rhaine16 waiting for this and a couple more anons so now to throw this into the enclosure like I'm feeding lions- /j

Like the previous two times, the reader's pronouns are She/They (Which I totally didn't mess up on with part two-)

The day of the double moons was drawing closer and closer, reducing your time to decide.

You knew that you wanted to be with Elliot and Chance forever at this point but were you ready to see your new body in such... Action..?

You felt like this was a more difficult question than it probably should be. But your reactions to the topics were so adorable to Elliot and Chance with one of them always teasing you about it.

They knew it was a hard decision and assured you you had more than enough time to think on it, considering life on this planet could survive for hundreds of years, sometimes even thousands.

But you only grew more curious and needy as you thought about it.

It even got to a point where you'd cling to them and ask them to stay home with you which Chance had surprisingly more trouble saying no to.

But how could you blame them for finding your needy state adorable?

It wasn't until you finally decided to take home a book on anatomy that you began to understand.

Of course, you'd hide this from your boyfriends. The teasing that would ensue would probably turn your entire body red...

So you read it in secret, setting yourself alarms to make sure they wouldn't catch you studying your- and their- anatomy down to the reproductive system. It was surprisingly similar to how it worked back on earth but for some reason the antennae on top of one's head played a big role in it all.

For females, it apparently had the ability to surround oneself in some sort of scent to express lust and attract her partner(s)'s attention.

For males, it can be used to find a partner's sweet spots and help deliver immeasurable pleasure.

The parts themselves were interesting to see in pictures though.

Apparently you now had retractable teeth hidden in your fleshy walls in case any male is thinking of taking advantage of you.

Maybe that's why you hadn't found many cases of... Actually, maybe that's a topic for another time.

But the males? Their dicks were apparently split... Tentacles- it was straight up tentacle-esque dicks that were able to form together for the 'normal' way or split into little tentacles for hitting multiple spots at once.

The thought made a shiver run down your spine. Was it one of curiosity, horror or perhaps even some excitement? Why not all three?

Some days you'd find yourself trying to work off your ever-growing needy behaviour but to no avail. It would only ever drive you to climax and then leave you wanting more. It really was hard to ignore, especially with Chance and Elliot definitely knowing about it and just not bringing it up out of respect for you.

And even though you did read about how common it was on this planet to have sex regardless of relationship status- especially with the fact religion was nearly non-existent- you couldn't help but feel a guilty pleasure thinking about your boyfriends dressing fancy for a ceremony and then getting messy all for you...

One evening, they noticed you were a little more quiet than usual and had paused the movie you were all watching to check on you. You were all sandwiched together so Elliot and Chance could have equal parts of your affection without worries so they only had to sit up to give you a proper look over.

"[Reader], is something on your mind?" Chance's worries shone through his face so obviously with you...

"I've... Been thinking..." You started quietly, knowing they were fully focused on you as they held you with such gentle hands that made you guilty for what you were about to say next.

"I need you both to fuck this need out of me before I go crazy..." You barely choked out the words with a sheepish look on your face, watching them get flustered over your request before Elliot took a deep breath.

"Sweetheart, we could get you checked on if you feel something's wro-" He wanted to speak, clearly believing you must be mistaken with your wants but you cut him off with a passionate but quick kiss on the lips.

It satiated your grown need for them just a little but it was all the confirmation you needed for your decision. "I want you both inside of me... How we do it is of little concern to me but I need it..."

A silence feel amongst the three of you with Elliot and Chance giving each other a look before carrying you off. "Luckily it's already a double moon so we could consider the day our ceremony~" Chance chirped happily as you practically melted in Elliot's arms as he was having you in a bridal carry.

The heat of your collectively growing lust actively fed into the tension as you internally reminded yourself of what to expect.

Gubby was on the sidelines just meowing angrily until her automatic feeder went off and she practically dashed to the kitchen... She really just became a glutton ever since she got here...

Luckily you were too caught up in your own excitement to care.

And it wasn't like your boyfriends were gonna let you escape now.

By the time you've all gotten to the bedroom and undressed, your face flushed at the sight of them wasting no time to make sure you were comfortably squished between them with Elliot making sure to sing little praises into your ear from behind and Chance gently holding you at the front to let you watch his tentacles carefully slide into your entrance.

It was exciting, you were nervous but it felt so right that you let out small whimpers which only seemed to encourage them to go on.

You soon felt Elliots tentacles joining too, a small gasp escaping your lips as the two of them made sure to carefully look for all of the right spots. All the little sweet spots this species had at various points within your new reproductive system. And the way they felt around for them made you whine and whimper more for them.

It was hard for them not to lose themselves over how cute your noises were.

"You're doing perfect, [Reader]~ Just a little longer~" Elliot whispered softly, holding you in place to start marking your skin with little bite marks. "Our perfect little wife~ Just as it should be~"

You felt a short moment of bliss, followed by the two of them grinning. They've found the first one and you could no longer tell which one of them had which tentacle as one of them began caressing and teasing it to make you squirm in Chance's grip.

Your breath grew more desperate and sharp, their names coming out of your mouth like honey as you whined and begged for them not to stop.

Not like they were planning on that anytime soon though...

They could tell you were enjoying it, letting them feel around and practically abuse your sweet spots until you could only think about them.

"Look at you~ Taking us with such a pretty face~" Chance cooed, a low chuckle escaping him as you watched him with pleading eyes. "Fuck... I'm gonna lose my mind..."

It wasn't long by now until you could tell them apart inside you.

Chance was more eager and impatient but Elliot was the complete opposite. Patient and gentle.

It drove you insane and you weren't even ashamed to admit it.

They could tell how you melted under their care and revelled in your cries of pleasure and anticipation.

Then, just as you were getting close... They slowed down.

You whimpered and begged, looking at them both as you saw their playful smirks.

"Nuh-uh-uh~ We want to have some more fun with you before you get your release~" You heard Elliot whisper with a sudden hint of hunger lingering in his voice.

"As much as we would love to, you're simply too adorable like this and we gotta make sure you'll be as obsessed with us as we are with you~" Chance chuckled, the hunger in his gaze even more intense than you'd have guessed...

"No... Please..." You begged, squirming as you tried to get them to move again. Instead, they lightly played with your sweet spots to make sure you'd be driven to the edge but never truly feel the sweet release of that building orgasm.

They were being cruel on purpose at this point. But before you could protest, Chance began nibbling at the other side of your neck while Elliot simply moved his head down to do the same.

They were both leaving their marks on you while toying with your pleasure.

"We've gone all this way... So, who do you belong to~?" Chance's words snapped you back out of your pleading state. "Don't be shy~"

You almost didn't hesitate, knowing what they wanted to hear. "You guys~ I belong to you..." You whimpered, your mind being filled with nothing but that chase for pleasure.

Filled with nothing but them...

"Good girl~ But we want our names~" Elliot's sudden assertiveness almost made your arousal deepen.

This time, you didn't hesitate. "It's you~! Elliot and Chance-" you let out a sharp gasp, feeling your sweet spots being attacked again.

"Come on~ Say it again~ We didn't quite hear it~" Chance chuckled, listening to you whimper some more as you were driven to desperation.

"Elliot~! Chance~! I belong to you~!" You finally managed to get it out fully, quickly feeling their tentacled dig deeper into you and stimulating all of your sweet spots at once to finally allow the built up pleasure to release in a cry of ecstasy.

Unfortunately... Something told you this was just the beginning of a long night with your new husbands...

Not like you minded it though~

If y'all ask for any more I might have to start a series with a Masterpost lmfao (Like I'm not already planning to do for the Mina stories)

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[rainrot4me]

What do you think the creeps would like and not like to be gifted (ALSO I LOVE UR WRITING SM ITS SCRUMPTIOUS OMGG🫶)

✦ . jeff the killer

✓ Likes:

Weapons. A custom knife? He’ll squeal like a little girl.

Leather jackets or gloves. He’ll act casual, but he’ll wear it every day.

Something handmade but unpolished—he actually loves when things look a little messy and real. Like a charm bracelet with crooked beads? Top-tier.

✗ Dislikes:

Anything “cutesy” or frilly. You give him a heart-shaped pillow and he’s like, “You sure this was meant for me, or…?”

Overly practical stuff like socks or planners.

Anything that smells too “clean” (floral candles, bath bombs).

✦ . ticci toby

✓ Likes:

Hoodies. Oversized, soft, preferably in muted colors.

Handmade stuff. If you knit him a scarf? He melts.

Fidget toys or stim-friendly items.

A photo of you two in a cute frame. He’ll act awkward about it, but he cherishes it.

✗ Dislikes:

Cologne or grooming kits. He doesn’t like attention to his appearance.

Fragile gifts he might break on accident. It makes him feel guilty.

Loud or flashy things—think: clunky jewelry, neon clothes, etc.

✦ . eyeless jack

✓ Likes:

Vintage books, especially anatomy or medical texts.

A sturdy, high-quality knife (but a nice one, not flashy).

Candles—especially earthy, smoky, or spiced scents.

Comfortable blankets or bedding. Bonus if it smells like you.

✗ Dislikes:

Gag gifts or anything meant to be “funny.”

Jewelry—he doesn’t wear it and doesn’t want to start.

Anything overly scented or floral. It messes with his senses.

✦ . masky (tim wright)

✓ Likes:

Flasks, lighters, survival gear.

A playlist or burned CD labeled with your handwriting.

Soft, quiet clothing like henleys, worn-in sweaters.

Coffee beans, dark chocolate, or whiskey. Something bitter.

✗ Dislikes:

Expensive gifts. He doesn’t feel comfortable being “spoiled.”

Bright colors or flashy designs. He likes things muted and practical.

Plush toys—he just doesn’t get it.

✦ . hoodie (brian thomas)

✓ Likes:

Cameras, film, or anything vintage tech.

Leather-bound notebooks or journals.

Framed black-and-white photos (bonus if it’s of you).

Gloves or gear with function over fashion.

✗ Dislikes:

Novelty stuff (funny mugs, gag shirts). He has no patience for it.

Over-personalized items—he’s private, doesn’t like his name on things.

Anything glittery or sparkly (he’s annoyed).

✦ . kate the chaser

✓ Likes:

Combat boots, zip-up vests, and gear that blends function with edge.

Knives (the sleek, pocket-sized kind).

A charm bracelet with charms you have picked out to mean significant things.

Practical gifts—if it’s something she can wear or use while hunting, she’s into it.

✗ Dislikes:

Super girly gifts, unless it’s ironic.

Anything fragile or breakable—it’s going to end up destroyed.

Stuffed animals. She’ll give it to Toby.

✦ . ben drowned

✓ Likes:

Limited edition video games or merch.

Energy drinks, snacks, and custom controller skins.

A hoodie or t-shirt of your preferred band or fandom. He likes to “claim” it.

Headphones or game-related accessories.

✗ Dislikes:

Books (unless it’s a game lore compendium).

Anything “mature” or fancy—he’ll side-eye a leather wallet like it insulted him.

Decor that isn’t his taste (he hates minimalism).

✦ . clockwork

✓ Likes:

Leather jackets, boots, or bold accessories.

A locket or necklace with something sentimental inside.

Blood-red lipstick or perfume with a spicy, musky scent.

Polaroids of the two of you in chaotic moments.

✗ Dislikes:

Soft pastel anything. She’ll laugh but never wear it.

Jewelry with dainty chains or tiny charms.

Anything that tries too hard to be “domestic.”

✦ . laughing jack

✓ Likes:

Candy—always. Especially weird or imported stuff.

Chaotic plushies (think: ugly-cute ones).

Colorful art supplies or glitter bombs.

Anything handmade and eccentric. If it looks cursed? Even better.

✗ Dislikes:

Gift cards. He’ll take it personally.

“Normal” gifts (socks, books, mugs). He’ll fake sob and ask why you hate him.

Food that isn’t sweet—he will not eat it.

✦ . slenderman

✓ Likes:

Elegant items: fountain pens, rare books, vintage watches.

Gifts with effort behind them—poems, letters, a framed drawing.

Things that match his space: black, silver, clean lines.

✗ Dislikes:

Cheap, mass-produced things.

Anything gaudy or neon.

Noise-based gifts like musical cards—immediate banishment.

꩜ .ᐟ

[riooooooooo]

Anatomy practice with Karmor cuz Karswitch drawing didn't go well (i made Hipswitch look like a baked bean)

[mirazartsstuff]

I did not want to draw the outfit

So I turned into muscle anatomy practice with some flare

[tiercelgreen]

A couple Pernese Dragon sketches to get a better grasp on their anatomy. I'm not 100% on the wings (they look a tad strange imo and I need to practice fingered wings again) but i'm happy with the more detailed fullbody.

Inked these with a Speedball Straight penholder, B6 nib, and teal Speedball india ink. Initial sketch was done in purple pencil.

[lilcuspids]

caitvi anatomy practice day 12 with only caitlyn cuz i need to study for my trigonometry test crying

[grim-kitkat]

Just a quick drawing I did for fun. Also more anatomy practice

[noirscript]

Inked Possession

part 2.

Pairing: Yandere Artist x Erotic Book Writer!Reader

Note: Tags and warnings later! At work TuT I'll fix my recent stuffs later after work TuT

It begins with a laugh.

Not yours. And definitely not Eleazar’s.

The gallery hums with polite chatter and soft music, all of it bleeding into the undercurrent of hushed awe and too-hungry eyes. It’s a private preview of Anatomy of Devotion,

Eleazar’s newest exhibit—his obsession rendered in brushstrokes. You. In shadows and warm light. Draped in his shirt, curled into his bed, arched across canvas like you belonged there more than in your own skin.

And you do, don’t you?

You feel exposed, not because of the nudity or the rawness of each painting, but because you know he painted them while you slept, dreamed, moaned. The audience doesn't see that part. But he does. And you do. And it burns beneath your clothes.

From across the room, you sense his eyes on you. He’s dressed in black again—casual in a way that still looks powerful, shoulders straight and jaw tense. His dark hair is slightly messy, a curl brushing the edge of his cheekbone. He watches you with an intensity that borders on unnerving. You offer a small, reassuring smile, a signal: I'm fine. I'm just talking.

He doesn’t smile back.

You turn to excuse yourself politely from the nearby crowd, but someone steps in.

“This one,” a voice says beside you, male, amused, too relaxed for your comfort. “Damn. That’s my favorite.”

You follow his gaze and immediately regret it. He’s pointing to the massive oil painting of you in Eleazar’s studio chair, one leg folded under the other, wearing nothing but his ruined, paint-smeared shirt. The same one that now hangs like a shrine in your shared bedroom.

“The way you’re looking in this?” the assistant says, sipping his champagne with a crooked grin. “Like someone just dragged you out of a fever dream. Fucking raw. He nailed it.”

You offer a tight smile, holding your glass a little too firmly. “He captures what matters.”

He leans in slightly, voice dropping as if you’re already conspiring. “If I had someone like you in my studio, I’d never stop painting. Or touching. I mean… ever considered posing for someone else?”

The comment slides across your skin like rot. You pull away a fraction, breath caught in your throat—but it’s already too late.

The man doesn't notice. “I’ve got a setup. Nothing big, but I can be a lot more fun than your guy.”

The flute nearly slips from your hand.

It doesn’t shatter. It doesn’t have to.

Because Eleazar is suddenly behind him.

The temperature of the room changes. The quiet turns heavy. The gallery’s background noise continues—oblivious—but here, where Eleazar stands, the world becomes razor-sharp.

The assistant laughs nervously, stepping back as if he’s only now aware of the storm forming inches from his face. “Oh—hey. Didn’t see you there, man. Just a joke. Your wife’s stunning, really. You must be proud.”

Eleazar’s smile is slight and sharp. It looks polite. It isn’t.

“I’m always proud of what’s mine,” he replies, calm and low, too calm. “But you strike me as the kind of man who doesn’t understand boundaries until he’s bleeding.”

The man blanches, and you can practically smell the fear start to rise off him. You reach out to place a hand on Eleazar’s arm, grounding, a silent plea not to cause a scene here.

He doesn’t need to.

He takes your hand instead and guides you through the crowd, slow and silent, his grip firm but not harsh. You follow without protest.

---

The drive home is quiet. Not cold—just sharpened into something that leaves no room for distractions.

Eleazar keeps one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh, flexing every now and then like he’s holding back something primal. His jaw is tight, his profile locked in shadow, and even the air feels afraid to stir.

You try once, softly. “Eleazar—”

“Don’t.”

You flinch. Not because of the volume—he doesn’t raise his voice—but because of the meaning behind it. He rarely interrupts you. When he does, it's because he's trying not to unravel.

“I could smell him on you,” he says after a while, his voice calmer now but laced with restrained venom. “Like a stain.”

“He didn’t touch me,” you whisper. “He was being inappropriate, yes, but I didn’t engage.”

“You laughed.”

“I didn’t mean to. It was uncomfortable. I was trying to be polite—”

“You laughed.” His knuckles tighten around the wheel, the leather creaking. “Do you know what that does to me? Hearing that sound, knowing it wasn’t for me?”

You stay quiet.

“I won’t punish you for his stupidity,” he says, more to himself than to you. “But I will remind you what your smile belongs to. What you belong to.”

---

He doesn’t even wait for you to enter the apartment. He leans down as he opens the car door, presses a soft kiss to your temple, and murmurs, “Studio. Now.”

You obey.

Inside the space where he paints you daily, the scent of varnish and oil hits you like memory. It’s thick in the air—intimate, private. You notice immediately the cloth and basin of warm water, the soft silk rope, and the blindfold folded neatly on his stool.

It’s not a punishment.

It’s a lesson.

He enters a moment later. Locks the door behind him. Doesn’t say a word as he moves behind you and begins unzipping your dress. It slips from your shoulders like surrender, pooling at your feet.

You don’t fight him when he lifts you into the studio chair—the one you’ve posed on countless times, the one he’s immortalized you in. He moves slowly, methodically, securing your wrists behind the chair with the silk rope, then spreading your ankles to tie them to the legs.

The blindfold is the last thing. He slides it on gently, fingertips brushing your temples.

Darkness falls.

You can feel the shift in the air as he steps back. The silence lengthens. Then you hear it—the sound of his fingers dipping into paint.

When his touch returns, it’s cold and deliberate. He draws a line across your collarbone, slow and thick.

“This one’s black,” he says near your ear. “Do you remember what black means?”

You nod, throat dry. “Mine.”

“Good girl.”

He paints over your chest, dragging his fingers in spirals around your nipples until they harden. Down your ribs, across your stomach, then along your thighs—everywhere but where you need him most. He avoids your core deliberately, punishing you without pain.

The next color is red. “This is for shame. For forgetting—even briefly—that your smile is sacred. That it belongs only to me.”

The red stains your inner thighs, the underside of your breasts, your throat.

Then comes gold. He doesn’t speak as he paints a streak from your heart to your navel, a line of reverence amid chaos.

You sit there—tied, blindfolded, dripping in black and red and gold. Helpless. Waiting.

And still, he doesn’t touch you there.

He disappears briefly, and when he returns, it isn’t with fingers or paint.

It’s with warm cloth.

He parts your thighs and presses the soft towel to your center, cleaning you with the kind of care that borders on sacred. Each pass is gentle, almost worshipful, as he murmurs, “You think I’d risk your body for a lesson? No. I’d never hurt what’s mine.”

The moment the cloth drops away, so does his restraint.

He goes to his knees, and when his tongue finally touches you, it’s not tentative.

He eats you like a starving man—devouring every moan, every shudder, holding your thighs in place as you buck and cry out against the ropes. He doesn’t stop, even when you beg him to, even when you sob that you’re close.

Especially then.

He forces it out of you like confession, like sin.

When you fall apart, trembling and sobbing, he rises slowly. His belt unfastens. His zipper follows. You can hear the scrape of fabric, the rustle of movement, and then he’s there—pressing into you, filling you with a single, brutal thrust.

Your scream echoes.

He groans above you, voice rough with need. “You’ll never laugh for anyone but me. You’ll never write another smile that doesn’t belong to me.”

“I won’t,” you cry, already breaking again.

“You’ll write me into every draft. Every kiss. Every fuck.”

“Yes—yes—only you—”

His pace is merciless. The chair creaks beneath your bound frame as he drives into you, each thrust branding, each moan a claim carved into your bones.

You lose track of how many times you come. It blurs into rhythm—him, you, the ropes, his voice, the heat. You sob out his name, not from pain, but from surrender.

When he finishes, it’s with a growl pressed into your neck.

He unties you slowly. Carefully. Then carries you to bed like something fragile and beloved, laying you down in clean sheets even as your skin still bears his paint.

You don’t need to speak. His hands say it all. So do the kisses he trails across each bruised thigh, each paint-streaked breast.

---

The next morning, your coffee is hot, the sheets are clean, and your laptop is open.

There’s a new document saved on your desktop.

Lee – Part I

Beneath it, in the document’s header, a single note:

“Only I get to read you, darling. Write accordingly.”

[bwoahtastic]

The thing about oscar in a tight shirt but i’m making it about the tattooverse because that’s all i ever think about…

Anyways, we established that oscar despite being heavily tattoo-ed he pretty much always covers up most of them wearing long pants and a long sleeve shirt or hoodie at all times. I love the idea of max, lando, charles and carlos all joining a crusade to try and get oscar to take his shirt off… it starts off as separate quests but eventually they unite forces in the name of seeing oscar shirtless more often. They all have different techniques that they’ve worked on perfecting over time:

Lando: Initially, Lando’s technique is the classic “please, please, please, please, please.” approach, but that just makes oscar look at him exasperated, annoyed and endeared all at the same time. After they’ve been together for a while he learns that the easiest way to get Oscar out of his shirt is to break out his little texters and ask oscar to colour in his patch work sleeve and oscar instantly rolls is sleeve up, when lando gets past the elbow oscar usually takes his shirt off unprompted because he doesn’t want Lando to get the markers on his shirt.

Charles: Earlier in their relationship charles is most commonly the one to use the “oops i spilled something on you, now you have to take off your shirt” approach, he’s more than happy to play up the clumsiness if it means getting to see oscar shirtless. After they’ve been together for a while when charles has become more confident (and has destroyed a few too many of Oscar’s shirts), he changes tactic. He loves to ask Oscar to pose for him as a live reference to sketch/paint… and of course he needs to practice anatomy and need to see oscar’s chest or the whole exercise is pointless!

Carlos: surprisingly Carlos is actually the one who has the easiest time getting Oscar’s shirt off, all it takes once their together is a little bit of negging and before oscar ahs made the conscious decision his shirt is on the floor and carlos is laughing at him and pressing kisses to the back tattoo he did for osc. He likes Carlos now (obviously)... maybe even loves him, but that doesn’t mean he’s immune to their years of rivalry.

Max: It actually never occurs to max to try and get oscar to take his clothes off more until the other three unionize. Not because he dones’t find oscar attractive but BECAUSE he finds oscar attractive, and that means taking oscar as he is with his weird little sun safety habits and constant comfort hoodies. The second the others bring it to his attention, though he is absolutely invested in winning at this game. He tries several tactics but social navigation has never been his strong suit and eventually he gets sick and tired of the plots and just asks oscar to please take his shirt off. Oscar happily does. Turns out just asking normally never once occurred to the other three.

PLS I LOVE MY IDIOTS SO MUCH OKAY?? NOT A SINGLE BRAINCELL AND ITS SO MANY OF THEM

Oscar wearing long sleeved shirts and hoodies for comfort and sun protection and he is pretty clueless to how desperate his boyfriends are to see him shirtless!! No clue that they have a separate gc called "free Oscar's chest 2025" where they form (incredibly stupid) plans to make it happen ksks

Lando just going "please please please please please' but also not actually specifying what he wants and look, he isnf complaining when Oscar goes "sure baby" and kisses him cos he thinks that's what Lando wants sksks. But pls Lando colouring Oscar's tattoos and he takes off his shirt then so lando will have better access! Also him stealing kisses from Lando as he colours<3

Charles alwsys spilling stuff on Oscar and it works like a charm! But then he notices that even as he tries to be nice, oscar is getting a little annoyed with how many of his shirts are ruined although he would never snap at Charlie for that! But charles switching tactics to have Osc model because not only is he shirtless, he is shirtless for a long time then and let's charles rub oil on him as he claims it makes it easier as a reference (he just likes pretty abs to be shiny okay)

Plss sksks Carlos just knows how to get Oscar just the right amount of annoyed and ready to prove him wrong and if that ends up with Oscar shirtless? Well that's just a bonus. Oscar being a little flustered about how he reacts to carlos sometimes, but pls Calros kissing the back tattoo he did on Oscar, murmuring about Oscar being his favorite work of art as Oscar is just blushing profusely

Max not really understanding why Oscar needs to be shirtless if Oscar likes being cosy and/or protected from the sun but Max is nothing if not competitive! Max not really sure what to do so he just goes "oscar can you take your shirt off" and oscar shrugs and does just that because why not? And Max just beams happily and snuggles up to him, gently tracing the tattoos Oscar has and just enjoying skin to skin and Oscar is just so soft<3

The others are SHOCKED because what do you mean, asking Oscar works??? You don't need to trick him???

Absolutely no braincell just vibes for all of them wksk