#this popped into my head so I had to sketch it :''')

[skellagirl]

i'm normal about them

[dreamymajesty]

Hazy reflection

[selvenus]

I already made a polish Miku in a Lublin region dress, but I also had a mikufied version of the same dress sketched out literally months ago so I had to draw her again!

A silly bonus under cut

In national ethnographic museum in Warsaw there's a HUGE Miku statue!! I love it so much a huge W, I hope I can see her in person someday BUT I have some personal beef with it because of the costumes they give her, It's not that serious but this idea popped up in my head and I just had to draw it

[fraugwinska]

Follow up idea to the person who suggested that lovely birthday doodle request,, Reader who can draw proficiently as a hobby and often sketches folks at the hotel in their sketch book. Alastor is a bit offended that no matter what it seems as though he’s no where in this book, when they retire for the night he brings it up almost as if he’s jealous and they laugh at him. He’s upset because now he feels as though they are making fun of him until they retrieve another book and turns out they draw him in privacy (he’s so special he has his own book) It’s so cute too theres little heart doodles and them holding hands everywhere

Darling, how can I say no to 1) you *handheart* and 2) to such a cute pürompt? Make way, guys, gals and non-binary pals, here comes the fluff-queen!

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

Pictures of You

“ME NEXT! ME NEXT!” You tugged your sketchbook out of Niffty's small but surprisingly strong fingers. The little demon giggled and almost fell from your shoulder, making you laugh.

“Niff, any more doodles of you and I'd have to pay you royalties. Also, Angel asked first.”

You grinned, turning another page of the thick binder to an empty canvas and twirled the coal pen in your hand. Husk had just involuntarily changed his sleeping position from 'face in hands' to 'face on counter', groaning at the impact, so you wanted to start anew. Niffty resumed to braid your hair – you often let her just do what she wanted, she had a knack for it anyways – and huffed. “You only want to draw him because he can do impossible poses.” “Well, he is flexible.”

“Comes with the job, sweet cheeks.” Angel, who had entered through the door, grinned at you, taking his pink heart-shaped sunglasses off while he walked behind you, leaning over your shoulder. “Aw, toots, you really are talented, Husky looks like a snack there. Can I have that when 'ya done?”

“Have what, my effeminate fellow?” Angel jumped as Alastor materialized behind him without warning, releasing a startled 'Jesus Christ on a cracker!' while his lower set of arms clung onto your tensed shoulders. The radio demon laughed heartily, bending over slightly to look past Angel's head. He craned his neck and reached with his cane, forcing you to lean sideways so he could examine what you were drawing.

You flinched at the contact with the strangely warm metal, but didn't look up from the page. You only gripped the black coal tighter, feeling it beginning to crack. Alastor hummed in what sounded almost fond praise, giving a brief tap to Husk's shape on the paper.

"Marvelous! What a talent you have." he proclaimed. "Although I have to ask again, my dear, how come you never draw me? Surely I could..."

You lifted a finger, face scrunched up in concentration and shook your head, eyes firmly on the almost finished sketch. Alastor clicked his tongue in a displeased way, clawed fingers impatiently tapping the microphone at the end of his cane.

"Really, dearest. I have a great interest for-"

"Hold on!"

"-a unique idea of the possibilities-"

"Done!"

As you finished, you stretched your cramped hand, setting down the charcoal on the armrest of the red plush sofa and rubbing your fingers to get rid of the black stains. You ripped the paper out of the sketchbook and handed it to Angel, carefully avoiding Alastors burning eyes and ignoring the angry static pops sizzling on your skin.

"There you go, Ange. You can lock it in with a little coat of hairspray, otherwise it will smudge easily."

You hastily stood up, letting Niffty tumble down your back onto the sofa with a wild giggle while you quickly assembled your things. You saw Alastor open his mouth and interrupted whatever speech he might've wanted to deliver you, your heart racing and mouth unusually dry.

"Oh, would you look at the time, I promised Charlie to get laundry done by the evening, I better get going. Maybe another time, yeah? Okay, bye!"

You were already through the door by the time he had registered you leaving, mouth half-open and ready to protest against whatever injustice he felt you had done him. His eyebrow twitched slightly at your retreating figure, eyes flickering between the corner you disappeared around and Angel Dust, the latter laughing mockingly at the deer.

"Aw shucks, failing again, deer daddy? What is it now, the fifth time she blew 'ya off?"

"The seventh.", Niffty corrects him, scratching on the black spot where you had set the charcoal in between your work. Alastor gave her a sour expression, while Angel leaned back, eyeing the sketch of his subject of interest with lovingly.

"Maybe she took 'ya by heart, Smiles. Don't 'ya always say 'ya got a face for radio only?"

***

Alastor was fuming.

Everyone was in that damn book, everyone. And yet, he was nowhere in it to be found.

In his opinion he was far superior in beauty of aesthetics then, for example, Angel Dust, or Vaggie. Hell, Husk had even made an entry, and all he did was lay around and drink himself into oblivion. Why would you take the time to sketch these nobodies in detail instead of him? Was he that unimportant to you, did you deem him that unworthy? Or was this your subtle way of making fun of his appearance, his laughable predicament of being a predator in a prey body?

He thought he'd have been generous enough not to reprimand you, or destroy that damned book all together after all this time. It was your luck that he had developed a strange fondness of you. Alastor only ever bothered himself with a few souls since his arrival in hell, and his encounter with you was a happy coincidence indeed. You were so much less annoying, so much more quiet and respectful than most of the demons around him, with your charcoal pen behind your ear and a keen eye for beautiful things that you turned into artworks like it was your second nature.

And even though you've always seemed to take a liking to him, his patient questions for a sketch, a portrait or just anything of him was met by you with dismissiveness, awkward excuses or outright evading, only ever drawing other sinners, even the cursed piglet Angel called a pet. But never, never him.

This couldn't go on any longer. He would talk to you about it, and either you would draw him willingly or you would draw nothing at all.

Your room was located only three corridors down his own suite, right across of a broken down door. Despite the late hour you had left the door cracked open, music faintly streaming through it along the orange light of your desk lamp. Which meant you were still awake. Still working. Still drawing.

The door made no sound when he pushed it open, carefully peeking his head inside. He was right, your back was hunched over your desk, completely lost in your work while your voice hummed along with the little melody from the radio.

The radio he had gifted you. He snapped his fingers and the music screeched loudly before coming to a stop, the radio dying instantly and making you jump in your seat.

"JESUS!" You whipped your head around, clutching your heart. He gave his best charming smile, red eyes narrowing in on you.

"No dear, it's just me." he smiled maliciously and closed the door behind him, it clicking ominously shut. Locked. You laughed awkwardly, brushing a loose strand of hair out of your face and hastily closed the thick, black sketchbook on the desk shut, a different one than the one from before. A new one. Another cursed one without him in it, surely.

"Haha, thank satan, I'm not dressed to meet the son of god." you quibbed, avoiding his gaze and twirling your pencil, something you always did when you were nervous.

He didn't join into your joke, instead he walked over to your dresser, where the filled sketchbook from before laid. Open, showing a detailed drawing of Keekee stretching in front of the fireplace. The blasted cat was the last straw.

"Why," Alastor spoke sharply, barely registering his antlers sprouting in angry cracks, "are there any and every sinners and creatures depicted in that... doggone, ridiculous thing?".

His words were spat with so much anger he missed your scared and confused look when you pushed your chair back, almost tripping and scrambling to get away. "What? Alastor, I..."

He hit the book once, almost tearing the thick parchment. "And not one mention of me? You have no idea how utterly vexing and insulting it is to feel ignored, or rather unnoted! What did I do, oh do tell, dear, that makes you think of me so below you that you just outright forget my existence?!"

Again, he hit the book, feeling it starting to rip from the amount of pent up frustration tightening his grip. But it did feel good, immensely so, to take it out on the damn thing he would have shredded weeks ago, if you didn't enjoy it so much.

"N-Nothing, you really don't... you don't understand...", you laughed nervously, eyes too pleading, too soft for his liking, as if you mocked him or worse: Pitied him. The thought alone fueled his anger further.

"Then I advise you to make me understand, my darling.", he growled, shoes scratching on the wooden floors with each step as he neared you, pressing you against the desk. "Because otherwise, I have no inhibitions to incinerate every single one of these god damn..."

"I draw you all the time. In your own book."

You grabbed the sketch book from the desk and thrust it in his face, spouting more nonsense with teary eyes that went deaf through his ears, only glaring at the cover and then opening it, ready for anything.

Nothing. Nothing but him.

There was no mention of anyone else.

There was nothing but him. His face. Portraits, stills, sketches, whole sceneries, doodles even.

Pages and pages full of his own features, his eyes looking back at him, so carefully captured in coal lines that his head reeled.

There he was, walking in long strides through the lobby, hair perfect and suit straight, the drawing so detailed it could've been a photography. On the other side was a picture of him, his eyes narrowed, showing no emotion as he stared down at the hotel papers in his hand. The next page, he was captured in a fight with that buffoon Sir Pentious, his is mouth cracked in an evil smile, claws stretched and ready to snap the snakes' airship in half.

And ever in between those artworks: Little doodles, as if drawn with an absent mind, of him and you. Holding hands. Embracing each other. Laughing together. Gazing into each others eyes. Silly hearts all around them.

Alastor almost dropped the book and the shakily uttered your name, for once truly at a loss for words.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Alastor...", he finally heard your muttering, voice trembling with tears. "I didn't know how... I was just... so... so embarrassed, and..."

Embarrassed. The absolute absurdity of it all.

Here he had been, worried you found him beneath the beauty you held in such esteem, wounded even so much as to bring out this unjustified anger. The fool he was. He was an idiot to have not considered the other possible explanations for your reticence.

Slowly, carefully, as if you'd spook and run should he move too fast, Alastor wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, still holding the book safely in his hand, pressing it into your back. At his will, his shadow lifted a hand and turned the radio on once again, a low hum resounding from the speakers as the soothing, quiet music continued.

"Mon cœur, the unnecessary pain you caused us both. And yet, I'm the one who has to apologize.", he said with an honesty he rarely spoke with. "We're both, evidently, quite hopeless. No use in keeping these feelings and words unsaid any longer then, hm? Can you forgive this old fool?"

You stared at him bewildered, at a loss for words yourself, before a relieved smile cracked your worried frown. Shiny tear streaks were running over your reddening cheeks, he wiped them off your face with a soft swipe of his thumb.

"Of course... As long as I can continue drawing you." You chuckled and pushed your face into his chest, Alastor was more than certain to hide the flush of your cheeks. He chuckled, gripping the book in his hands tighter as he buried his nose in your hair. You smelled like paper, paint and charcoal. And underneath it all lingered the scent of something new, yet familiar. Something... very much like him.

"Draw the both of us like this to perfection, darling, and that would be a deal worth to agree on."

[cherrycolored-punk]

Muse

pairings: artist!Eddie x fem!reader

author’s note: re-posting, originally posted on my previous blog @strangemagicc 🖤 this was going to be a series but for now this is a standalone blurb until inspo strikes

warnings: smutty smut smut, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (Eddie and reader receiving), slight praise kink, let me know if I missed anything!

w/c: 5.6k

The room was cold, the walls white, a little medicinal. Light cascaded through the windows, hues of tangerine and gold creating a warmth against the expanse of your exposed flesh.

Your head rested against your shoulder, arms pressed into the wooden stage below you, legs posed to the side elongating your body. You could feel their eyes on you, pensive and concentrated but you focused your gaze on the wall behind them. Studied the cracks in the plaster and the splatters of paint from classes before.

The minutes ticked by, slow and tedious. You shifted your gaze to the left, eyes meeting intense chestnut. He smiled at you, small and polite before looking back at his canvas. Lines formed on his forehead, eyebrows raised high as he captured the curve of your waist and the flare of your hips. He was handsome, conspicuously so. Curly auburn hair tied into a low bun, black t-shirt clinging to the muscle of his tattooed arms.

A walking canvas, perfect lines and shadows.

Heat rose to your chest, blossomed in your cheeks and your breathing became more shallow.

Your eyes darted away from him, back to the wall behind him and you remained focused refusing to linger a moment longer on the curve of his jaw or the cluster of freckles on his nose. Worried that he’d noticed you noticing him. Because you had noticed him plenty of times. On campus and in class. Sitting in the back of your art history sketching in his journal as the professor droned on and the minutes ticked by slowly. Sometimes he’d catch you staring, give you a smirk or a small wave to let you know that weren’t as inconspicuous as you thought. Each time heat would rise to your cheeks, eyes darting away. And you would be embarrassed if you hadn’t caught him just as fixated, just as hypnotized.

A timer began to beep alerting the class that you were due for a break, that your pose would change once you returned. You pushed off your hands, stretched your shoulders, and rolled your wrists before grabbing for your robe. The plush fabric was a welcomed comfort, cotton soft against your skin.

Students talked amongst themselves, reviewing each other’s work, their creations of you but no one spoke directly to you.

Over the last few months, you began modeling for the figure art class to make a few extra bucks, to make your way through college, and to get your own art degree.

At first, it was awkward, you were unsure of yourself and how to place your body. Uncomfortable having everyone’s eyes on you for an hour, studying the flesh of your stomach and the stretch marks on the curve of your ass. But it became easier, almost second nature to be bare in front of mostly strangers.

You continued stretching your neck as you walked towards your bag for a snack hidden in the depths of your purse. You needed something, your hunger nearly loud enough for those around you to notice. The granola bar was sweet against your lips, apple and cinnamon. A little stale from sitting in your cabinet too long. Still, you hummed as you devoured it, eyes closed and savoring each bite.

“That should be your next pose,” a deep voice stated from above you. You opened your eyes, chocolate brown looking back at you with a smirk. A whisper of a dimple on his cheek.

“What would you call it? Glutton?” You joked back, taking another bite to cover the way your breath hitched when you got a whiff of his cologne.

“Hmm, I was thinking ecstasy. Something about how your eyes roll whenever you take a bite seems fitting.” You chuckled at his words, heat blossoming in your chest at his sentiment.

Ecstasy.

He popped a grape into his mouth from the bag he was holding, thumb lingering on his lips as he eyed you. A mischievous glint in his eye.

“I’m Eddie, by the way,” he wiped his hand before reaching it out to shake yours, your eyebrows meeting with a crease at the gesture. Seemed a little formal after he’d already seen you naked. But still, you slipped your small hand into his much larger one, felt the calluses on his fingers and the ones against his palm as you introduced yourself. He smiled and repeated your name with a nod, your hand lingering in his as the two of you stared at each other in silence. You shook your head, a little dazed as though he had put a spell on you.

“Aren’t you in my art history class?” Eddie pushed a hand into his pocket and leaned back on his heels as he made small conversation.

“With Professor Blake?” You tilted your head watching as his eyes wandered down your frame and back again.

“Yeah, that guy. Always has a coffee stain somewhere.” You nodded along with his description, watched as he talked with his hands making gestures as he spoke mimicking Professor Blake’s mannerisms and the dribble of coffee he always had.

“That would be him,” you giggled again, wadding up the wrapper to your granola bar.

“How are you liking the class?”

“Something about art history makes me want to stab myself in the eye but otherwise it’s fine. Blubbering Blake makes it pretty entertaining, classmates are pretty cute,” he mused and kept his eyes trained on you.

Your gaze fluttered, an abashed smile found a home on your lips. You cleared your throat as you tried to formulate a response.

“I think it would be more fun if we spent more time looking at the art while we listened to them drabble on. More than just slides y’know? I like to be immersed in it.” As though that weren’t obvious by your lack of clothes moments ago. Your nerves were ignited making you antsy, a little bit of a rambling mess.

“I feel the same way,” he gave you a thoughtful nod, “You can only see or understand so much from a lecture and it’s usually all from a PowerPoint anyways,” he shrugged, gaze lingering on yours. He was unabashed with his staring, the way his gaze wandered over the length of you.

“You know what I’m really excited to see?” He nodded for you to continue, crossing his arms as he listened. Your enthusiasm was evident, wide eyes and a huge smile.

“Yayoi Kusama, her exhibit is going to be in Philly.” His gaze changed, excitement building at your words.

“Seriously? Holy shit, I have to see that. I’ve been following her work for a while,”

“Well if you’re interested, I have an extra ticket for tomorrow. My friend bailed on me.”

Your date had bailed but he didn’t need to know that. You shrugged your shoulder nonchalantly as if he wasn’t a stranger. As if this wasn’t your first conversation and you weren’t asking him to go out. As if you weren’t dying to end the night with him in your bed. 

“Fuck yeah, I’m interested,” he nodded his head enthusiastically.

“Great,” you beamed, “it starts at eight if you want to meet there?” Eddie shook his head.

“Absolutely not, I’m picking you up. We can get dinner after.”

“This is sounding a little like a date, Eddie.” You teased him to hide the nervous butterflies that were unraveling at your center.

“I hope so,” he smiled at you fully, one you couldn’t help but return.

The alarm went off letting you know that your break was over, that it was time for your final pose.

“Dinner sounds great,” you whispered over your shoulder as you walked back towards the makeshift stage and dropped your robe. Eddie shot you a wink, dimpled grin on full display as his gaze traveled over you.

———————————

You clawed through your closet for the better part of an hour, your bedroom littered with rejects as you examined your reflection in the mirror.

The black fabric of the short corduroy dress you’d decided on hugged you, accentuating the curve of your hips and ass. Your cleavage pressed into the fabric, the top button hanging on for dear life. You paired it with sheer black tights, a leather blazer, mary jane pumps, and a daring red lip. A little pop of color.

You shook out your hair, teasing it with your hands for a little volume before sliding on your gold necklace and matching hoops. You felt cute, a little hot even, and winked at yourself in the mirror laughing at your own cringe before checking your texts to see one from Eddie that said he was on his way.

Excitement filled you, a motley crew of butterflies swarming your abdomen as you anticipated his arrival and thought over your conversation, exchanging numbers after the class had ended. You’d thought about it since the day before, going about your routine with a little hum, a small smile and now the moment was here.

Eddie knocked at the door softly and straightened out his appearance as he waited for you.

You smoothed out the lines of your dress, fixed your cleavage, and looked at your reflection in the hall mirror one last time before answering.

His eyes widened, jaw slack as he looked at you. You were equally off guard, admiring his simple black button-down paired with black jeans that accentuated the curve of his thighs. He wore rings on either hand, big and intimidating. His hair hung at his shoulders instead of the bun you saw him in yesterday, a small chain tucked into his shirt. Eddie smelled like bergamot and sage, a hint of cinnamon from the gum he had been chewing.

“Y-you look stunning,” he stammered, blinking rapidly as he finally looked into your eyes. You melted under his gaze, flattered was too small of a word to describe how you felt under the intensity of his regard.

“You look pretty handsome yourself,” you complimented, slightly entranced by the smell of his cologne.

“Flattery will get you anything, sweetheart,” he chuckled, hiding the redness of his cheeks as the two of you walked out of your apartment building. His hand stayed at the small of your back, guiding you through the maze of hallways, down the elevator, and out the front door.

The fall night was chilly, a gentle breeze biting at your skin and you tucked yourself further into your blazer.

“Are you okay taking my motorcycle? If not I can get us a Lyft. I didn’t realize until I was on my way that I hadn’t mentioned it when I insisted on picking you up.” He grimaced.

“Let’s take your bike,” you assured him with a smile as the two of you walked in step. His bike was parked near your building, matte black and sleek. You let out a low whistle and walked ahead to get a good look at it.

“It’s so fucking nice,” you enthused, secretly always wanting a bike but knowing you could barely walk on two feet let alone ride on just two wheels.

“Thanks, got her this summer. Took her to the coast and some beaches. Was a pretty kick-ass time.” Eddie grabbed his helmet, adjusted the strap, and turned to you offering it.

“I don’t have an extra, don’t usually ride with a passenger,” he shrugged, “hopefully this will fit you.” He handed you the black helmet, matte to match his bike.

“Are you trying to say that I have a big head?” You scoffed playfully. His eyebrows shot up, devious. Like he didn’t want to be the one to tell you the truth that you were carrying a globe on your neck. You swatted at his shoulders playfully, a small giggle escaping.

“I didn’t even say anything,” he pretended to wince, rubbing his shoulder like it still stung all the while smiling broadly back at you.

“It was so implied in those eyebrows,” you pointed at them, drawing a little circle in the air in case he forgot where they were.

“They have a mind of their own,” he raised his hands as if he didn’t have an explanation and watched as you tugged the helmet on. It was tight against you, cheeks squeezed on the sides like your uncle used to.

“You might actually be right,” you grimaced, thinking of how unflattering the whole thing looked.

“I promise that’s how it’s supposed to fit,” he chuckled reaching over and adjusting the chin strap.

Eddie tapped your head slightly, shot you another wink that went straight between your thighs. He was suave, annoyingly confident but it had you hungry.

Wanting.

He slipped his legs over the bike, the fabric of his jeans bunching around his thighs and you eyed the swell of his ass. Eddie chuckled at the directon of your gaze as he held his hand out for you, helping you onto the bike and instructing you to use his shoulders to get situated. The muscle flexed under your touch, solid. You wanted to glide your fingers along them, skim the hard muscle of his arms into his back.

“How you feeling back there?” He peeked over his shoulder at you.

“G-good,” you stammered placing your hands gently at his sides.

“You might want to hold on a little tighter.” He pulled your hands around his waist, and patted them gently after you interlocked your fingers.

“Better?” He asked.

“Better,” you nodded even though he was no longer looking. He took off, motorcycle vibrating beneath you. You pressed your face into his back, arms tight around his stomach as the wind whipped against you.

—--

Eddie walked you to your door, palm on the small of your back, your body buzzing with the two margaritas you had over dinner and the warmth radiating from his touch. You weren’t drunk, just a little less wound tight. Nerves melted into oblivion. Inhibitions near nonexistent.

The date was good, great even. You had thought of this moment all night, how to invite him in and if you were being too forward. If you’d read into how his hand dipped from the small of your back to the swell of your ass. If you imagined the hunger in his gaze that was mirrored in yours.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” you beamed, back pressed into the wood of your door as you looked up at him. A little flirty, eyes batting. His brown eyes searched your face, settled on your bottom lip and he swallowed hard.

“I had a lot of fun too, thanks for inviting me.” He leaned a little closer, bergamot and cinnamon filling the small space between the two of you.

His eyes darted back and forth between your gaze and the pout of your lips.

Debating.

You leaned closer, back leaving the surface of the door, the swell of your breasts brushing against his chest as you did. He crowded your space, pushing you gently back against the wood, one hand resting above your head and the other playing with the hem of your dress. You tried to seem unphased but the way you swallowed had you giving away how his touch affected you.

Eddie dipped his fingers under the hem of your dress tracing the line of your upper thigh to the cheek of your ass. Teasing. Eyes darkening when he noticed you weren’t wearing any underwear.

Your hand moved up his chest, lightly scratching the exposed flesh until they were twined behind his neck, the sweet smell of your perfume making him hum.

He wedged a leg between the two of yours, the sound of his boot heavy against the hallway floor, nose brushing yours as he leaned in watching your eyes flutter close.

Eddie cupped your jaw, calloused thumb rubbing gently against your cheekbone, tracing a line to your bottom lip and pulling against it. A shiver ran up your spine as you felt his other hand move further up your skirt, fingers digging into the doughy flesh.

His breath was warm against your lips, a whisper above yours as he continued to tease you. You whined impatiently pulling him closer until his lips were pressed into yours.

They were softer than you expected, plump against your own and you knotted your fingers into his curls. Pulling softly and eliciting a groan. He sucked your bottom lip, tongue sliding across asking for permission until you opened for him. Your tongues met in the middle, soft as they explored each other.

Eddie’s hand cupped your jaw as the kiss deepened, his knee pressed between your thighs and you began to grind against him. Your clit rubbed against the rough material of his jeans making you shiver with the contact. You felt him twitch against your thigh, the evidence of his arousal pressed into you making you moan into his mouth.

He pulled away from you, pupils blown, cheeks blushed crimson. He eyed your swollen lips, a question on the tip of his tongue but you beat him to it.

“We should go inside,” you stated between breathy sighs. Eddie nodded rapidly, swallowing roughly as he eyed your cleavage before you turned around and began digging for your keys, shuffling around your wallet and tubes of cherry lipgloss.

He pressed kisses to the curve of your neck, tongue darting over the nipped flesh. Length hard against you, rutting into your ass. You were unable to concentrate, head tilting back as his palms created a path until they were cupping your breasts. Your hands stilled as he explored the heavy flesh.

“You better keep looking,” he instructed, teeth grazing your thrumming pulse. You nodded, chest heaving as you dug through your purse again, finally finding the keys.

You pushed the door open with shaky hands, Eddie trailing behind you. You closed the heavy wood in a rush, breaths short as you kicked off your mary jane pumps.

Your apartment was only illuminated by the light in your hallway, creating a shadow over Eddie’s strong jaw. You grazed a fingertip over the bone and he shuddered, eyes dark as he pushed you lightly against the door pressing rough kisses to your sternum.

You reached for the buttons of Eddie’s shirt, fingernails grazing against the tattooed flesh as the material of the black button-up dangled open. He tilted your head back to get better access, kissing down your neck, your chest, and to the top of your breasts. Your skin was warm against his lips, flushed with the heat building between the two of you.

He nipped at your cleavage, fingers starting to undo the buttons that lined the front of your dress, fumbling through them quickly until the material dropped open.

“Fuck,” he breathed a groan as he eyed you, fingers gliding over the flesh of your stomach and up your chest, pushing at the straps of your dress until it fell to the floor with a soft thud.

You were nearly bare, standing in just your tights and your black lace bra. Goosebumps sprouted, a shuddered breath escaped your lips and he was on you.

Rough kisses, all teeth and tongue.

Hungry. Desperate.

He groaned as he felt your perked nipples through the lace of your bra against his muscled chest, big hands finding purchase on the curve of your hips. He squeezed you firmly, flipping you around until your chest was pressed into the door. Eddie rubbed his hands over your ass, warmth radiating through the thin layer separating him from your bare skin.

“How attached to these tights are you?” He asked, voice gruff. He began sucking a sensitive spot behind your ear as he waited for your answer.

“N-not really,” you stammered, distracted. Needy.

Eddie’s right hand cupped your breast wandering under the material of your bra. He squeezed at the nipple as his other hand left a blazing trail down your back and between your thighs. You were soaked, slick arousal making your tights stick to your folds. Eddie traced the outline of them with his finger, breath catching as he felt how wet you were.

“All of this because of me?” His voice was low, warm breath fanning your ear as he pressed into you.

His cock twitched against your ass and you nodded at him, a high-pitched whine escaping your lips as you began grinding against him, hips wiggling against his hard length. He stilled your hips, fingernails digging into your skin creating crescent moons.

“You’re a needy girl, aren’t you?” You nodded again, trying to press harder against him. To feel him against your clit. The friction you so desperately needed.

Eddie smacked your ass and your moan grew louder, needier. Enjoying the sting as his hand rubbed the covered flesh.

“You like that, baby?”

Both his hands rubbed over the dough over your ass, against the seam of your tights, fingers digging until you heard a rip from the nylon and felt the air against the slick between your legs.

Eddie gently pushed against your feet spreading your legs further apart, fabric ripped in half until the tights were two separate halves. He grabbed the fat of your ass spreading you apart bending on his knees behind you.

“Jesus fuck,” he moaned, swiping against your folds.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he hummed, finger dipping close to your cunt.

“Is this all for me?” You nodded but he couldn’t see, gaze trained on how you glistened in front of him.

“I need to hear you, sweetheart,” his hand stilled and you whimpered.

“Yes, it’s all for you.”

“Do you want me to touch you? Make you cum with my tongue?” You nodded again, this time earning another slap against your ass. Your nipples pebbled at the contact, cunt gripping around nothing as your moan filled the space.

“I need you to tell me, pretty girl,” Eddie instructed, spreading you apart again.

“Please, please make me cum Eddie.”

Your nails scrapped against the wood door, clawing at nothing as he teased your cunt with his thick finger. Thumb playing with your bundle of nerves. You felt his warm breath against your wet arousal and shivered, forehead pressing into the door as you bit your lip in anticipation.

You were a second away from begging when you felt his tongue swipe against your folds. He groaned at your taste, lapping up your dripping arousal like a man starved. Your toes curled as he pressed further into you, head twisted so he could work your clit, thick fingers teasing your entrance. You wiggled your ass against his face, a silent plead and Eddie slipped a finger inside stretching you until he was knuckle deep. His fingers curled inside, hitting a spot you had trouble reaching on your own.

Your moans grew louder, reverberating off the walls of your apartment as you got closer to coming undone.

“Fuck, Eddie, oh my god,” your chest heaved, eyes squeezing tight as the rubber band inside you constricted.

He added a second finger, tongue lapping at your juices as you began to constrict around him. You reached behind, fingers wrapping into his curls and holding his head to you.

Your moans matched his pace. The sound of your squelching pussy filling the air around you. Its lewdness egging Eddie on, and his breath was warm against your sensitive skin as his groan vibrated through you.

Whimpers escaped your lips in quick succession, blissed out and close to the edge.

“I-I’m so close, Eddie,” you mewled and he began to suck your clit, your vision going white as the rubber band snapped and you came undone.

Your walls pulsed around his fingers, his name falling from your lips in breathy moans. Body shaking as the orgasm took over. His groans vibrated against your clit making you shudder and he savored every last drop, never slowing. Lapping at your juices. He slapped your ass again, your legs shaky as he left a trail of kisses up your spine and turned you around.

You melted into his arms, looked at him with hooded eyes and saw the evidence of your climax coating his mouth. You stood on your tiptoes, kissing him deep and tasting your sweetness on his swollen lips.

“You taste so good baby, so sweet,” you bit at his bottom lip. Less shy, already hungry for more. To feel the delicious stretch of the hard length that had been pressing against you. You placed your hands on his chest, his muscles flexing under your touch. You pushed back gently, a silent command.

“It’s time for me to take care of you,” you guided him further into the apartment, gaze trained on his as you undid his belt and let it fall to the floor. Your hands worked the button of his jeans, nails brushing the hair that trailed into his pants and teasing the sensitive skin there.

He looked at you with hooded eyes, stopping at the foot of your bed when you got down in front of him. Knees digging into the carpeted floor. You looked at him over your lashes, teeth biting into your lower lip as you took it slow. You pushed his jeans down his hips and he kicked them to the side watching as you grazed the ends of your nails against his legs, up the swell of his muscled thighs. Smiling when he shivered at the touch.

You kissed his clothed length, hand massaging his balls, trailing kisses until you reached the tip. A patch on his boxers wet from pre-cum. You stroked him through the thin fabric, hand wrapping around his girthy cock as you dragged your palm from the base to his tip.

He was big, bigger than you’d ever had, and you ached at the thought of stretching around him. You stood, hand still wrapped his length, and pushed him onto the bed. He spread his stance wide, brown eyes watching as you situated yourself between his legs, his chest rising and falling in short spurts.

You palmed his thighs, finger grazing the spandex of his boxers and pulled them down watching as his cock sprang free. You bit your bottom lip as you eyed his length. He was thick, an angry vein lined the underside, pink head leaking with precum. You grabbed the base of him, tongue flat as you licked a line to his tip swirling over the top to collect the pearly liquid. You moaned at the taste of him, Eddie watching you with a hooded gaze and a shallow breath. You gathered spit, dribbling it down his tip until his head was slick and grazed your flat tongue against it.

“Oh fucking Christ,” his voice was ragged, fingers gripping your sheets as he felt you bob against his length, sucking his sensitive head with a loud pop as you eyed him.

He tangled his fingers in your hair, guiding your head down his length, cock twitching as you attempted to take every inch. Mouth wide, saliva dripping on either side of your gaped mouth. Eddie tensed as he felt your throat constricting around him, swallowing. Taking him deep until you were gagging.

He almost doubled over, veins in his hands at attention as he gripped your hair to try to maintain self-control.

“Fuck, baby, I’m not going to last long like this,” he admitted, head thrown back. A goner.

You licked the underside of his cock one last time, giving his tip a little peck and crawled over his frame, nails scratching lightly across his chest.

He looked at you with a heavy gaze, thumb wiping the saliva that dripped on your chin and back to your lips. You wrapped your plump lips around his thumb, tongue darting across it. A tease.

His cock twitched underneath you as you wiggled on his lap. Needy. He removed his thumb, jaw agape as he watched.

He leaned in, mouth connecting with yours and kissed you until neither of you could breathe. His tongue flicked over the seam of your lips, the kiss deepening as he swallowed your shaky gasps. Rubbing your arousal against his hard length. Sensitive clit throbbing with each swipe. You pulled away panting, eyes heavy with lust. Dazed.

“Fucking hell,” he gasped as he clung to you, his hands reaching up to unclasp your bra. Your breasts bounced out and he kneaded the ample flesh, eyes fixated on your perked nipples.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathed as he took one into his mouth, sucking. Nibbling. Watching as you keened at his touch.

You reached beneath you and gripped him firmly, lining him up with your entrance and slowly began to sink down. He eased in easier but was still a stretch. You circled your hips pulling more of him in until your cunt was wrapped tightly around every inch of him. There was a dull ache where you were connected, stretching over his girth. Eddie wrapped his arms around your middle, eyebrows scrunched at the feeling of your tight walls wrapped around his cock.

“Holy shit,” he groaned, fingers digging into your sides and likely to leave evidence of his touch. You adjusted to his length, breathless and stuffed full.

Eddie pressed his nose to your neck as he held you, hissing as you lifted your hips off his lap. His cheeks were flushed pink, sweat beading on his chest. He moved his hands below your ass, kneading it and spreading you apart. You clenched around him as he spread you, both of you gasping at the sensation. Eddie helped ease you up, bringing you back down over his length. The sound of your flesh slapping together filling the room.

His lips were back on yours and he swallowed your moans as you picked up the pace, hips creating circles whenever you reached his tip in a tease. He slapped your ass at every taunt of your hips, and you clenched with each contact of his hand against your butt cheek. He held you firmly against him, arms wrapped around your waist and began rutting into you. Balls slapping against you with each thrust.

“Oh fuck, Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you screamed his name, rubber band threatening to snap inside you as he continued.

“Yeah, baby? Going to be a good girl and cum for me again?” You clenched at the nickname.

“Oh you like being called a good girl, don’t you sweetheart?” You nodded, unable to form a sentence or find the words. Only able to pant his name as he continued to stretch you.

“Make sure you ask me before you do,” he instructed, his hand reached between the two of you. His thumb found your clit and Eddie began rubbing it in mean circles. You jolted at the contact, your thighs a mess from your building release. Your nails dug into Eddie’s shoulder, scratching at the muscle as the pressure built.

“Please, Eddie, please let me cum?” You asked between heavy breaths, vision turning white as the climax built.

“Fuck yes, sweetheart, cum all over my cock like a good girl,” he hummed watching as your head tilted and your eyes rolled, pussy fluttering around his length as the rubber band snapped. You could feel the climax throughout your body, goosebumps forming on the skin of your arms as Eddie continued to pump into you.

Overstimulated, tears brimming your eyes as your sensitive cunt was stretched.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I’m going to cum,” his hips sputtered as he bucked into you with one final thrust. His nails digging into the fat of your ass, his cock twitching as he came. He pumped you full, walls painted with his release.

Eddie held you, hands less firm and rubbing soft circles where he dug into your skin. He pecked your bare chest, lips sliding over your breasts, up your sternum and to your neck. Softer. Sweeter.

He found your lips and kissed you with a saccharine grin. Curly bangs sticking to his forehead. You looked at him closely, his face smeared with the red of your lipstick and you giggled at the mess. He raised a curious brow as you began to wipe it away.

“I’m sorry I made such a mess out of you,” you teased.

“I think I’m the one who should be apologizing,” and you could feel the mix of yours and his release running down your thighs.

Your hearts were beating rapidly, your hands splayed on the muscle of his chest and something about his gaze made you suddenly shy. You hid in his chest, planting sweet kisses along his pecs. Eddie tilted your chin.

“Let me get you cleaned up,” he lifted you gently, placing you beside him on the bed. He gave you a quick kiss before venturing down the hall to find the restroom.

You listened as he grabbed a washcloth, the sound of the water running, and the soft pads of his feet as he returned. He was gentle as he ran the cloth over your sensitive cunt, cock twitching at your gasps. He tossed the damp cloth into the hamper and watched you, admired the outline of your frame.

“I want to draw you just like this,” he remarked, eyes tracing over your frame. Breathing beginning to return to normal, hitching every time you met his gaze. You covered your mouth as you giggled.

“Like one of your French girls, Jack?”

“If you’ll let me, Rose,” he leaned over, teeth grazing your lower lip and you gasped. Returning the affection with a dart of your tongue, sucking on his bottom lip. He groaned, the length of his cock hardening with each pass of your lips against his.

“Maybe another time,” you suggested between kisses, and he nodded already pushing you further up the bed.

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : TABS OF THE MIND : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Wade Wilson x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff :))

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: You use your mind-reading ability to explore Wade Wilson's thoughts and discover his chaotic but affectionate mental landscape. Among the many open tabs, you find a surprising section dedicated to his romantic feelings for you, complete with heartfelt and humorous entries. When you confront Wade about it, he’s both embarrassed and delighted, leading to a sweet and playful exchange that deepens your connection.

YOU HAD ALWAYS BEEN WARY OF POKING AROUND IN PEOPLE’S MINDS. The sheer amount of personal information, the jumble of thoughts and feelings—it could be overwhelming. But you’d made an exception for Wade Wilson, also known as Deadpool, partly out of curiosity and partly because you were just really, really bored one evening.

Wade had been unusually quiet—an anomaly you couldn't ignore. As you sat across from him in the living room, surrounded by a chaotic mess of his various weaponry and superhero paraphernalia, you decided to use your mind-reading abilities to see what was going on inside his head.

The mental dive into Wade’s brain was like stepping into a virtual reality game with no tutorial. It was an endless array of screens, tabs, and pop-ups, all crammed together in a dizzying whirlwind of chaotic thoughts. The metaphorical computer in his mind was running on overdrive, with so many tabs open it looked like a hacker's dream.

There was a tab labeled “Weapons Upgrades,” with a detailed list of modifications and their potential effectiveness. Another tab titled “Tacos” featured a passionate debate between various taco toppings. Scrolling through, you saw tabs on everything from “Recent Movie Reviews” to “Improvised Combat Techniques,” each one brimming with Wade’s characteristic fervor.

But then you stumbled upon a particularly interesting tab labeled “You.” It was nestled between “How to Annoy Cable” and “Top Ten Deadpool Fails.” Your curiosity piqued, you hesitated for a moment before clicking on it.

The tab opened up to a series of thoughts and fantasies about you. Wade’s mind was a blend of absurdity and sincerity. There were sketches of you in various heroic poses, doodles of you and Wade together in ridiculously romantic settings (including a taco-themed date), and a heartfelt but goofy list of reasons why he thought you were “totally awesome.”

One entry read: “Top 5 Reasons Why You’re the Coolest Ever: 1) You’re mind-reading is hot. 2) You laugh at my jokes (or at least pretend to). 3) You’re strong, smart, and have that killer smile. 4) You didn’t run screaming when you first saw me in my suit. 5) You’re my kind of crazy.”

Your heart melted a little as you scanned through these thoughts, seeing the genuine affection Wade had for you beneath his usual banter. It was sweet, and more than a little funny, especially given the ridiculous nature of some of his fantasies.

Wade looked up from his video game, catching your gaze with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Whatcha doing over there? Plotting world domination? Or maybe just how to fix my latest taco catastrophe?”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking as you closed the mental tabs. “Actually, I was just browsing your thoughts. Noticed you’ve got quite a lot of open tabs.”

He grinned, his eyes twinkling with playful innocence. “Yeah, my brain’s a bit of a mess. But it’s a fun mess. Anything you’d like to share?”

You leaned closer, teasing him. “Oh, just the fact that you have a whole section dedicated to me.”

Wade’s eyes widened comically, his grin widening. “Oh really? I didn’t know I was so… tab-worthy.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a warmth spread through you at his playful embarrassment. “Yeah, it’s quite the collection. You’ve got everything from doodles of us eating tacos together to a detailed list of why you think I’m amazing.”

Wade’s face flushed slightly, and he scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Well, you know, it’s hard to keep a lid on how awesome you are. My brain just… explodes with thoughts about you. Most of them are totally sane and not at all over-the-top.”

You reached out and took his hand, the gesture softening his expression. “It’s sweet, Wade. Really.”

He looked at you with a mixture of relief and delight. “So, you’re not freaked out by my overactive imagination?”

You shook your head, smiling warmly. “Not at all. In fact, I think it’s kind of endearing.”

Wade’s grin returned with renewed vigor. “Well, in that case, I guess I should make sure the next tab is about our future taco dates.”

You laughed, squeezing his hand gently. “That sounds perfect.”

With that, Wade pulled you into a spontaneous hug, spinning you around with exuberant joy. “I knew you’d love it! I’ve got tons more tabs where that came from. Next one’s about how I’m going to impress you with my epic ninja moves. Spoiler alert: It might involve a lot of flailing.”

You rested your head against his shoulder, enjoying the comfort of his embrace. “I look forward to it. But maybe let’s focus on the taco date first?”

He chuckled, his arms tightening around you. “Deal. Tacos first, epic ninja moves second. You got it.”

And as the two of you settled into your quirky, loving routine, you knew that Wade’s chaotic, endearing mind was a place you were more than happy to be a part of. The tabs of his heart were filled with an unconventional but undeniable affection, and you were thrilled to be the center of it all.

🏷️: @stargazingcarol

Thank you (and your friend ofc) for this adorable request! I really hope you enjoyed it :))

If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know!

[leclerc-hs]

the blueprint - cl16

pairing: architect!charles leclerc x coworker!reader (fem) summary: in which you and your co-worker can't help but constantly butt-heads on projects warnings: 18+! SMUT! (obvi), kinda mean!Charles, squirting, language, some French (badly translated prob) word count: 4.1k author's note: hi I absolutely LOVED writing this. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. i didn’t proofread so if there’s any typos please let me know!!! xoxo!! please let me hear your thoughts!!!! don’t be shy

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . ⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

YOU COULD’VE SWORN you’ve never been so irritated in your life. 

“Can’t you just, I don’t know, ferme ta guele for once!” Shut the fuck up. You stood in the door of Charles’s office, a crescendo of emotion echoed in your voice, almost reaching a fervent shout. Your face, now tinged with a reddish hue, reflected just how frustrated you were. 

For a little over a year, both you and Charles had been integral parts of the same company. You, an interior designer, who occasionally delved into architecture every blue moon for fun. You never got the degree for architecture, but you loved to sketch building ideas from time to time just for fun. And then there’s him, an architect, with a stick too far up his ass sometimes.

Anger painted Charles’s demeanor, evident from the subtle reddening in his ears and the clench of his jaw. With matching frustration, he strolled behind his desk, easing into his chair. His green eyes narrowed at you, a silent yet potent communication.

“Moi?” Me? His tone was incredulous at he pointed his own fingertips at him, tapping them directly into his sweater covered chest. “Porquoi tu ne le fais pas?” Why don’t you? His voice dropped lower at the end of his sentence, while he directed his fingers to now point at you. 

You took a step further into his office, not bothering to shut the door behind you. “Tu es incroyable!” You’re unbelievable! The sarcasm dripped off your tongue as you ran a hand through your hair, your chest slightly heaving up and down. 

To which, Charles only smirked at, ignoring your sarcasm, and responded with a cocky “J’ai beaucoup entende cela.” I’ve heard that a lot. 

The memory of the initial cause of the argument had become hazy but it was likely that it stemmed from the inherent clash that seemed inevitable whenever the two of you worked together on a project. The two of you were constantly perplexed by the company’s decision to consistently pair you two together, especially because it was not a secret that you didn’t get along. However, the undeniable reason might be rooted in the remarkable success followed. Almost every building, house, or structure designed by the both of you stood out as some of the company’s best creations.

Charles couldn’t help but trace his eyes along every crevice of your face while you ranted on. He honestly wasn’t even listening as you bitched on about something you claimed he did. Instead, he was too enraptured with the way your cheeks reddened, the way your eyes narrowed at him, and the way your breasts moved with every exclamation you made. Because really, he is still a man after all and the tight button up shirt you wore was almost sinister. Like seriously, he could’ve sworn the buttons were about to pop open with each breath you took.

“Mon dieu! Even now, you’re still not listening!” You noticed the distant look in Charles’s eyes as he leaned back into his chair. It was like he was looking at you, but not at you. 

You snapped your fingers repeatedly, leaning over the desk, your breasts even more in Charles’s face now. He swore it took everything in him to look at your face, and not your perky breasts dangling in front of him.

“What?”

You stormed out of his office immediately with a loud groan. You didn’t see him for the rest of the day.

-

“Mamma mia,” Oh my god. Charles exclaimed to no one except himself as he stood tall, his hands tapping the sides of the heavy machine before him. It felt like an eternity, although it had only been about 5 minutes. The matter at hand was perfecting the model of his latest project, but the 3-D printer seemed to be malfunctioning. 

Taking a step back, he began to stare at the machine as if it were his enemy, one hand rested on his hip. A million thoughts ran through his mind as to what could possibly be wrong with the machine. No matter how many times he tried, the layers seemed to be separating far too much, deeming each piece of his model printed earlier as garbage.

The fragrance of sandalwood, laced with a subtle sweetness of vanilla, announced your presence before he could even lay eyes on you. The warm and captivating scent enveloped him, much like it always did. He squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and pointer finger in annoyance that he knew it was you without even having to turn around. Without turning his head, he spoke up, catching your attention abruptly.

“Sais-tu comment réparer cela?” Do you know how to fix this?

It was one of the rare occasions when he addressed you without any trace of hatred in his words.  Your mouth hung slack in surprise, and you almost felt the need to rub your eyes in disbelief at the fact there was no back-handed comment involved.

For a few moments, you just stared at the back of his head. Unable to understand why he was even asking for your help in the first place. When he got impatient of waiting for a response, he spun his body around, his eyebrows slightly furrowed, and eyes pointed at you. 

“Hm?” Snapping out of your surprise, you urged him to continue, seeking clarification on what he was referring to. Charles couldn’t help but take note of the tight black jumpsuit that you wore, a black and gold belt cinched at your waist. He felt his heart pound in his chest just a little bit more than normal at the accentuation of your curves as you stepped in front of him, acknowledging the curve of your ass before him.

“It, uh..” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed away his thoughts of your ass. You turned to look at him, waiting for him to finish his words. His cheeks slightly tinted pink as he offers a sheepish smile to you, “it keeps separating the layers too much.”

You nodded your head slowly, “Je déteste quand ça fait ça.” I hate when it does that. You quietly agreed with him, before playing with some of the buttons on the machine. Without any luck of fixing it on your own, your eyes lit up like a light bulb as you remembered Josh, one of your other co-workers, solved this issue before.

“Let me get Josh!” You uttered the name with such excitement that Charles felt an involuntary growl building within him. Josh, a fellow architect at the firm, seemed uncomfortably close to you for Charles’s liking. Not that he cared or anything, but few things irked him more than witnessing you and Josh together in the office like two peas in a pod. The way Josh shamelessly flirted with you constantly only added to his irritation. Not that he liked you or anything, but that didn’t mean he hasn’t thought about shoving you face down over his desk and stuffing you full of his cock. Or that he hasn’t thought of you pressed against the windows of his office, your bare chest against the glass as he slips his cock into your wet folds. Or that he hasn’t thought about shoving his cock so deep into your throat just to get you to be quiet sometimes. 

It was like the flip of a switch, Charles’s irritation pouring out of him, as he spontaneously stomped away from the printing room. Trudging back to his office, leaving you behind in confusion. The last thing he wanted to see was you and Josh fixing something for him.

-

“She’s such a fucking know it all,” Charles groans to a group of his co-workers, bringing the neck of the beer bottle to his lips before taking a swig. His eyes have been following your every move since you stepped foot in the banquet hall tonight.

 It was the 42nd annual office party, which may sound boring at first, but it always ends up with some chaotic story. Last year it was Jane, one of the executive assistants, who got way too drunk she vomited right by the CEO’s feet. The year before that it was Nick, a man who is part of the custodial staff, who went almost too crazy on the dance floor that he knocked a handful of people down and resulted in multiple broken glasses around the place. All in all, the office party is usually the opposite of a bore.

And tonight, Charles decides that it’s definitely not a bore when he spots your outfit for the night. Charles doesn’t miss the curve of your ass as your back faces him, or the fact that Josh’s hand rests lightly against the small of your back either.

You’re dressed to kill tonight. A long silky black gown rests tightly against your skin, aside from the bottom that fans out much like a mermaid tail. The neckline wraps around your neck much like a scarf, a long tail of it falling at your side. 

Charles was so focused on Josh’s hand on you, that he didn’t even hear his co-workers speaking to him until they shoved his shoulder lightly.

“Dude, do you like her or something?”

“Or something.” Charles said with such disgust and hatred laced in his voice. “I don’t know why I always have to get paired with her.” He finished his beer in a hasty speed as you head towards the bar, excusing himself from his friends as he made his way to the same area.

The grip he had on the neck of the empty bottle was so tight, it was close to breaking in the palm of his hand. He leans against the bar, staring straight ahead as he waits for the bartender to acknowledge him.

“What’s got you all wound up?” Sandalwood and Vanilla.

He turns his head, to you and a smiling Josh at your side. He wants to roll his eyes almost immediately. What he would give to be able to punch him right in the face for even being able to touch you. He doesn’t bother to respond to you, turning his head back to the bar.

He’s sick in the head, honestly. He knows he approached the bar only to be closer to you but then ignores you as soon as you’re near. To get some glimpse of you. To smell you. To hear your voice. 

You hate the rejection. No matter how much he grinds your gears, you always try to be polite. You don’t want to argue with him. It’s honestly exhausting to stay arguing with him almost every day. On your first day of work, you actually thought you could be friends, until he opened his mouth and rudely dismissed you. It only made you work harder.

Charles got his drink and made his way back to his group of ‘friends’. He didn’t look at you the rest of the night.

At least until you both crossed paths outside the venue. Josh had left earlier in the night due to not feeling well, leaving you alone, with no jacket, as you tried to call for a ride home. 

Charles’s hands were shoved in the pockets of his dress pants as he approached you, awaiting for the valet to pull his car around. “Where is your jacket?” He questioned, simply curious.

“Why do you care?” You remarked back, a hint of annoyance in your voice. “You ignored me earlier and now you want to talk to me?” 

Charles felt his patience wearing thin, especially at the sight of the goosebumps all over your skin and the chatter of your teeth between each word you spoke. Your nipples were rock hard, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Charles. He felt the blood rush to his cock as his eyes quickly glanced at them. 

He rolled his eyes before shoving his suit jacket off and tossing it over your shoulders. “Can’t have my partner getting sick.” He began, “The project is due too soon for you to call out.” He pulled the excuse out of his ass. Because really, how was he supposed to say that he cared? That he cared about the woman he’s an absolute dick too.

You wanted to argue, he could see the detest in your eyes, but you snuggled into the jacket anyways. Appreciating his gesture and the warmth of the jacket.

The valet pulled his car up, opening the door for Charles, to which Charles handed him a crisp bill for fetching the car for him. You stood on the sidewalk, Charles’s jacket swallowing your body whole, a small breeze blowing the front pieces of your hair off your face. You looked beautiful, and Charles’s knew it was a complete lie if he said other.

“Get in,” He motioned the passenger door open, not bothering to wait for your response before he grasped your small forearm and ushering you into the seat. The car smelt just like him. A smell you wanted to bury yourself in, regardless how annoying he was.

Charles wove through the streets at a leisurely pace, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on his knee. The radio volume was low, playing a song you couldn’t remember the name of, as you stared out the window and directed Charles to your home.

He wanted to argue that he knows where it is. That he’s already been there before because one time he went to check on you because you didn’t show up to work without calling in (which was very abnormal). That it’s the building right next to his. But he doesn’t say it and just lets you direct him anyways, just so he can hear your voice a little more. He was greedy when it came to you.

Within a few minutes, he pulled in front of your building, placing the car in park and unbuckling his seat belt. You sat silently after unbuckling your own seatbelt, trying to decipher his mood. You never knew what mood you were going to get, but most of the time it was annoyance and anger.

You turned to look at him and your eyes instantly met with his, as he was already looking at you. “Merci.” Your words were soft as you spoke, reaching for the door handle, he stopped you.

“You should dress warmer,” His lips lifted into a small grin, “It’s too cold and I can’t handle this project without you.”

Although it was work related, it was probably the closest compliment you’ve ever received from him. If you wanted to count it as a compliment. You felt your cheeks turn pink at his confession. Who are you? You don’t blush at Charles Leclerc. The architect with a stick up his ass. The guy who grates your every nerve. The guy who is undeniably hot and smells so good, you think about it more often than you want to admit.

“I’ll remember that.” Your hand goes to reach for the car door handle, but he stops you. His muscular arm stretches across your lap, grabbing the door and holding it in place from opening. He’s now practically stretched across the small space of the car, his scent enveloping you, the warmth of his body heating you right up. A small smirk formed on Charles lips as he noticed how flustered you were getting towards his proximity.

“Are you and Josh dating?” It was a simple question, but the words felt like acid on his tongue. You couldn’t help but notice the displeased look on his face as he straightens his body, providing more space between the two of you.

Your eyes widened in shock before muttering a quick, “No!” You coughed slightly, almost choking on your shock. 

“Bien.” Good.  Was all he said, before unlocking the doors, giving you the go ahead to get out of the car. It was when you were about three steps from the car door that he rolled down the window and said, “You can return the jacket at work.”

-

It’s today, that Charles decides he has had it up to here. If he must witness Josh’s fingers graze your skin one more time, he swears he will combust. So, to make himself feel some relief of his anger, he starts a fight with you. Naturally.

“It’s a shitty plan and even you know it!” 

Honestly, it is a shit plan. And Charles knows that it’s a shit one too, but he would never admit that to you. Not when he is this pent up over fucking Josh. Not when it gives him an excuse to spend more time with you.

Which is what led you into his office, the clock nearing midnight, as you both are sprawled (as much as you can be) around his desk. The current plans of the project are scattered everywhere and not one other person, beside the both of you, are within the offices floor.

Your hair had made its way into a clip, leaving your neck uncovered and exposed. Charles’s found himself often staring at the nape of your neck when you weren’t looking. His desire to litter marks all over it was growing with each second that he spent in your proximity. Sandalwood and Vanilla.

“Is there a reason you’re always so mean to me?”

The words caught him completely off guard as he lifted his pencil, leaning back in his chair to face you more. You looked beautiful, like always. He could feel the burn in his chest as the words left your lips.

He was silent for a moment. Contemplating if he’s supposed to tell you that he’s mean to you because he doesn’t know how to act around you. That he’s mean to you because he wants to fuck you so badly, it consumes his every thought. That he’s mean to you because you are mean to him too.

“You’re not innocent either,” He remarks. His eyes shifting back to the drawing in front of him. Honestly, the plans weren’t looking much better but you both refused to give up.

You nodded your head slowly in agreement. You couldn’t deny that sometimes you were snippier towards him for no reason. It probably had to do with the fact that almost every week since you met, you’ve had to use your vibrator to the thought of him to ease the burn in your stomach just enough to get through the day.

You both didn’t know what it was about each other. You got under each other’s skin like no other.

And it wasn’t until he brought his eyes back to you, green meeting yours, that he noticed the dilation in your pupils. He could no longer pretend that he didn’t want you. It was killing him.

His hand grasps the back of your neck in a tight grip, asserting his dominance, as he pulls you into him. Your lips smashing into each other. He wasted no time before slipping his tongue directly into your mouth, moaning in the process as you let him in with such ease.

Your taut nipples poked through fabric of your bralette underneath the silk top you wore. Charles kept one hand on the back of your neck, pressing you into him, while the other slipped into the buttoned shirt, pinching your nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

He groaned hotly into your mouth as he grabbed a handful of your breast, something he’s always wanted to do.

You crawled your way into his lap, the short skirt riding up your waist as you straddled his lap in the desk chair. You grinded against his thigh, moaning into his mouth. He swallowed every moan you gave, his hands eventually sliding down to your hips and guiding your movement.

“You drive me fucking crazy, chérie.” He spoke the words in between kisses, the sentence sounding broken as your tongue swirled around his.

“Are we really doing this?” You pulled away, unable to stop the motion of your hips as you stared at him. His hair was in complete disarray, lips swollen from kissing you so hard, and his eyes were half-shut like he was drunk off of your kisses.

He didn’t respond with words. Instead, he places his hands onto the backside of your thighs and lifted you as he came to a stance, placing you directly on the edge of his desk before him.

You both were frantic, ripping off each other’s clothes as fast as you could in between the wet, hot open-mouthed kisses. It wasn’t long before you were almost completely nude, aside from the mini skirt bunched above your waist, and sprawled along his desk with his hard cock stretching the velvet walls of your pussy with a delicious burn. His thumb pressed tiny but firm circles on your swollen clit, leaving you delusional on his desk.

His lips trailed all over your body. They moved from the spot right below your ear, to the underside of your jaw, up to the corner of your mouth.

“Feel so fucking good, chérie.” He groaned. His hips moving at a fervent pace, you don’t think you would last much longer, especially with his hot words whispered into the shell of your ear.

He pulled away from you for a moment, just to stare at how fucked you were. Your hair was no longer in a clip, seeing as he pulled it out of your hair and tossed it across his office just mere minutes ago. Your cheeks and chest were flushed, and the bounce of your tits almost had him cumming on the spot.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” He confesses. The words jumbling off his lips as he ruts against you, the large wooden desk pushing forward with each powerful thrust of his hips into you. The office walls echoed your moans, you were practically screaming in pleasure for the entire world to hear.

You nodded your head repeatedly, unable to form the words, too drunk off the feeling of his cock pressing against the very spot that ached the most for him. Because you too, wanted this for so long.

“Yeah?” He smugly asks. “You wanted this too?” He slows his hips down, but it doesn’t lessen the effect of just how good his cock feels against you. Your walls are clamped around him tightly, not wanting to let him go.

“Mhm,” you groaned. “Needed this so bad….needed you” You words were almost incoherent as he spits directly onto your clit, his thumb now speeding up the little circles he’s been doing all this time.

He had to pinch his eyes shut at the confession, almost sending him to release his cum right into you. “Mon dieu,” His voice grumbles, reverberating in his chest as he leans over your body on the desk, trailing his tongue and sucking on your nipple.

“I’m gonna,” you begin. “fuck, fuck,” It takes a few seconds of Charles sucking on your nipple before the burn deep in your stomach completely takes over, sending your legs spasming around his waist. Your orgasm was explosive and wet. You don’t think you’ve ever experienced this before as you squeeze around Charles’s cock so tightly, he feels like he can barely move his cock. 

“Fucking, mmm,” He can barely get full sentences out as you squirt all over his cock and onto the papers of his desk. “That’s a good girl,” He stands up tall, watching you thrash around on his desk, and the now soaked plans beneath your body.

“Doing so good for me.”

“Feels so fucking good”

“So fucking beautiful”

“Does my cock feel as good as you feel to me?” 

With a few more mumbled phrases spewing out of Charles’s lips, his own orgasm hits him, as he pulls out quickly, his hot cum landing directly across your stomach in a gooey string.

You both were panting, unable to form words as he collapses his chest down onto you. The ability to stand lost on him as his pants rest at his ankles. Your chests move in sync as you catch your breaths, Charles’s cum pressed to both of your skin.

“Looks like we need to re-do the plans again.” Charles jokes which quickly earns a soft chuckle from your lips in response.

[ihatedtoadmit]

Art study

pairing: Bang Chan x gn! reader

genre: ...suggestive

warnings: nothing actually happens, so none besides teasing

word count: ~1.3k

summary: You're doing an art study on muscles, and who's a better candidate for reference than your wonderful boyfriend who keeps feeding his delulu fanbase with half-naked pictures?

a/n: Well well well, Nat, you don't have to pay to see me write something like this after all (if you will ever see this, because no chance am I tagging you or anyone, dear). Here, have fun, this is the most spice anyone can get out of my asexual ass.

↳ Main Masterlist

All rights reserved. Please do not steal, repost or feed my work into AI. Thank you!

You were a very reserved person, something your partner knew all too well. Every touch the two of you shared throughout the entirety of your relationship had no heat behind it, each one only fueled by pure adoration and love. Never once did a kiss turn hungry, hell, there had barely been any kisses the two of you had shared due to your lack of need for the action. Chan knew it all too well, and while he craved more, he also respected it. The last thing he wanted to do was to make you uncomfortable, and so he’d never stepped over that line.

That was the exact reason for his current shyness, the confusion that wanted to sit onto his face hard to mask. There he stood in your doorway, the desk before your hunched form cluttered with pencils and little crumbs of dirty erasers. You were entirely too focused on the task at hand to notice your boyfriend's presence, the song that flowed through your headphones much too loud to hear any footsteps or even words. And so you continued drawing, clueless about anything as your lover watched you work, eyes flitting between your sketch and the endless reference pictures on your screen.

Pictures about him, his back fully on display and unclothed.

A touch broke you out of your concentration as you erased a line for the fourth time, scaring you into throwing away the pencil in your clutches just so you could tear the headphones off your head.

“Interesting art you have there, love.” - Chan mused, yet his skin was as flushed as ever.

You joined him as you could feel your own skin heating up, ashamed that you’d been caught like this. Eyes looked at everything besides your boyfriend, yet you found comfort in that warm touch of his.

“I was just… doing a study, on muscles.” - the words were but a mere whisper, hand quickly reaching to minimise your browser and just hide it from a certain pair of prying eyes.

Still, there was a feeling clawing at the cage of your soul, ripping at the flesh to be let out and rampage freely. It was feral and vicious, planting a thought into your head that seemed impossible to get out, no matter how alien it felt. You could feel your breath hitch at the image that popped into your head, memories of the images you had been staring at for a while now overlapping.

The hand on your shoulder gently squeezed, breaking you out of your derailing thoughts.

“I don't mind, baby, it just… caught me off guard? Glad you enjoyed my performances though.” - Chan’s voice was light, mixing well with the shyness he was trying to hide.

It only urged that fierceness inside to break free, granting you a surge of confidence you would have never had otherwise.

Without any words you finally glanced up at the man you loved, finding him utterly handsome; you would hone your artistic skills for the rest of your life just to capture a fragment of that beauty. His skin was dusted with a faint red, ears painted by the deepest of shades. Those eyes you loved to get lost in were alight with an emotion you had seen them only hold whenever he looked at the boys, and it took your breath away within a heartbeat.

Your body moved on its own, towering over him as you now stood. His hair was still slightly wet from the shower he must have just taken, and you just knew he had been originally on his way to his room to swap his bathrobe for those comfy, black clothes he loved to don in his free time.

He searched your gaze, unsure, yet trusting. His hands comfortably placed themselves onto your hips; their touch was warm, the man before you always running hot. It was something you loved as he balanced out your always cold hands wonderfully, reaching the perfect temperature you both enjoyed.

“Hey, love. How was work today?” - you asked, leaning closer than usual as you swiped those dark curls out of Chan’s face. He leaned into your touch, eyes closing for a second as he thought about his answer.

“The usual, although Hyunjin managed to piss off Minho again. It was a shoe this time that was the weapon, by the way.” - there was an airiness of joy to his words, yet no laugh accompanied it.

No, Chan was entirely too enamoured with the look you were giving him, as if you were worshipping him with your eyes alone. And maybe you were. With each look you studied the way your lover's skin moved, the shadows conforming accordingly. It lured you in, as if Chan was the siren and you were his prey, fated to be drowned in the vast oceans and seas.

He didn't move as you took him all in, hands eventually unable to keep themselves away. Your fingers were cold against the warmth of his fair skin, and you could hear his breath hitch, the muscles inside his neck moving beautifully.

There was something different in your touch, that much he knew, yet he wouldn't have it any other way.

As if you had never seen anything like it before, your hands glided over any free expanse of skin you could reach, memorising how the muscles hidden beneath curved and jumped at your touch. Never once did your eyes stray, wanting to remember every little detail. You wanted your art to be perfect, after all, to represent the real thing as closely as possible and that meant every little detail in their complete glory.

Your eyebrows furrowed as the white robe blocked you off, and so you slightly slid it off from one of Chan's shoulders. His hold on you tightened and you glanced at him briefly, seeing an intensity burning in those dark eyes, one you had never seen before.

You were playing with fire, and you could feel the heat of the danger.

Despite the clear wanting signs, you ignored them much like Icarus, hands now gliding down your lover's arm. Each touch held meaning, praising him in silence, singing odes about this man’s beauty. There was something so intriguing about watching the muscles connect to skin and bone, oh so perfectly toned and reacting to every touch of yours.

You stepped even closer, breaths mingling together as you reached into his robe, mapping out the vast skin of your partner's back. Every dip, every rise and imperfection was noted inside your head, the scorching star in Chan's eyes only growing in intensity as time passed. Your eyes flitted between those deadly stars and his neck, seeing it strain, muscles so tight that they jumped out of the skin in that lovely V-shape you could never grow bored of.

Then, as if something snapped, he gripped your waist with incredible force, not giving you a chance to escape. Despite that, no fear took residence inside you, your now warm fingers still laid peacefully on his shoulders.

“And what do I owe this extremely special moment to, baby?” - his words were a deep rumble, eyes begging for an answer with desperation.

“For being the most beautiful human to grace this planet, my wonderful love. Be my muse, please. Let me draw you, let me study you.” - you answered, one hand now cupping Chan's cheek tenderly, despite the uniquely heated situation.

As if that was the magic word to undo his binding, your lover moved, hauling your taller form easily onto the bed with him. There you were now, sat on his lap as he looked up at you expectantly, the intensity and love never diminishing in those bright eyes of his. Your sketchbook was still sitting beside you on the bed where you had originally thrown it at, hands itching to take it and immortalise what you had engraved into your mind in the past few minutes.

“I'll be your muse whenever, baby. All you needed to do was ask.”

[cranberrymoons]

here you are, standing there

prompt: bakery au (@steddieholidaydrabbles) rated: t word count: 880 tags: flirting, meet cute at the farmer's market, baker steve, writer eddie

There’s a farmer’s market in the park at the end of Eddie’s block which turns into a Christmas market as the weather gets cold.

He likes to bring his coffee there on Saturday mornings and find a seat on his favorite bench, just out of the way enough to be perfect for people watching but still close enough that he feels like part of the action. He brings a notebook with him when he does this, to scribble little thoughts to himself or sketch out an idea if he’s working on a new book, but mostly he just takes in the crowd and the air and the way people talk to each other as they shuffle past.

Like the bakery stall right across from his bench, with the stupid hot booth guy. 

Eddie doesn’t know if he’s the owner or a baker or just some college kid they hired to swipe people’s cards on his little iPad thing, but holy shit. Half the sketches in his book are of this guy's eyes or his hands or the special changing way the sun hits his face in the earlier parts of the morning, when it’s just coming up over the tops of the trees in the park.

It’s not creepy; he’s doing character research. He’s… observing the world around him. He’s a writer. Shut up.

He’s doing exactly this one Saturday morning in mid-November about a week before Thanksgiving when a shadow falls over his book. He glances up slowly, eyes trailing up from Hot Booth Guy’s hands to the sunny pattern of flowers embroidered on his apron and all the way up to his face where he’s standing two paces out of reach and staring down at Eddie with an amused little smile on his face.

And – fuck, he’s even hotter up close; Eddie had sort of hoped, for his own sanity if nothing else, that he’d be one of those people who looked weird on closer inspection, but nope. Here he is in all his square-jawed, golden-tanned Hot Booth Guy glory.

He raises his eyebrows and Eddie clears his throat. 

“Um,” he says intelligently. “Hi.”

Hot Booth Guy’s smile widens, and he lets out a little laugh. 

“Hi.” He holds out a crinkly paper bag, and Eddie blinks down at it. “Thought you might want some breakfast.”

Eddie tilts his head to the side. “But I didn’t buy anything?”

Hot Booth Guy nods. “That’s correct.”

He holds the bag out again and wiggles it at him until Eddie accepts it, narrowing his eyes as he peeks inside at the perfect crackly flaky croissant nestled inside. He rips off a piece of it and pops it in his mouth, and Hot Booth Guy smiles as he watches him eat.

“Thank you,” Eddie says. He takes a breath. “This is… really good. Just – why?”

Hot Booth Guy shrugs a little, shoving his hands in his apron pockets. 

“You’re here every weekend and you never stop by,” he says. “Thought I might lure you in with one of my croissants since nothing else was working.”

Eddie lets out a surprised laugh as he takes another bite of croissant. It really is a fucking great croissant. He squints into the sun as he looks up. 

“Lure me in?” 

“Yeah, gotta –” Hot Booth Guy mimes a lasso, throwing it in Eddie’s direction and using it to pull himself a step closer. “One of us has to make the first move. You obviously weren’t going to, so.”

And Eddie feels his cheeks heat in spite of the slight chill in the air. He raises his eyebrows. “I didn’t realize there were moves to be made.”

Hot Booth Guy just smiles. “What’s your name?”

“Eddie,” Eddie says. “Not – I mean, I am, and… you are, just –” He takes a breath. “I’m a writer. I just like to people watch sometimes? It helps me get dialogue down in my head. The rhythm of the way people talk? Things like that.”

Hot Booth Guy smiles. “So you’re not interested in getting lunch after one of the Saturday markets?”

Eddie raises his eyebrows as he takes a sip of his coffee. “You haven’t even told me your name yet.”

Hot Booth Guy taps his apron, just above the flowers, where Steve is embroidered in sloping pink cursive. 

“Oh,” Eddie says.

“Oh,” Steve repeats. “I’m just saying, if you’d bought a muffin or a cookie or even a bagel at any point this summer, you would have –”

“Okay,” Eddie says, smiling in spite of himself even as he flushes. “I get it.”

“You would’ve gotten my name weeks ago. Probably even my number.”

“Oh, was that embroidered on your hat?”

Steve laughs, and he’s so, so lovely when he laughs, big smile and crinkled eyes, and Eddie feels something fizzy and sweet curl in his chest. He finishes the croissant as Steve’s laugh quiets down, and Eddie smiles up at him as he wads the bag into a ball and tosses it into the trash next to them.

“So?” Steve asks. “Lunch? Preferably today so I can start the wooing process before the Christmas rush really kicks in.”

Eddie nods a little, folding his notebook shut against his knees. “I’d like that,” he says. “The wooing, and also the number.”

[also on ao3]

[notsopersonalcharlie]

Honey Belle

Biker!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader fluff - Part of the Biker!Bucky Series

One part lead-up to the future and one part how Bucky and belle met.

Warnings: Mentions of sex and alcohol, discussion of a past relationship that bordered on abusive (non-binary reference), more car talk because i love mini coopers.

Note: My apologizes because i lost all my progress on this when i was about halfway through. Also I just have brainrot about them now sorry in advance.

"No no no no, please baby you can make it its just a litt-" The engine shuddered and then gave out. You groaned, banging your head against the steering wheel as you pulled off to the side of the quiet street. It was getting stifling in the car very quickly. The heat wave was precisely why you needed to take Baby Blue in. Your phone showed another mile and a half on the map you saved. This shop was in some dead end town, but it was the only one that had agreed to service the vintage coop.

"Couldn't have saved me the walk?" you asked to the car as you grabbed your bag and hauled it over your shoulder. You scrawled a note to leave on the windshield and began down the straight road. The trees on either side provided some shade, but there was no sidewalk, so as you continued you could peek back at your car and to check on any oncoming traffic.

The first signs of life you saw came ten minutes into your walk. You hadn't gotten far. It was sweltering and you had to leave straight from work, so your shoes were the least comfortable thing to walk in as you sweat.

Two motorcycles were headed your way, and to your surprise they both stopped. One was wearing a light brown leather jacket, and he pulled off his helmet immediately. He had blond hair and a kind looking smile, but you were also alone in a mysterious location with no signal.

"Hey, you alright?" You stared at them, and took a step back when he took a step toward you.

"Uh-"

"You had an appointment at the Howling Commando? Twenty minutes ago? Blue vintage Austin Mini Cooper?" The other guy had popped up his visor, but hadn't taken off the helmet yet. His blue eyes were sharp, watching you. You took another two steps back.

"Buck, lose the helmet," the blond guy admonished, "We work there, you said when you called that you were worried about the heat and the engine, so when you no-showed we thought you might have gotten stuck. I'm Steve. We talked on the phone the first time I think, and then you talked to Yelena to get the details." The other guy pulled off his helmet and you thought your heart might stop. Sure the blond, Steve, was handsome in a clean cut preppy kind of way, but this guy looked like he walked out of one of the fantasy books your read as a kid. Dark eyebrows slanted over his bright blue eyes, his scruff adding to the rugged look he was sporting. He waved, a shy smile slicing away the fear you had held entirely. It changed his face, you wanted to make it happen again.

"Bucky. We'll get you all fixed up."

-/-/-/-/-

"Belle, ya home?" You looked up from your laptop. You hadn't been able to pull yourself away from the document you were building for the new hires.

"Yeah- I- oh shit. I forgot to start dinner." You turned to find Bucky stepping through the doorway from the kitchen. His grease stained tshirt was tossed over his shoulder already, leaving all his tattoos on display. One in particular always caught your attention, the sketch of a mini cooper right over his heart.

"How many time do I gotta tell you?" He asked, dropping the shirt in the hallway before coming over to you. You stood, tilting your chin to look up at him as he wrapped one arm around your back and cradled the back of your neck with the other.

"You don't have to worry about that stuff, honey. I'll take care of dinner. Finish up your work, it'll be done in no time."

"I need a break, baby, seriously. I'll help." His eyes narrowed.

"You sure?" You nodded, turning back to hit save and taking his outstretched hand to go back into the kitchen. You chopped veggies while he marinated chicken and he told you about his day at the shop. It was a familiar routine by now, three years into your relationship, but you couldn't help but feel the guilt in your stomach again. He spent all day on his feet.

"Hey, lose the face." You looked up at him.

"What?"

"I can feel your thoughts from over here." He set down the spices, rinsing his hands and patting them dry before coming over to you and wrapping you up in his arms. He was anything but weak, and carefully lifted you onto the unoccupied part of the counter and stood between your legs, looking you dead in the eye. You blinked slowly, trying not to fall into the trap of his icy-blue silence. It was impossible.

"I just feel bad is all, you spend all day on your feet and working and then you come home and make dinner. It feels, not fair." Bucky tilted his head to the side, eyebrows up. It was a conversation you had all the time, and you knew how he felt about it. He did serious very well, even if you knew there was a smile lurking just behind it.

"You know that's not how I feel. I love taking care of you. You work so hard every day trying to change the world for the better. I go dick around with my friends all day playing with cars." You snorted.

"I'm serious! My number one and most important job is taking care of my girl. I will make you dinner every night for the rest of our lives together, if that's what it takes to prove it."

"You don't have to do-"

"Nope, you're banished from the kitchen. Go feed Alpine. Get lost." You laughed, taking his face into your hands before he could lift you back off the counter. His lips were warm and soft, and his hands wrapped tighter around your middle as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss before pulling away. You rested your forehead against his, breathing in the smell of motor oil and coffee.

"I love you, James Barnes." He gave you that sweet smile, the one that transformed him into an entirely different man.

"I love you, honey belle. Now get the fuck outta my kitchen."

-/-/-/-/-

You woke up and stretched, yawning as your rubbed your eyes and sat up. And then you became aware again that you were not in your own room and you were laying in an empty bed. You glanced around, noting the distinct lack of a tall tattooed biker who had left hickeys on your chest and had all but fucked you to sleep the night before.

In his place lay a small gray cat, it sat up when you did and surveyed you before jumping gracefully off the bed and leaving out the open door. You stood up, glancing at yourself in the mirror. You were wearing a shirt that said the Howling Commandos Garage and Bar on the front. It was well worn and soft, with little frays on the bottom and the collar. Your hair was a mess and you smoothed it out before following the cat into the rest of the apartment. Your clothes which had been strewn across the living room were neatly folded in a pile on the back of the couch, and there was a note scrawled on top.

Had to head off to fix up your baby. Coffee in the pot. Stay if you'd like. Bucky

Bucky looked wistfully down the block at his apartment building.

"What is your deal today, Barnes?" Sam asked. He was newer, and Steve had brought him in to tend bar, but also help with the books at the garage. Bucky grumbled that they didn't need new people, and Steve returned with patience that just because Bucky didn't want to make new friends, didn't mean they didn't need new staff.

"He's got a crush," Steve laughed from the other side of a pickup.

"I'll have you know I sealed that deal," Bucky shot back. There was a thunk sound and then Steve appeared over the hood, rubbing the top of his head.

"What the hell are you doing there then?" Bucky shrugged.

"She was still asleep. I left her coffee and a note." Sam snorted.

"See her never."

"Her car is literally right in front of me."

"She's gonna take it somewhere else," Sam shot back. Bucky's eyes narrowed, dropping the wrench he had on hand. He was starting towards Sam when a new voice echoed through the garage.

"I would really appreciate it if you fixed my car, not got blood on it." You strolled in the front of the garage and Bucky considered falling to his knees and begging for you to stay with him forever. You were wearing your jeans and sandals from the night before, but on top you had on his Howling Commandos shirt with the original design and logo. You were holding one of the mugs from his kitchen and had an easy smile on your face.

"I thought I'd come check on the progress on my baby. Maybe learn a thing or two." Steve smirked at Bucky and turned back to his work. Sam had suddenly made himself scarce into the office.

"Sure thing, but can't let you learn too much, you might notice some things going wrong just so you can stop by to see me." You nudged Bucky with your elbow, taking a sip of coffee as you followed him back to your car.

"I don't know, I think I could have other reasons to stop by and see you."

-/-/-/-/-

You woke up to sunlight coming in through the open curtains. Bucky was sound asleep on his stomach, face pressed into his pillow and his arm thrown over you. After a moment of relishing the cuteness of him keeping you close while he was asleep, you slipped out of his grasp and headed for the kitchen.

It was mostly clean, and you started a pot of coffee for the morning before tidying up just a little bit more. Bucky had slipped in after you fell asleep. He was working the bar when you left full of a burger and with kisses pepper to your nose promising he'd be home soon. The rest of the staff had ribbed him endlessly while saying goodnight to you.

You grumbled to yourself about having to wake Bucky's whining ass up to take you to work when you noticed something on the counter. Your car keys. Trying not to get your hopes up, you peeked out the front windows and let out a squeal when you saw your car sitting in the driveway, a comically small bow on the hood.

"Wha-Who's there?" Bucky ran out in just his boxers, fists up prepared to fight an intruder apparently, but instead got a chestful of you.

"She's done?" It took him a moment to register what who you were and what you were referring to.

"Huh? Oh. Yeah, belle, she's done." You threw your arms around Bucky's shoulders, squeezing him tight.

"Thank you thank you thank you! She'll run for another three years? No problems?" Bucky held you tight, sleep already returning as he nuzzled against your neck.

"Even better. She should be alright for at least another five to ten." You pressed kisses to his face and then his hands, and kissed him goodbye for the day. Your outfit for the morning was already hanging in the bathroom and it made your morning to not have to pack extra clothes for the bike. Instead you put your coffee in a to go mug, your lunchbox in your purse, and headed for the door. The car started up with a hum and you patted the dash, turning on your favorite radio station and rolling down the windows on your way to work.

-/-/-/-/-

You sighed on your way into your apartment. Bucky said he was headed over after you left, and now you had to clean up and start on dinner. Work had been exhausting, and you had found yourself fixing other peoples' work first thing in the morning, which put you back on your own deadlines.

Still, you tossed your bag onto the black hole chair of random items in the bedroom and changed out of your work clothes into something comfy for movie night. You had bought all the ingredients for homemade pizzas over the weekend when you were ambitious about when you were going to get out of work.

"Five minutes on the couch," you muttered to yourself, "then back to work." Five minutes quickly turned into doom scrolling until Bucky knocked on your front door.

"Shit." You jumped off the couch and started pulling things out of the fridge frantically to make it look like you had already started the process. The knocking grew frantic after a minute and you rushed to the door. Bucky's eyes were wide, but he relaxed when he saw you were fine.

"Sorry, I didn't hear you." His soft smile melted your nerves a fraction, and he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips.

"You had a long day, I understand." He followed you into the kitchen, and you frowned at the array you had pulled out. Sure you had the pizza dough and sauce but also a jar of pickles, some miso, and a block of tofu.

"What were you planning on making?" Bucky asked, examining the contents of a mystery tupperware.

"Uh..." You considered coming up with a lie about cleaning your fridge, panic welling back up that he would be upset you had gotten sidetracked away from making dinner.

"I... I'm sorry, I panicked when I heard you because I hadn't started making dinner and I knew you would be hungry so I just started pulling things out of the fridge and I..." you could feel yourself beginning to ramble into a spiral.

"Woah! Woah, belle, calm down. It's okay!" Bucky came around the counter, hands on your shoulders to ground you.

"It is really okay, belle, I know you had a long day. You don't have to make me dinner. I mean it. You work long hours and clean up other people's messes all day." You could feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes and looked down at the logo of some motorcycle brand on Bucky's shirt.

"You just work all day at the shop and I know that can be exhausting, so I just wanted to make you food so you'll be..." you trailed off. So he would be what? Had never gotten pissed at you because dinner wasn't on the table or that you didn't get him his drink before yours. He had never thrown his empty can in your direction when you didn't get a new one for him before it was empty. Bucky called your name, pushing your chin up to meet his eyes. They were big and blue and full of concern that grew when he saw the tears in yours.

"Honey, where is this coming from? We could have ordered takeout for all I cared?"

You swallowed and took a deep breath.

"My ex, they were blue collar. Worked in construction. They didn't... they thought I should do all the housework and make dinner since I sat at a desk all day. They would get... angry when I didn't or said I was too tired or it wasn't ready when they got home or I ran out of their favorite drink and... I just want you to be happy." Bucky's frown had deepened and the concern in his blue eyes had turned to anger.

"Where are they now? Who would ever do that to you?" His head turned to see if he could spot any memory of them in the apartment. To your surprise it made you laugh to see him be so protective over something that wasn't there.

"Long gone. I moved states away to leave them. It's why I've been working so much, honestly. When I switched positions I had to do it for a cut, since at the headquarters I was making more. I don't regret it for a second though." You were looking at him now, sincere. If you never moved you wouldn't have been looking for an apartment when your car overheated and you had to go to the Howling Commando. You would have never met Bucky or found an apartment a few blocks away from the bar and him.

"I'm glad you made it here too," he said finally. He wrapped his arms around you, big arms keeping you safe and his chin on your head grounding you to him.

"I know you spend every day working super hard with people you don't really like. I know you love what you do, but I would never hold any of that against you. I spend every day working with my best friends for as long as or short as I'd like. If you never cook me dinner again, I would still be happy as long as we get to sit down and eat together." He paused, and you could feel his heart beat a little faster, a shift in his posture. For the first time:

"And I love you." Your heart leapt, the tears that you had been wiping against his tshirt flowed again.

"I love you too, Bucky."

-/-/-/-/-

You texted Bucky on your way out of work, and blessedly got into your own car with air-conditioning and seatbelts. Not that you didn't trust Bucky or that you didn't like to ride with him, but it was nice to have a seat to sit in.

You began the journey home, it feeling a little longer than it had for the last few weeks when you clung to Bucky's middle with your eyes closed. You were most of the way home when a telltale rumble of motorcycles started up behind you on the long empty road. It reminded you of the first time you rode with Bucky, down this very same road when your car broke down and he took you back to the shop with him while Steve waited with the car. He had said, after securing his extra helmet to your head, that it would be only time you ever rode without the proper shoes or pants on. You had responded cheekily, since he was hot and it didn't seem like it could hurt the speed at which your car got fixed, that he was suggesting that there would be another time. He had followed that with a quick, "I have your phone number. I find another time."

The bikes were getting closer, four of them, and to your surprise Bucky wasn't with them. Steve and Sam rode on either side of you, offering salutes. You couldn't identify who the two behind were but you could tell one of them was Yelena or Natasha. It was not a regular procession, though when they did see your distinctive car when out riding, they always did stop by for a wave. Instead of leading you home, Sam and Steve guided your car to the parking lot at the Howling Commando. The fairy lights were up for the summer and a few of the regulars were already outside enjoying the weather.

"I was going to go home first you know," you whined at Steve, tossing your blazer into the passenger seat before getting out of the car.

"I think this is more important," he said, turning you away from the bar and toward the shop. The garage doors were open, but inside was obstructed by the shadows from the sunset. When you stepped in you froze. The cars and equipment had all been cleared out and a beautiful flower arrangement was across the floor, Bucky was standing a few feet away, looking nervous as the first time he came to pick you up for dinner. He spotted you and swallowed, standing up straighter as you walked towards him.

"Bucky..." You didn't have the words to say as you joined him in the array of flowers.

"Belle. I love you, I have loved you since the minute I saw you on the side of the road. From the second you wrapped your arms around me on my bike for the first time. The first night we spent together and every night since then I have known that I would spend the rest of my life with you. I promise I will make dinner every night if that's what it takes." You grinned at the little inside joke, tears pouring down your cheeks as he got down on one knee.

"Make me the happiest idiot in the world and marry me?"

"Of course I will. I love you."

[deadbeat-motel]

ᑕᕼEᖇᖇIᗷOᗰᗷ ᗩᑎᗪ ᔕIᖇᑭEᑎTIOᑌᔕ ᖇEᗪEᔕIGᑎ

The last two designs for the main cast. With these two done, I can finally work on miscellaneous characters that I've been eyeing the most.

Again, thoughts below the cut:

My issues with their Original designs:

Sir Pentious:

I thought I would only have one thing to say about him (the unnecessary eyes) since he was my favorite in the entire original cast but having taken a closer look at him for this, I saw a lot of things that bothers me.

Too many eyes. specifically the lower half of his body has too many eyes and it seems detrimental to him. It's kind of painful to think about it since I do not think we ever see those eyes close. Is he just slithering on the ground with those exposed eyes? That's got to be irritating at best and damaged at worst as he continuously slithers on them.

There are eyes on the bowtie and the hat? There are already 4 extra eyes on his hood, so why have even more? I get that the original Pentious design was basically a monsterous amalgamation of eyes but the eye thing could have been scrapped altogether.

While his palette was the least red out of the cast (More so composed of yellows), it still blends in with the rest of the reds.

The claws are an unnecessary repeating design trait (Alastor and Vox notably have them too). I don't think it would've been too big of a difference to just keep his fingers fully black.

The stripes on his suit are too thick. It's called pinstripes for a reason.

I don't like how the hat is shaped to fit the head, It's awkward.

not a point, but I just wanted to say how the blue color palette works really well with him in that last episode.

CherriBomb:

She's not that bad of a design (She's sort of bland in my opinion) but it's the little small details about her that makes her so simple and also so complicated at the same time. There are so many batches of freckles scattered everywhere, little explosion lines on her skirt as well as the X on her chest, the tattoos are a jamble of random loops and bombs, and her tattering doesn't have an easy shape to consistently draw.

The thought process for these two:

Mx. Pentious:

Pentious goes by both Sir/Miss/Mx. but uses she/they pronouns.

Minimized the actual amount of eyes on her, I kept it only to her actual eyes and those on her hood.

Gave her a butterfly-shaped hood. It's nothing deep since it stems from the fact the notches in Sir Pentious' hood almost looked like one to my bad eyesight. I decided to play more into that idea.

I read some posts where people talk about how Sir Pentious should have a snout and while I understand why and fully support people giving him one, I really didn't want to add the snout to this design. It drove me crazy since I'm not a big fan of it. I tried a compromise where her head was shaped more like Phineas.

Kept the tophat but removed its eye and mouth. If I remember correctly, Viv took that from one of her co-workers from the pilot. I decided to just have it as a regular tophat.

It doesn't have all the colors, but her design does have the Neptunic flag.

I'm not sure if this even is a real snake but I based Mx. Pentious' design on this:

CherriBomb:

Scraped most of her features in exchange for a sukeban theme. I personally have zero knowledge about the punk scene in Australia.

A majority of the suggestions I received for her rough draft had something to do with the skirt. I elongated it and gave it a slit in which the magenta from the inside is able to pop out.

Thought it would be a cute detail to have her hair explode if she's angry.

----

Apologies this took too long to be posted, Life got in the way as well as the fact I was feeling shitty about Pentious' first draft. Her skin was an awkward and ugly shade of green and seeing some posts critical of Pentious' design got me to think a little bit more about what direction I'd like to move her redesign.

You could see this in the earlier rough sketches but this was how Pentious' first redesign looked like

[bitchyycapricorn]

Draw Me Like One of Your Italian Girls

Peter Parker x Artist!Reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 2k

Synopsis: During a school trip to Venice Italy, Peter finds himself in his classmates room.

Warnings:Smut!, unprotected sex, consumption of alcohol (reader and Peter are 18+ legal age), intoxicated sex, nude artwork, could be considered dubcon

AN: not edited. This has been in my drafts for over a month.

Your eyes flicker from the reference on your laptop, then back down to your paper. Your pencil sketches smooth charcoal lines across the off white paper. Furrowing your brows, you shift the image slightly to get a better look at the image displayed on your screen. 

“Hey Y/N, what are you up to?” Peter asks, popping his head into your room. 

Stopping your movement, your eyes drift up to where he’s leaning against the doorway. “Drawing,” you reply with a small smile before going back to your sketch. 

Peter shifts awkwardly at the door, “Like a picture?” The words come out before he can fully think about what he was saying. And as soon as they came out, he wanted to drown himself in the canal. 

Another smile appears across your face, this time it stays for a moment. “No, I’m drawing up a plan to murder the rest of the class before fleeing the city to live as a fugitive in Rome.”

He gives a small laugh before nodding. “O-oh yeah, that makes sense.” 

You catch the nervous twitch in his voice, the way his body appears to be more tense than usual. “You can come in and shut the door.” You say after a moment of silence. 

He nods quickly, stepping into your hotel room before closing the door. “So uh, where’s your roommate?” Peter asks after fully shuffling into your room. 

“Brads room.” You shrug. 

Another “oh,” escapes his lips knowing that your roommate wouldn’t be back anytime soon. You give a small nod before patting the spot next to you on the bed. “So um, what are you drawing?” Peter asks finally. 

A blush spreads across your cheeks as you tilt the picture for him to see. His eyes scan the drawing and he immediately recognizes him and Ned near the docks. 

“You were actually in the way when I was taking my picture, but I decided you both were cute enough to make the cut.” You tease. 

Peter could feel his face starting to flush again, “cute enough?” He laughs. 

Giving a simple nod, you continue your work. “So what brings you to my room Parker?”

Peter debates whether he wants to be honest or not. On one hand, he could say he had a question about tomorrows tour. On the other, he could ask you to go on a walk with him along the canals. Mainly so that he can confess his feelings for you, which he’s been bottling up since as long as he can remember. “Would you like to walk with me?” He asks quickly, deciding it was worth a shot. 

“Mm, but that would mean I’d have to step out of my artistic zone.” You hum, finishing the last of the sketch and setting it on your nightstand. 

“Y-yeah of course, I’ll just-“ Peter replies as he moves towards the door, assuming you were politely turning down his advances. 

Panic quickly floods your brain as you watch him begin to leave. “Wait!” 

Peter pauses, turning to face you. “Yeah?”

“Stay, let me draw you.” The words tumble from your mouth in a hurry, as you pray the brunette boy won’t exit your room, at least not yet. 

Peter’s body seems to stiffen even more before slowly relaxing ad he looks around the room for a moment. “You want to draw me?” 

A hum leaves your lips as you gaze hopefully at Peter. “I enjoyed drawing you in this one,” you nod to the picture on your nightstand, “you have a nice figure.”

Another blush spreads across Peters face as he takes a seat on the small bench in your room. 

“Is this good?” He asks, trying to sit up straight for you. 

“Yes, just stay still…”

+++

You had been drawing and posing Peter for the last four hours. Somewhere around 11 you had both found the ‘complimentary’ drink assortment stored away in the little cabinet. 

You weren’t really sure which glass of wine/alcohol you and Peter were on now, just that you were stumbling slightly and giggling like crazy. 

Peter’s shirt had been discarded to the floor some time ago and you were still busy ogling over his toned chest. His defined muscles and hard abs that were otherwise hidden by his clothes made the butterflies in your stomach twist and turn. 

“Take your pants off now,” you slur, running your hands down Peters chest as you both stumble around the room. 

“My pants?” Peter quips, equally as drunk. 

“Mhm, I wanna draw you neeked,” a giggle escapes your lips as your fingers fumble around with the zipper of Peter’s jeans. 

It takes a moment for Peter to understand exactly what you want, but once it hits his jeans and boxers are discarded on the floor in a small pile. “Like this?” He coos, throwing his arms in the air to show off his now very naked figure. 

You clap your hands together and squeal, “Good good, now pose for me.” Peter stands there with his hands on his hips, puffing out his chest. Your eyes scan his body up and down, taking in the sight of not only his hard chest, but his hard dick as well. “God you’re built like a Greek god,” you breathe, quickly beginning to sketch. 

Peter hums before giving you a smirk. “Or Roman god since we’re in Venice.” 

“Modeled after the Greek gods sweetheart,” you snicker, making the outline of his abs with your pencil. 

“Are you as turned on as I am right now?” He asks after a few minutes. 

“Yes.” You say without hesitation, moving your pencil downwards to sketch his throbbing cock. “After I finish this I’ll suck your dick.” You giggle again.  

“Oh god,” Peter moans, feeling his cock twitch at the thought. “Are you done yet?”

“No silly. I’m still drawing your penis.” Another snicker leaves your lips as you delicately sketch out Peter’s lower regions. 

Peter lets out a groan, shaking his hips slightly. “Look it moves!” 

You look up to see Peter swishing his dick back and forth causing you to let out a loud shriek. “You have to stay still so I can finish!” A wheezey laugh leaves your chest as you move down to draw his legs. “I’m almost done I promise,” you grin. 

“Well hurry,” Peter whines, staying as still as his drunk little body could. 

“Shhh you can’t rush perfection.” You hush, moving as quickly as you could through your sketch. It took a few more minutes before you turned the drawing around to show Peter. “Look. You’re like the statue David.” You beam proudly. 

He gives you a lopsided grin before quickly scampering over to your bed. “Take your cloths off too and I’ll draw you!” He ushers as you add the sketch to the many others from that night. 

“Okay okay,” quickly getting up you strip completely, kicking your cloths off to the pile of Peter’s clothes. A low hum escapes his lips as he takes your sketch pad and pencil. 

“Pose!” He grins, watching you get into the same pose as him. You place your hands on your hips and stick your chest out proudly.

“Boobs…” Peter mumbles, sketching out a big circle for your head, followed by a stick body, stick legs, and stick arms. He then adds your hair, eyes, and a smile. Looking at the photo for a minute he realizes what he’s missing. “Boobs,” he says again as he draws two boobs onto your stick body. “Perfect!” He cries as he turns it around to show you. 

“Oh! Oh! You’re an artist! A sexy sexy artist,” you cry, wobbling over to Peter so you can throw yourself into his arms. Your legs straddle his hips, hands going into his soft curly hair. His lips press sloppily to yours as he tosses the notebook to the ground. His hands move up to your hips, squeezing the plush skin. 

“Fuck you’re so hot.” He moans against your lips. “The reason I asked you to walk with me earlier was because I wanted to tell you how I feel. I wanted to kiss you in front of the bridge.” His lips press against yours again before continuing. “But this is so much better.” 

“Is it because we’re naked?” You moan, grinding your hips into his. You’re slick gliding over his hard cock as you rock your hips. 

“Fuck, yes.” He groans, eager to be in you.

You let your another moan as you continue to move your hips against his. “Can I put it in me?” You beg, as if you could read Peter’s mind.

He nods as he kisses you again “please,” he groans as he helps lift your hips up. You quickly reach between the two of you so you could line him up at your entrance. Peter helps you ease down onto his throbbing cock. His tip barley enters you before his hips involuntarily buck upwards. You let out a small cry as he bottoms out into your sensitive cunt, eyes fluttering shut as his hips drop back down onto the bed. 

Another gasp leaves your lips as Peter begins to bounce you up and down his shaft. “Fuck you feel so good Y/N,” he growls in your ear. His fingers digging into your skin as he helps guide your sloppy, drunken movements as you grind on his dick. 

He’s so deep in you that you can practically feel him bulging in your stomach. “Peter fuck, you’re filling me so well,” you gasp as his hips thrust up into yours now. A feeling in your stomach begins to grow as Peter continues his brutal attack, his cock going deeper into you with every thrust. 

Stars begin to form in your vision as you press your chest into Peter’s face, his hands keeping your hips still so he can thrust up into you. His hips snap up to yours again as the feeling in the pit of your stomach grows, slowly spreading all over your body. You let out a strangled cry, feeling yourself come undone, cunt clenching around Peters dick making him moan. Your orgasm spreads all over your body like a hot fire, Peter helping to grow the flame as he keeps thrusting into you. 

His hips falter for only a moment before he gives one last deep thrust into you, filling your cunt with his cum. Your body goes slack as you fall forward into Peter. His brain and body going completely blank as well as he falls backwards, bringing you with him.

+++

Your eyes flutter open to the sight of Peter’s face only inches from yours, his hot breath fanning your cheek. You can feel his hot skin on yours as you go to unstick yourself from his sweaty grasp. Your head is pounding and your whole body feels weak. As you sit up it becomes evident that Peter had stayed in you the entire night. As your hips shifted slightly you could feel his dick hardening in you again, filling you up like he had the night before. 

A small groan escapes Peter’s lips as he shifts on the bed. His eyes peel open, looking around the unfamiliar room. A small shriek escapes from his mouth when he notices you sitting naked on his lap, his dick buried inside your cum filled cunt. 

“Sh sh, what the fuck happened?” You groan, holding your head as you look around your now destroyed room. 

“Shit, I think we had sex!” Peter groans, memories slowly coming back to him. 

“Oh fuck,” you mumble, noticing the the abundance of empty bottles discarded around the room. Your eyes travel over to the nightstand where an assortment of drawings lay spread out. All of them are Peter, some with his clothes on, some with his shirt off, then the one of him completely nude… Oh, and the one Peter drew of you. 

“I’m so so sorry, this is all my fault,” Peter sputters, guilt building up in his stomach as he realizes what truly happened last night. 

You let out a long sigh before laughing. “Why are you apologizing? I had a blast, even if some things are a bit fuzzy.”

Peter stops his profuse apologizes, eyeing you carefully. “You aren’t mad?” 

You shake your head, letting out a small hum as you eye the pictures again. “No, I’m glad you came into my room last night.”

+++

Taglist

@nataliewalker93 @sarapaprikas-blog @justkeepitblanc @sickomodesmell @etaerealboy @purplerose291 @witheringawayagain @arij3lly @dandelionqueen @brightlilith @laurens2002 @siriusly1 @shugrcrush @hazzarules @cl0v3r-s0up @jibiwoni @maria-pqrker @just-henny @little-jana @ellie-emb @valslittleheart @reeseisinapiece @happilyneverafter69 @gram-cracker24 @kisstheskin @whenmypartysover @nightiresss @wowitsem @chinaza444 @sherlockstrangewolf @daisydark @shine101 @moniffazictress11 @cryptidcreaturewrites @severenpcenergy

[imgoingtofreakoutnow]

Sketch me down, see me through – pt. 1

Summary: After a quiet day, you decide to sketch Astarion

Pairing: Astarion x Tav

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: it's really just a fluffy thing, lots of pining, they're both touch-starved

A/N: I wrote this a while back and it's not too bad, so enjoy! Here you can find Part 2 (@tripleyeeet you know this already but enjoy still! also, @yn-ymn-yln you might like this)

\_/

The day was slowly fading into the night as the fire of the camp stretched towards the burning sky.

It had been a weirdly uneventful day: you had wandered around without a real aim or purpose all day, mostly enjoying the view than actively looking for more loot. You still managed to stumble across a couple of lonely barrels and chests, gaining nothing really useful other than a well-crafted dagger with neat gold details in the handle.

Your companions were nowhere to be seen, probably drinking in the village nearby or resting in their tents or simply enjoying the company of somebody else.

As you sat alone next to the fire, sketching a bird roaming a few feet away and looking for food in the grass, you didn’t really mind a chance to enjoy your own company.

“There you are!”

The bird flew away in a ruffle of feathers when Astarion’s voice rumbled in the small clearing your camp was set in.

“I thought you had joined the others at the tavern,” he said, plopping down behind you with a tired sigh.

“I wasn’t really in the mood for drinking…” you mumbled with a shrug, your hand jotting down the last details of the bird before they left your brain, “or being among other people.”

“I better hope you don’t mind my company.”

His head popped over your shoulder, but you didn’t raise your gaze from the drawing, too focused shading the charcoal with your finger than giving in to his egotistical nature.

“You know I don’t,” you assured, blowing away the excess black dust from the parchment, “but you did make my model fly away.”

Astarion scanned silently the small sketchbook still open in your hands from behind your shoulder. You could feel his breath brushing your ear, creating a web of shivers that ran one after the other along your spine.

“Look at that.” His fingers reached for your drawing. You held your breath as they hovered over the dark and slightly smudged lines. “I had no idea we had such a talented artist within our group.”

“I’m not that good,” you scoffed with a smile, turning your head ever so slightly towards his, “but thank you.”

“However,” he continued, scratching thoughtfully his chin, “you could definitely use a better model.”

You nodded slowly, pressing your lips together before clicking your tongue. “You’re right, I should ask Gale to pose for me.”

“Gale?!”

“Or Shadowheart,” you added, ignoring his insulted tone. “Her features are so soft, perfect for a portrait.” You met his eyes with a grin. “Don’t you agree?”

Astarion huffed through his nose, pulling back and leaning on his arms. “I suppose she could be a decent model, but I don’t see her around to be sketched.”

You snorted, turning around on your seat to face his narrow scarlet eyes.

“Oh, is my annoyance amusing to you?”

“If you wanted me to sketch you so badly,” you started, turning to a blank page of your sketchbook, “you could’ve simply asked.”

Astarion stared at you for a second, his lips slightly parted and his eyes wide in surprise. Those were the small expressions that you loved more about him: those seconds in between, where his facade broke for a moment, revealing something so brief that simply couldn’t be faked.

Then he cleared his throat and his mask of smugness covered his face once again, annihilating whatever real emotion that had made its appearance on his features. “If you insist, darling.”

He laid down on the grass, propping himself up with his elbow. His head rested on his closed fist, tilted as his half-lidded gaze was stuck on you. “So, how do you want me?”

You swallowed the sudden lump in your throat. No matter how many times he looked at you like that or his words tickled your brain with lewd thoughts, Astarion always managed to stir something in your guts; a pull you couldn’t always ignore, especially when you were completely alone.

“You can just sit up,” you assured him, breaking away from his eyes to sharpen your pencil. “I’m not that good of an artist to draw you like that,” you explained a moment later, pointing at the relaxed —and obviously thought-out— position he was in.

“As you wish.”

Surprisingly, Astarion immediately followed your request, sitting back up with not even one objecting word.

“Nevertheless,” he murmured, leaning towards you, “if anatomy is the department you lack, I’ll be more than happy to aid you with your… sketches.” A devilish grin appeared on his face as his hand moved in the air with his words. “In every position you might ever need.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Your calm voice and mischievous grin, almost mirroring Astarion’s, were in no way a faithful reflection of the turmoil storming your chest and mind.

“Now stay still,” you told him, your focus slowly shifting to the drawing as you started laying down the first few guiding lines.

“I’ll be as immovable as a rock, darling.”

“And silent,” you mumbled, your eyes darting from the page to Astarion’s slightly vexed expression.

Astarion noticed your frowning, however he had no time to articulate the question on the tip of his tongue that you had leaned in. Your hand reached out hesitantly, almost waiting for him to pull away or shoving you back in an instinctive reaction. But he didn’t.

You gently grabbed his chin, guiding his face slightly to the side. Then your thumb moved to the spot between his eyebrows, smoothing away the crease of irritation altering his features. You could feel the tension in his muscles give away under your touch, any resistance crumbling under your fingertips.

“There,” you whispered, admiring the calm expression on Astarion’s face. “Can you stay like that for a while?”

“Of course, darling.”

Your heart skipped a beat when he spoke. There was a sudden softness to him, one that you had never seen for longer than the blink of an eye. It was almost overwhelming, even after you had lowered your gaze to work on the small portrait.

Your pencil, guided by your hand, moved quickly on the page. You didn’t really need to look at Astarion to sketch him. His cheekbones, the curve of his lips, the shape of his eyes, his features had long been carved in your mind.

If he had taken the sketchbook —as you feared he was going to— when he appeared next to you, he would’ve found pages and pages covered in quick and small drawings of him. Studies of his face, hair, hands; whatever your mind could recall accurately.

Nonetheless, there was always something that you never managed to get exactly right.

You moved your gaze from the page, studying closely his eyes and the ever-changing glint behind them as you tried to recreate it with charcoal and parchment. An impossible task that made you sigh more loudly than you expected.

“I can almost smell your brain fuming, darling.”

You put down the pencil, straightening your spine and stretching your sore neck. You scrunched your eyes, exhausted of drawing in the dim and shifting light of the flames.

“Is it done?”

When you opened your eyes, Astarion was subtly peering over the page, the smug grin on his face unable to hide his nervous anticipation.

“I think so,” you mumbled, shading one last detail before staring critically at your creation. As you looked at it, you noticed so many details out of place: a line too straight, a curl too twirly, a shadow too dark…

“It could be better,” you said apologetically as you handed the sketchbook to your model, “but I hope you like it.”

Hesitantly, almost as if the book was made of fire, Astarion took it.

He stared at your drawing for a long time, his fingers following the charcoal lines and then looking for those same shapes on his face. A small shaky breath left his lips as his fingertips moved on his neck, brushing the scars of the bite.

“I had never seen them on me before,” he whispered, scoffing slightly as his hand fell back on the drawing.

“I actually drew them a bit too high,” you explained, pointing at the sketch with your smudged fingertips. “And the nose is too straight, and it’s all a bit of a mess-”

Your voice was cut off when Astarion took your hand in his. Before you could utter another syllable, he brought it to his lips, leaving a lingering kiss on your knuckles.

“Nonsense, darling. You’ve given me a mirror in which I will always be able to see myself.”

He kissed the inner part of your wrist, his eyes locked in yours as his teeth grazed your veins. “How will I ever be able to repay you for this?”

“You don’t have to.” Ignoring your burning skin, you squeezed gently Astarion’s hand in yours as his eyebrows shot up. “I did this for you and you only. I’m not expecting anything in return.”

Astarion still looked at you with a puzzled expression while you took your sketchbook out of his grip, took the short dagger hidden in your boot and carefully cut the page with his portrait out of it.

“This is yours,” you said handing him the rough sheet of parchment, “and it should’ve never been taken from you in the first place.”

As if he was handling the smallest and frailest animal, Astarion accepted the page in his hand, his wide eyes still marveling at the way your lines came together to recreate him.

“I…”

For once, words failed him.

He looked up from the sketch and a million emotions crossed his face. Confusion and relief. Sadness and recognition. Fear and joy. And that softness, that overwhelming look empty of all the sharp edges that defined him every other moment.

“Thank you,” he whispered, placing a shaky hand on your cheek. “I won’t forget it.”

That touch was alien to you.

It wasn’t the kind of touch that you had learned to expect from Astarion. It wasn’t sexual or teasing, anticipating a pleasure that he seemed always so eager to satisfy. It was gentle, hinting at an intimacy you had never dared to entertain, not even when you were falling asleep in your tent and your neck was still sore where his teeth had dug their way into your flesh.

His thumb moved slowly, hesitantly on your skin. You were both entering uncharted territories and you could do nothing more than being careful. Nonetheless, you couldn’t help but lean into his touch as you always did, kissing softly his palm to let him know that you wanted it.

That you craved this intimacy, no matter how long you both needed to get there.

Some voices reached your ears —drunken and loud singing— and before you could make out who they belonged to, Astarion had already moved away, leaving your cheek to the cold touch of the night.

He quickly folded the drawing and put it away, giving you one last small smile before a smug grin bloomed on his face and removed every other emotion. He stood up and headed towards Gale and Wyll, the swaying owners of those voices that had just entered the camp.

As the crowd was becoming a little too much for your liking, you headed into your tent, falling with a sigh on your pillow. You could still hear the other three outside, but your mind was wandering far away, relishing in the memories of that night as you slowly fell asleep.

[dragonitepaw]

They’re PROPOSING 🫶✨🦇🕊

This will never be more than a sketch hence why im posting it now 😅 but I hope it can be enjoyed regardless … and hopefully the text is readable 🤭

Ive had mega brainrot for them recently and a little sappy proposal idea popped into my head (I’m the queen of nothing bad ever happens AUs i crave fluffy cute content sm) so i had to sketch it out 🫶

[soft-mafia]

Can we have where the S/O was sketching Captain Buggy in secret, because she has a thing for him and she didn't want him and the crew to know about it. Until she lost it until the crew took a glimpse while laughing; they figured that she had a crush on the captain. She hid in the Crow's Nest in shame until Buggy finds her, after hearing what she's been doing in secret

Crush [Buggy x Reader]

warning: fem reader, nude drawing descriptions

a/n: this is such a cute idea😭😭 also this is me coded bc I low key draw Buggy half naked sometimes

part 2

Y/n was sitting in one of the crow’s nests on the Big Top, hunched over her sketchbook, scribbling out another fantasy she had of Buggy.

Yeah, it was weird drawing her own captain half naked with a visible happy trail but— was she hurting anybody? No, of course not, besides nobody had to see these drawings except her. Y/n was beginning to get a little flustered sketching out the muscles, defining them.

She had a little smile on her face, but it was all interrupted by Buggy calling everybody down to the deck. Y/n left her sketchbook up there without thinking and quickly climbed down.

A while later after they had to make a pit stop somewhere to stock up on food, Y/n was carrying crates of meat when she heard some other crew mates snickering and giggling. She wondered what the hell was so funny, so she glanced over— but then a look of horror washed over her face.

“What a pervert!!” One of the men said, flipping through the pages, “Do you think she joined the crew just to get a piece of Captain Buggy?” Another man laughed. “Awww she has a little crush on him.” Another one said before they all burst into laughter.

Oh my god?! Is that my sketch book?! She nearly dropped the crate, so she quickly set it down and ran back onto the ship, panicking and feeling humiliated. Oh god.. this was awful, what if they show the captain?! He’s gonna kick me out of the crew!! This is so embarrassing I’m gonna throw myself off the ship, I can’t do this!!

Y/n hid in the crows nest, curled up in a ball, crying into her knees from embarrassment.

“Hey Captain!! Take a look at this!!”

Buggy’s attention was directed over to the group of men with Y/n’s sketch book, “Huh? What is it?” Buggy grunted and snatched it out of the man’s hands. His eyes went wide and nearly popped out of his skull when he saw the sketches.

Why was he such a hunk?! Damn he wish he looked like this, is this how people saw him? If it was then this was an absolute win. “WHO DID THIS?!” Buggy shouted, “WHO’S SICK JOKE WAS THIS?!” There were so many pages!! Who even had time to do all of this?!

“That girl, Y/n. I think she has a little crush on you, captain.” One of the pirates jokingly cooed, which made Buggy’s face go even redder.

Y/n could hear Buggy screaming from where she was, it made her curl up and want to die even more, “Ugghh!! Why did I have to leave that fucking book up here?!” She cried to herself. “Y/N!!! WHAT IS THIS?!” Buggy said once he got back onto the ship. Y/n sniffled, peeking over the side of the crow’s nest as she looked down at Buggy, “I’m sorry captain! I-I didn’t mean to..” oh god how could this situation get any worse.

“DIDN’T MEAN TO?!” Buggy took another look at the drawings. Damn he was hot, “WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘DIDN’T MEAN TO’?!”

Y/n hid in the crow’s nest again, crying harder. He was going to kick her off the crew.. she knew it.

Upon her cries, Buggy sighed and decided to climb up to where she was. “Cmon-.. don’t- don’t cry.” He kneeled down and gently patted her head, he looked back at the sketchbook, still amazed with how handsome he was.. “These are really good..!” He flipped to another page which was just him.. completely naked, his eyes went wide again. That fucking penis was bigger than his, why was it was so vascular!! He cleared his throat and closed the book, handing it back to Y/n, “You really captured my likeness.” He giggled, his cheeks redder than a tomato, “Maybe you can.. draw me.. maybe a bit more buffer, taller? Just a suggestion..” he coughed again.

Y/n took her book back and sniffled, “Y-You’re not gonna kick me off the crew? You’re not mad?” She couldn’t even look up at him.

“What? Why would I do that? It’s kind of a stupid reason to kick someone off..” Buggy laughed and sat beside of her, “Of course I’m not mad. But.. am I really that hot?” He chuckled softly, making Y/n even more flustered. “Maybe I can model for you sometime eh?” He joked, but then kind of regretted it.. no way did he look as hunky as those drawings.

Y/n hid her face into her sketch book, “This is so embarrassing..” she whined, “They’re never gonna let me live this down.” She could still hear the sounds of those crew mates laughing.. it made her internally recoil.

“Yeah.. not a chance.” Buggy laughed, then patted her back, “But hey, if you ever want the real thing, you can come to me whenever you want.” He grinned, winking at her.

Her face went red again and she hid it further into her book.

[all-about-kyu]

𝕽𝖊𝖉 𝕮𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘 𝕭𝖊𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝕻𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘 (𝖒𝖞 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖆𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖘)

Summary: Being in a polyamorous relationship can take a toll on a person; Jongho just happened to be the one to uncork the bottle. Pairing: Seonghwa x San x fem!reader x Yeosang x Jongho Tropes: hybrid au, poly au, established relationship au Genre: fluff, angst, suggestive Rating: PG 13 Warnings: language, anxiety, stress, mentions of unhealthy self-care habits, reader described as smaller than all members and has blue eyes (bunny quality), minor injury, mentions of sex, kissing Word Count: 6,164 Note: your favorite Thunder is back! <3 thank you to @mejuii and @downtoamagicalland for beta reading as always <3

Listen to: Put It Straight by (G)-Idle ♡ As I Am (feat. Khalid) by Justin Bieber ♡ I GUESS I’M IN LOVE by Clinton Kane

Series Masterlist

You’ve been holed up in your workspace almost all day. You have been for a few days now. The only times you ever emerge are to shower and get some form of nourishment in your body. The influx of orders you had for your shop came out of nowhere, and you’re struggling to keep up with what needs to be done. All three of your boyfriends are worried about you, to say the least. San hasn’t been around much due to a merger he’s been working on, and Yeosang has been running around like a chicken with his head cut off, trying to get everything arranged for a new project that could make or break a lot of things for him. Seonghwa has been around, though. Just yesterday, he decided to stay home from the shop and sketch while you worked on crafting a rather detailed necklace. 

You’re so lost in what you’re creating that you hardly register the knock on your door. So when it pops open, you drop your half-done chain making the individual links scatter across the desk. Despite the urge to break down right then and there, you take a deep breath and recollect yourself. When you look up, you’re met with a very concerned-looking purple dragon.

“Treasure, you’ve been in here all day… have you eaten anything?” San asks with a worried tone.

“I’m fine.” You give him a tight-lipped smile, “I need to finish this bracelet by tomorrow and get it shipped out.”

San steps closer and squats down beside you. Even with him squatting, he’s barely below your eye level. It only serves to remind you how much smaller you are than them. Your silver-eyed boyfriend reaches to take your hands in his. At first, he doesn’t think anything of the tension rings along your fingers. He knows it helps you from cramping up too quickly. Then he takes in the small pinches and cuts on your fingertips and palms.

“Treasure, you should take a break. I’m worried about you. We all are.” He tries to reason with you.

“I’ll come to eat after this project is done, promise.” You offer, taking your hand to run over some of his scales along his cheekbone.

“You better have eaten a well-balanced meal and drank at least three glasses of water by the time I get back from my meeting,” He bluntly reminds you.

“I’ll do my best to do that.” You chuckle while playfully saluting him.

He stands back up to his full height, “I love you, and I hate to see you so overworked.” He sighs, placing a kiss against the base of one of your bunny ears.

“I love you too. I promise I’ll leave this room at some point.”

Some point becomes hours later when Seonghwa forces you out of the room even though the bracelet is still incomplete. San walks back in the door, Yeosang beside him, as you’re nibbling on a veggie wrap. Seonghwa is sitting beside you eating as well to make you feel less alone in your activity. San has a small bit of smoke curling out of his lip that he tries to stop you from seeing. It doesn’t work, though. Yeosang whispers something that seems to soothe the purple dragon before they both walk over to you. 

“How’s your project coming?” Yeosang asks innocently.

“Still not done….” You sigh, bunny ears falling back against your hair, “It was supposed to be done today so I could ship it out tomorrow….”

“And it’s okay that you didn’t finish it today.” Seonghwa offers, “You own your own business, and sometimes you need to know your limits on what can be done.”

“But-”

“No buts,” San adds, “you did what you could today. That’s all that matters.”

You nod silently and take another small bite out of your wrap before placing it down on the plate again. When you get stressed like this, you hardly want to eat anything. You know it’s an unhealthy habit, but it’s just how you function. Despite your quiet state, your three boyfriends seem to easily flow through conversation. Some sort of ugly jealousy curls through your stomach. The way they seem to fit together easily without any seams makes you feel almost out of place in a way. You’re not willing to address that with your current state of mind, though.

“Hops,” Yeosang calls quietly; you look up at him, “You didn’t hear me, did you?” He chuckles sweetly, “Who do you want to crash with tonight?”

You nibble at your lower lip, “I think I’ll stay in my nest tonight.”

“Do you want one or more of us to–” You cut Seonghwa off before he can finish his question.

“No!” You blurt out, “I want to sketch out some more projects, and I’d hate to keep you up.”

“You know that won’t bother us, treasure.” San reminds you, “I’d much rather you get some good rest than workshop more projects.”

“I’ll be fine, San, I promise.” You stand up abruptly, ignoring the (barely) half-eaten wrap. “Good night boys. Love you!”

You bolt to the room your nest and work area are in. The moment you firmly shut the door, you sit down at your desk and hunch over the same bracelet you’ve been working on all day.

Even after slaving over projects for the next two days, it feels like you’ve made no progress. You’re pacing back and forth in your studio and nest space, hoping that inspiration strikes you to at least finish one project. A soft knock sounds on your door again. This time Yeosang is the one who pops his head through the doorway. You’re worrying on the edge of your ear and continue pacing even though you feel your boyfriend’s worried eyes on you. 

“Hops,” His low voice sounds through the space, “Sannie and Hwa already headed out for the day. They thought you were still sleeping when they were leaving.” He explains.

“I’ve been up for a while.” You respond flatly, “I need to get this shit done.”

Yeosang is slightly taken aback. You’ve never been one to curse. So to hear you say such a word was not what he was expecting to come from your mouth. He steps closer and grabs you gently to stop you from pacing anymore. You look up at him and see the worry swirling in his green eyes. He pulls you into a hug. You’ve come to learn that he’s not very physically affectionate outside your heat. So the fact that he has you wrapped in a hug, your face buried in his chest, means a lot. His minty scent invades your senses, giving you a momentary feeling of peace. That lingering panic and fear creeps back into you when he pulls away.

“Take a break from your projects, Hops.” He reminds you, “Stepping away from a project can do wonders sometimes.”

You nod, “I will.”

It may be a half-truth, but you don’t want to worry him if you don’t need to. He places a soft kiss against the top of your head and takes another step back.

“I have to go meet a client. Unfortunately, all three of us are out of the house for the rest of the day.” He sighs, “I should be back around dinner time. San said he has a business dinner tonight, and Seonghwa is closing the shop today since Yun is off.”

“I’m a big bunny,” You try to joke, “I can take care of myself.”

“I know, little one,” He smiles softly, “Just giving you the rundown for the day. I’ll see you at dinner, okay?”

“Okay.” You nod, your snow-white ears twitching slightly when he gently scratches the base of them.

Yeosang is out the door, and a few moments later, you hear the front door of the penthouse close too. You debate your options for a few moments before deciding to get a drink before returning to work. You aren’t fully sure who’s home right now. At least you know Yunho is home. You’re about ninety percent sure Mingi is at his university lecturing right now. It’s likely that Wooyoung is at his dance studio, and you haven’t seen Hongjoong in about three days. When you get to the kitchen, you find that Jongho is home too. He’s sitting at the small breakfast bar sipping on a mug of tea. You shuffle behind him, being sure not to knock into his deep blue tail. You reach up into the cabinet to get a glass when you feel a hand on your shoulder. You nearly jump out of your skin and end up dropping the glass, causing it to shatter on the counter. Immediately, Yunho moves to make sure you’re okay and explains he wasn’t trying to scare you. Your fight-or-flight instincts kick in, and you’re already down the hall and back in your nest. The first thing you can think to do is grab the duffle bag and start stuffing clothing into it. Tears are threatening to fall from your eyes, but you hold them back for now. You can smell the two men that are home. They’re still down the hallway. However, your senses are out of sorts due to your panicked state. 

Again, a knocking sounds on the door frame. You whip your head around, and your ears twitch around, trying to find one sound to focus on. Your nose twitches even more as you take in the dark blue dragon standing in the doorway. Jongho steps into the space when you don’t speak, knowing you need someone to calm you down. He would have never breached your space without your permission had you been more stable mentally. 

“Where are you off to?” He asks gently.

That’s when your tears burst through fully. You start sobbing and find yourself face-first in Jongho’s sweater before you can stop yourself. He awkwardly wraps his arms around you and tries to soothe you. The room is only filled with sniffles and loud sobs as you stand there in the golden-eyed dragon’s arms. You’re completely unaware of how long you cry in his arms, but when you finally slow to a sniffle, you pull your face away from his sweater. There’s a large wet spot from the amount of crying you just did. There’s a bit of snot, too, which you cringe at and immediately try to wipe off with your own sweater. You can feel his strong chest beneath the fluffy material, but your mental state is hardly focused on the dragon’s physique. Your head is pounding from crying, which doesn’t help the situation at all. Jongho still has his arms wrapped around you, securing you in your spot.

“You need to talk about anything?” He offers quietly.

“Are you sure you want to hear all of that?” You chuckle, trying to downplay your emotions.

“You need it. We both know that.” He sighs, not letting you divert anything.

Suddenly you’re very aware of his arms wrapped around you and how comforting it feels. You find yourself nodding at him.

“Do you want to go to a neutral space, or are you comfortable right here?” He searches your pale blue eyes for any discomfort as he asks.

You appreciate how respectful of your boundaries he’s being. You know you need this, and he does too. Damn him and his phenomenal therapist skills. 

“We can stay here…” You bite your lip, debating whether or not you want to ask him a specific question or not. You decide to throw caution to the wind and ask. “Do- do you um… could we-”

“What’s up Hops?”

“Well… I’m kind of all over the place, and… do you care if we cuddle while I vent?”

“Would that make you feel more comfortable?” he asked again.

You nod, “It would…”

“In your nest?”

“Yeah… if that’s okay.”

“Lead the way.”

Jongho releases you from his hold and allows you to get comfortable in bed where your nest is before he approaches it. You shift a little bit allowing Jongho to climb in beside you. The dragon is slightly stiff as he gets semi-comfortable. You snuggle close to him, which makes him melt beneath you. He wraps an arm around you and sighs with a small smile on his face.

“What’s on that mind of yours, Hops?” He asks once you’re both comfortable. 

“A lot of things… where should I start?”

“Wherever you want to.” He offers, small vines wrapping around his fingers as you get more comfortable.

“I feel like an outsider.” You admit, “And like a failure…”

“What makes you say that? You have your fluffle, and you’re part of the Thunder now. You have a successful business making jewelry.”

“I haven’t been able to finish a single project for days now, and I feel horrible. These people are waiting for me to finish these pieces for them and-” You start crying again. 

“Take your time.” He reminds you, “Do you wanna hear my two cents on this, or do you want to continue what you were saying.”

“You can talk.” You sniffle, burying your face against his sweater.

He wraps his arm around you tighter. The small vines tickle against your jaw lightly as his fingers hold your shoulder. You find yourself sinking further into his touch subconsciously.

“Here’s what I think.” He starts, “Everyone has their own threshold. When you reach that threshold, you can’t do it anymore. You need a break. Your limit is different from mine and different from the others in the Thunder. You need to give yourself breaks, Hops.”

“I know, but-”

“No buts, bunny.”

“But, Jongho…” You pout, “You’re super successful in your career, San owns a whole monopoly, Seonghwa and Yunho own a tattoo shop-”

“And you have a very successful jewelry business.” He stops you mid-sentence, “Just cause we have more income doesn’t mean that you’re unsuccessful.”

You nod and nibble at your lip. You feel a thumb against your lip, gently pulling it from between your teeth. When you look up at Jongho, you see him giving you a gentle, borderline endearing look. It steals your breath away for a moment. Your ears go lax as you maintain eye contact with the navy dragon. You take note of how his navy scales frame his face perfectly and how they contrast against his bright red hair. Suddenly, you snap back to reality and shake your head slightly to ground yourself.

“I know that but still…”

“Still what?” He prods lightly.

“You guys seem actually to get work done, and I’m still fighting with this same necklace that I’ve been working on all week. I have a damn sketch of the thing, and I can’t even do it.” You groan.

“What’s on paper doesn’t always convey in practice. Have you tried looking at it or approaching it a new way?” He asks, his thumb gently caressing your arm as he speaks.

“... No…” You admit, gaze dropping down to your fingers,  “I’ve been very set on the style, and my customer really likes the design I sketched…”

“And it’s your business.” He reminds you, “If you need to rework things because it’s impossible to do in practice, they need to understand that or lose their deposit on the art.”

You nod silently. Jongho notices you remain quiet after providing his two cents on your situation. There’s far more to your issue, and he knows it. He moves his navy blue tail to be draped over his thigh and, by proxy, wrap around yours. The tip of it rests against your lower back. And while you’re used to dragon tails resting against you, Jongho’s tail feels almost foreign to you but absolutely not unwelcomed. 

“I know that’s not all, bun.” He sighs, letting the arm wrapped around you hold you just a bit tighter, “What else is going through that mind of yours?”

You look up at him and see his golden eyes fixated on you, “I don’t think you want to hear about my relationship right now.”

“I want you to feel better.” He assures, “Tell me what’s going on.”

You find yourself curling closer to the dragon and tucking your head just below his chin. You feel a few scales along his jaw, but it’s nothing that bothers you. After all, you live here with them almost all the time now; you’re no stranger to scales touching you. Your ears are pushed back and lying flat against your hair overtop Jongho’s arm. You feel him relax further after his initial tensing. 

“Well… about a week ago, we were, um…” You didn’t know how to phrase it to him.

“You were having sex, okay. What went wrong to make you feel so uncomfortable and try to run away today?”

“How did you know I was gonna say that?” You try to deflect.

Jongho chuckles airily, “You're going to tell me I’m wrong?” You don’t answer, “So, what happened that got you to this point.”

You sigh and debate whether you want to let it all out or tell him just to forget about it. It wasn’t that big a deal, right? Jealously happens in relationships. Jealousy looks different in yours because instead of two people, there are five. 

“Smells like burnt cookies.” Jongho points out, “Just say it before you end up smelling like a burnt kitchen rather than overbaked cookies.” He teases lightly.

“I feel like an outsider in my own relationship.”

“Okay, why do you feel like that? You know San, Seonghwa, and Yeosang would burn the world to the ground if you asked them.”

You feel the tears well up in your eyes again. One escapes and lands on Jongho’s barely damp sweater. Though you know, Jongho can’t see your eyes with your face tucked under his chin. He does seem to know you’re having an emotional hurricane internally. You feel his tail press a bit harder against your body as if to mock some weighted blanket to help you relax.

“They just seem so happy together. I felt like after that very awkward sex that I was just a hookup again.”

“That bad?” He sighs, “I know you know how the Thunder functioned before San and Seonghwa brought you home. Hell, Yunho, and Mingi are worse than you’re polycule sometimes.” He lightens the air, “Remember, you’re the glue that holds those boys together. Yes, they would casually hook up with each other before you were introduced to us, but the dates, talking about how they feel, regulating their schedules… Hops, that’s all thanks to your influence on this Thunder. It feels like I’ve tried to have interventions more often with them than with my clients. Something about you made it click, though.”

“Jongho?”

“Yeah?”

You don’t know what overtakes you, but you untuck your face from his chest and kiss his cheek. You realize what you’ve done after you see Jongho’s slightly shocked expression. Your nose starts to twitch as panic rises in your throat again. Jongho’s strong hold keeps you in your place, along with his tail still lying across your legs and along your back. 

“It’s okay, bun.” He assures, “You just surprised me. If you want to ask something when you’re in the right headspace, you can do so. You’re not in a completely clear or stable mental place right now, though.”

You nod, “Sorry,”

“Nothing to apologize for. Come back here and get comfy again.” He offers, “You rant, and I’ll listen.”

You tuck yourself back against the dark blue dragon and almost feel like you’re at home in his arms. A tug in your heart makes itself known. Of course, it would now, when you’re in the midst of emotional and relational turmoil. Jongho smooths a hand over your hair and ears as you start rambling about everything that’s been bothering you. From missing your fluffle to work to your boyfriends’ dynamic. You feel small amounts of weight press against your hair.

“What’s in my hair?” You ask, “I feel something.”

“I’m weaving flowers in.” He says casually, “Do you want me to take them out?” 

“N-no,” You feel the heat of a blush rush to your face, “Tell me about the flowers.”

“There’s a few red carnations, that’s all. Some are full blooms, others are half-blooms. They look nice against your hair. I like the contrast from how pure white your ears are too.”

You pull your body to be sitting up. Jongho is still lying down, and his eyebrows scrunch together in confusion.

“You can put them and more flowers in my hair all you want. I’m giving you more space to work with while I talk.” You explain, “I like that you’re playing with my hair.”

A smile graces his lips, and you barely see his fangs peek out. He conjures a small bouquet of little dainty pink and white flowers. One moment there was nothing there, and the next, the flowers were in his hand.

“So, as I was saying, I love my boyfriends, but it’s hard not to feel excluded when they know each other like their favorite things in the world. It really hurt me when I saw San and Yeosang cuddling while Seonghwa tossed the wet wipes at me. I know I’m newest to whatever dynamics were happening here before, but…” You interrupt yourself with a sigh, “I’m still their girlfriend, and it doesn’t feel like it sometimes.”

Jongho accidentally tugs at your hair while braiding a flower into it, making you yelp slightly.

“Sorry,” He quickly apologizes, “I know it hurts to just feel like a side piece in your relationship. You also need to communicate how you’re feeling, though. I know, ironic when you have three emotionally constipated dragon boyfriends, but it’s true.”

“I just don’t want to make them mad at me…”

“If they get mad at you for having normal emotions, then I’ll personally make them each a batch of poison ivy tea when I refill the tea satchels.”

You giggle lightly and feel Jongho move your hair over your shoulder, signifying that he’s done meticulously intertwining each flower with your hair. You turn around and face him. He’s sitting criss-cross in your nest still. His golden eyes practically melt you as he gives you an affectionate look. Those tugs at your heart return, this time accompanied by a tornado of butterflies in your stomach.

“You feel better now?” He asks softly.

You nod, “I needed that a lot more than I realized.”

He opens his arms, “You still look like you need some comforting before you talk to your boys.”

You climb into his lap, slotting your legs around his hips, and feel his strong arms wrap around your waist in a tight hug. You bury your face in the crook of his neck. Your nose fills with his book scent, and it instantly relaxes you. You don’t break away even when you hear the penthouse door open and click shut again. You’re so engulfed in his scent you don’t even know who’s returning to the lair. Jongho’s arms tighten around you even more. Then, you process the sniffles you’re letting out. You’re not even sure if you’re feeling the emotional aftermath of the day or if you’re nervous about the confrontation later, but you’re sniffling back tears again. Your tears slide down Jongho’s neck and along the snake tattoo that looks as if it’s curling around his collarbone. He doesn’t say anything about it. He doesn’t question why you’re crying or make any comment to stop you from feeling what you do. He lets you feel. It’s just what you need right now. 

“What’s this?” You hear San snarl.

You tense in Jongho’s hold. Fight or flight instincts beg you to bolt for the door, even if San grabs you in the process. The only thing stopping you is Jongho’s arms holding you in place. Suddenly, Jongho rips a flower out of your hair. You yelp at the sudden movement and then see the navy dragon shaking out a singed red carnation. You know San didn’t mean any harm to you. When he was pissed, he tended to lose complete control of what he did with his magic.

“Hops.” He snarls, “I need to talk to you. Alone. Now.”

He hasn’t called you that since you officially started dating him. Hearing the neutral nickname sounds foreign to your ears in the worst way possible. You’ve never seen him direct his anger at you, either. Your heart rate spikes again, and your nose twitches at the speed of light. Subconsciously you grip onto Jongho, maybe to try to soothe yourself. You don’t want to think too hard about why it was comforting to you.

“Talk to him. It’ll be okay. If not, remember what I told you.” He ends his sentence with a slight chuckle.

You nod and climb out of Jongho’s lap. Your eyes linger on his golden eyes, noticing how his pupils dilate as he looks back at you. While you’d love to think it’s out of affection toward you, you decide to believe it’s simply to help calm you further. Jongho gets out of your nest and dismisses himself from the space. You watch as a vine curls around the door nob and pulls the white wood door shut. The tension is tangible enough as it is, but when the therapist dragon leaves, it becomes almost suffocating. San’s silver eyes are slit so thinly you can hardly see his pupils at all. It’s as if they don’t exist at all. 

“I-it wasn’t what it looked like…” You say, trying to ease a bit of the tension.

“Are you sure, Hops?” He practically growls, “It sure looked like you were getting too cozy with someone who isn’t one of your boyfriends. We said you could cuddle with the others if you needed it. That was crossing a line, though.”

Normally seeing your deep purple scaled boyfriend dressed for the office sends you into a mood that you would put in a similar category to your heat. Now, though, it only strikes fear in you. You so desperately wish to crumble under his stare and submit to your prey tendencies. You swallow that urge and hold your head high, remembering Jongho’s words. 

I know it hurts to just feel like a side piece in your relationship. You also need to communicate how you’re feeling, though.

“Would you have rather me run away back to my fluffle without a word to any of you?” You bite back, throwing your arm in the direction of your half-packed duffle bag, “You, Seonghwa, and Yeosang have been making me feel like I’m not even part of our relationship anymore. Had Jongho not stopped me, I would’ve been gone for hours by now. Yes, the cuddling could be seen as crossing a line, but he’s the reason I didn’t go running out mere moments after Yeosang left.”

“Treasure…” San starts, trying to step closer to you.

You put your hand up, and it’s as if you put up an invisible block in front of him.

“Let me speak.” You sigh, “You three communicate without words. You’ve been involved with each other in many different ways long before I was brought to the Thunder. After last week’s events… seeing how easily you knew how to take care of Yeosang while you three practically ignored me and let me handle myself hurt. I’m your girlfriend, but the longer I’m here, the more I feel like just a hookup you brought in with your two boyfriends for some extra fun.”

You let out a shaky breath. You don’t want to cry telling him all of that, but you feel your eyes fill with tears. There’s no way you’ll be able to stop them from falling. You sniffle and let your gaze fall down to your feet rather than looking at your boyfriend. He doesn’t move. That invisible block is still fixated in front of him.

As if the timing couldn’t be worse, you smell Seonghwa’s sweet strawberry jam scent enter the home accompanied by Yeosang’s peppermint tea. It’s as if he knows there’s tension, too. You know your scent is burnt, and San’s is far stormier than his typical calm sea breeze scent. Your eldest boyfriend doesn’t even knock. He invites himself and Yeosang into your bedroom and is greeted by your crying figure and San a few steps away with tendrils of smoke escaping the corners of his lips. Yeosang is the first to step closer, placing a kiss on San’s cheek, only solidifying your emotions. Comforting San before stepping closer to you.

“Tell me what’s going on.” Yeosang asks quietly, wrapping his arms around your frame.

You try to break out of his hold, but you’re no match for his strength. Angry tears keep rolling down your cheeks as you stay trapped in his hold.

“Look at me.” Authority rings in his tone. 

This time, you look at him.

“Am I that unloveable?” You snap.

“Treasure, please.” San says weakly. 

“Yeosang.” You say flatly, “Let me go.”

Your bronze boyfriend backs off. All three of them are clearly concerned about you and trying to figure out why you just asked the question you did. Your nose is still twitching, and tears are still staining your cheeks.

“We need to have a long talk. All four of us.” You huff.

You settle in your nest, wrapping yourself in a throw blanket that smells much more like Jongho than any of your boyfriends. You see the jealousy in San’s eyes as you do so. Yeosang is on your work stool, Seonghwa is sitting in your reading chair, and San is still brooding, leaning against your closed bedroom door. You can’t escape. It’s probably for the best; you need to say this.

“I kinda yelled this at San already, but… you three have been neglecting me.”

You watch as the confusion etches in Seonghwa’s face. He had been spending the most time with you compared to your other two boyfriends. Yeosang’s reaction isn’t as visible, but you know he’s just as confused. San knows, though. He hates that you’re saying it again. 

“I feel like a hookup again. You three are so seamless with each other and don’t seem to give me any care. Last week, Seonghwa… you just threw the wet wipes at me while San took care of Yeosang with so much care… that fucking hurt. I almost ran away today. Jongho stopped me.”

“Treasure… we love you so much. I’m sorry I did that. I wasn’t even thinking about it-” Seonghwa tries to explain.

“I know… it doesn’t change that it hurt… still hurts worse than hell. San came home and found me cuddling with Jongho in a way that was a bit compromising. There was nothing inappropriate happening. I promise. And–” You stop yourself.

“What is it, Hops?” Yeosang asks quietly, “We need to know everything.”

“I kissed him.” You admit, “I was on such an emotional rollercoaster, and he made me feel safe and loved… I didn’t think about what I did until after it happened.”

None of them speak. It scares the hell out of you. Your pale blue eyes flit between all three of them. Their expressions are unreadable. Well, San’s isn’t. A fresh curl of smoke escapes his nose as he wills his flames back down his throat.

“Did you like it?” Yeosang asks again.

You hadn’t thought about that. Did you? It was so spur of the moment you didn’t actually think about how it made you feel. Your heart feels like it’s on fire. It aches. 

“I did.” You admit.

“What do you want that to mean for us?” Seonghwa adds.

“I know we’re on delicate grounds right now…” You sigh, wrapping the blanket tighter around yourself, “I feel the same pull toward him that I do towards you three.”

“Transparency, right?” San finally speaks, “I’m so fucking jealous, but you’re right… we haven’t been caring for you the way we’ve been caring for each other. We should all make an effort to meet each other where we are. All four of us. And–” he stops himself, “If you want Jongho, we can invite him.”

“Seonghwa? Yeosang?” You ask, ears shifting towards them.

“Honestly…” Yeosang sighs, “I miss being with Jongho. We also knew in this Thunder we have a tendency to share, even with San’s jealous streak.” He pokes fun at his purple boyfriend.

“I’m always happy to do anything that helps our relationship and ultimately you, Treasure. I love all my Thunder, and I love you.”

A smile breaks out on your lips, and tears start streaming again. San is the first to approach you. He wraps his arms around you, tail curling protectively around your waist. You feel both of your other boyfriends join moments later.

“I love you, Treasure.” San whispers against your bunny ear.

“I love you.” You sniffle back.

“We all love you.” Yeosang kisses your other ear.

After a long discussion about what each of you needed from each other, you begin discussing who should approach Jongho about joining. It’s out of the question for San to do so. The last time San and Jongho interacted was when he walked in on you, cuddling with the dark blue dragon. Ultimately, Yeosang is chosen. He’s the closest to him, and they think the same way. Their history together before Yeosang started dating you just adds to why he should be the one to ask. Yeosang is also the newest boyfriend. Having Seonghwa go to the youngest dragon could end badly, given that Seonghwa has been dating you longer than Yeosang has.

You go with Yeosang down the hall toward Jongho’s bedroom. You stay outside the door as Yeosang gets permission to enter the space. Instantly, you hear laughter and feel how light the atmosphere is in the room. You see a few hanging plants through the small crack in the door. You haven’t seen many of their bedrooms in great detail, but seeing greenery in Jongho’s room makes warmth spread in your chest.

“Treasure,”

You’re taken aback when you hear the pet name. It’s not Yeosang’s voice. It’s Jongho’s. You step closer to the door. Popping your head through the door, white ears tall on your head, you see Jongho’s golden eyes giving you that same adoring look he had earlier. Yeosang has a soft, comfortable smile on his lips. His hand is outstretched, and you find yourself curling into his side.

Jongho’s room is exactly how you expected it to be. Plants are everywhere, not so much that it’s crowded, but it adds a comforting and homey touch to the space. He has a desk against the far wall, framed by bookshelves. His bed has a wall of vines behind it with purple flowers randomly throughout them. There’s something about the space that is so shamelessly Jongho.

“Is there something you wanted to ask me, Treasure?” Jongho asks with a soft smirk on his lips.

You nod, and your eyes shift up to your green-eyed boyfriend. He just nods slightly at you and gives you a comforting smile.

“Jongho… would you like to be my boyfriend?” You ask.

Yeosang removes his arm from around you as Jongho steps closer to you. The gold-eyed dragon hybrid takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, making you look up at him. You want so desperately to melt at the touch but you hold your ground somehow. Your ears instantly fall back against your head as your chin tilts up. The flowers are still woven into your hair and tickle against your ears, making them twitch slightly. Jongho takes his other hand to pluck some flowers from your hair.

“Red carnations: admiration, devotion,” he states, twirling it in between his fingers. He shifts his hold on the flowers to show the small white and pink flowers. “Aster: faith, love. Does that answer your question, Treasure?”

“Jongho?” You ask, dazed by his words.

“Yes, Treasure. I’d love to date you.” He smiles a bright, gummy smile, “May I kiss you?”

“Yes.” You practically breathe out.

His lips are on yours a moment later, and you feel an explosion of emotion. The hand that was previously holding the flowers wraps around your waist and pulls you closer to his body. It’s almost as if you’re the only two in the world. When he pulls away, you see his heavily dilated gold eyes. Your hand reaches up to brush against a few scales by his hairline before carding into his hair behind his ear. Before you can get lost in the moment again, Yeosang swoops in and kisses your cheek before leaning over to Jongho and kissing his cheek as well. He wraps his arms around both of you. You turn your head to see your two other boyfriends in the doorway with sweet smiles on their faces. They come into the room and join the hug. Yeah, everything felt better now. They felt like home, and your heart aches out of pure love for your four boyfriends.

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