#BUT THANK YOU FOR YOUR MESSAGE I LOVE AND APPRECIATE YOU

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (44/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Let's get this party started!

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of previous smut), alcohol consumption, slight jealousy, a kiss

Word Count: 3.6k

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A/N: we love girls girls. happy Sunday to everyone! feedback is appreciated!

Your little heels click on the asphalt of the streets of Monaco as Kika and you walk towards the club, arms hooked and cheeks warm from the wine. Cold wind blows in your faces. 

“I was so happy when Charles invited us to come with you,” Kika smiles and lays her head on your shoulder, which is certainly quite uncomfortable due to your uneven pace. But she doesn't seem to care. 

You rest your cheek against her top of her head. "I didn't even know that you were coming tonight until a few hours ago," you say. 

“He apparently only messaged Pierre today and asked,” the Portuguese woman says, lifting her head from your shoulder. "Very spontaneous. But all the better that it worked.”

You smile at her. "That's true.”

Together you turn a corner and immediately the club on the other side of the street catches your eye. Neon signs, which somehow don't fit with the rest of the city's atmosphere, draw attention to the building and the closer you get, the louder the music seems to get, penetrating through the walls. A few people are standing in front of the double doors, guarded by security guards dressed in black, discussing admission. 

When you see the clipboards in the hands of the broad-built men, you stop abruptly, causing Kika to almost trip and bump into you. 

“Are you okay? What's wrong?” she asks, looking at you in confusion. 

Nervously, you nod in the direction of the club. ”They have clipboards.”

Kika looks at the bouncers and then back at you. “No shit, Sherlock. That's where the guest list is,” she replies and tries to pull you a little further. “Why are you stopping? Have you changed your mind? Don't you want to party?”

“Yes, I do,” you reply hesitantly. “But how do we get in there if they have a guest list?”

A grin spreads across Kika's beautiful face before she puts her arm around you and pushes you forward. “Do you really doubt that we'll get in?” she asks, and when she catches your nervous glance, she pulls you closer. “You were invited by a Formula 1 driver, querida. You're the last person who needs to worry.”

As you cross the street and stand behind the people who are still arguing with the bouncers, you realize how different your life seems to be now. 

Ten days ago, you were worried about how you would pay your rent if you didn't find a job – and now you're spending nights on yachts, your best friend is a model and you're partying with Formula 1 drivers in Monaco's most chic clubs. And you're even living with one of them.

And you love him too. 

The bouncers don't seem to be giving in, and the more unyielding they look, the more annoyed the men in their black suits appear. As people try to negotiate their entry and wave banknotes in their hands, the men look past them and nod to you. 

Without hesitation, Kika pulls you through the crowd and comes to a stop in front of the entrance doors. She is about to open her mouth when one of the bouncers takes a step to the side and smiles at you. “Good evening, ladies,” he says in a deep voice, holding the door open for you. “Mr. Norris is expecting you.”

“Thank you very much,” Kika replies with a broad smile, quickly pulling you along behind her so that you can only say a quiet ‘thank you’ to the two men before the club's double doors close behind you and you are enveloped in dim light, warm air and music that gets louder with every step you take. 

“See? That wasn't so hard,” your friend grins, and together you walk down a short hallway before entering a large room. To your left are a few seating areas on an ampore, some open and others roped off. To your right is a long bar stretching across the room, with lots of people already gathered around it. And right in front of you – there's the dance floor. 

At the back is the DJ booth, currently manned by a woman who seems to know exactly what the crowd wants to hear. With precision and skill, she flows from one song to the next without you really noticing, and the audience is eating out of her hands. 

“Hello, you two beauties,” someone suddenly says behind you, and when you turn around, you see Lando's face. He's wearing a white shirt, the top buttons casually undone so that part of his chest can be seen. With arms outstretched, he hugs Kika first before pulling you close and planting a kiss on your cheek. “How are you? How was Christmas?” he asks, taking each of your hands to pull you to the seating areas on the left. He briefly lets go of Kika's hand to untie one of the ribbons before letting you go ahead. 

“It was great,” Kika replies and takes off her long jacket before dropping onto one of the dark couches. She crosses her legs. "But I think our girl here had the most fun," she grins, raising her eyebrows. You give her a dirty look. 

Lando turns to you with raised eyebrows. ”Did you two fuck?”

“That's exactly what I asked!” Kika laughs and claps her hands joyfully. 

You feel the heat rising to your face, and it's not because you're still wearing your coat. Tensioned, you take it off and lay it over the back of the couch. “We didn't,” you answer curtly and roll your eyes. 

Kika and Lando exchange a meaningful look that you try to ignore. 

“Where are the boys, anyway?“ the Brit finally asks, rubbing his hands together as if he can't wait to see his friends again. 

“They dropped us off one street over so they could find a parking lot and so we wouldn't all be seen together,” Kika replies, reaching for the drinks menu on the small table in front of her. She begins to flip through it. 

“Very good.” Lando turns to you. "Today, only guests are invited who I and Martin know personally and trust so much that no one has to worry about any photos getting out," he smiles, putting his arm around your shoulders. 

You look up at him. ”Really?”

He nods. “So you don't need to worry. And neither does Charles.” He gently pulls you close before letting you go again. “So, girls. What can I get you to drink? Wine, cocktails, shots?”

“I'd like a strawberry margarita,” Kika replies, leaning back on the couch. 

“A piña colada, please.”

“All right. I'll be right back.“ Without turning back to you, he leaves and heads towards the bar, where he is immediately greeted and hugged by a few people, while you first make yourselves comfortable in your seating area. 

“Do you know this Martin guy?” you ask the Portuguese woman, who looks over at the crowd. 

She nods briefly. “Martin is really nice. And he's a good DJ,” she replies, and you notice how her gaze sticks to the female DJ. “He just doesn't look as good as she does.”

You can't suppress a grin. ”He doesn't have to look good as a DJ, does he? He just has to be good at what he does.”

“That's right,” Kika agrees with you before turning to face you. She points with her thumb over her shoulder and towards the DJ booth. ”But she's definitely hotter.”

Before you can say anything, Lando returns with a tray and sets it down in front of you. Your two cocktails and more glasses are on it, but there are also small shot glasses filled with red liquid. He hands you your drinks. 

“There we are,” Pierre greets all of you and briefly embraces Lando. Charles is standing behind him and smiles at you. 

“I'm glad you all made it,” the Brit smiles, giving the Monegasque a quick hug before everyone sits down. 

Charles takes a seat next to you, so close that he can press his leg against yours. “Hi,” he smiles gently. “Everything okay?” You return his smile and nod before taking a sip of your cocktail. His gaze flickers briefly from your eyes to your lips, which wrap around the straw. “Piña Colada?”

“Mh-hmm.” You hold the straw out to him and watch as he takes a sip. "Do you like it?”

“I do,’ he admits. ”But somehow I prefer the Nightmare Colada.”

Warmth rises to your cheeks at his words and the thought of the night when you got drunk on his boat. How you poured out your hearts. 

“To a great evening,” Lando raises his voice and hands everyone a shot glass. Carefully, each of you takes one, careful not to spill any of the red liquid. ”Cheers!”

The drinks that make their way to your table over the next two hours taste so fantastically good that Kika and you doubt that there is much alcohol in them. The cocktails taste fantastic and the music puts everyone in a good mood, so you leave your table and hit the dance floor. 

Your group dances to the beat that the DJ is playing like tipsy teenagers. Kika and you hold hands and dance together, causing the boys' eyes to almost pop out of their heads. The Portuguese woman presses her front against yours, her hands on your hips while yours are on her shoulders. And when she leans forward with pouting lips, you can't help but press a friendly kiss on her lips. You hear someone whistle – it's definitely Pierre – and when you both pull away from each other, you have to laugh. 

Kika puts her arm around your shoulders and the other around Charles. “I can't believe I kissed this beauty here before you did, Leclerc,” she grins. 

Charles looks at you with rosy cheeks, but his words are directed at Kika. “Is she a good kisser?”

“The best kisser I ever had,” the brunette replies with a grin before letting go of you and throwing her arms around her boyfriend. 

Charles and you look at each other uncertainly. 

Well, why haven't you kissed each other yet?

The thought is haunting your mind, but you can't answer the question. 

Doesn't Charles want to kiss you? You've definitely done things that are definitely not PG-rated. You can almost feel his spent between your thighs and his lips on your neck, the tip of his cock nudging against your clit and – 

Why haven't you kissed each other?

The Monegasque seems to notice your thoughts, but before he can say anything, Kika grabs your hand and pulls you towards the bar. You lean against the counter and wait for one of the bartenders to notice you when your friend takes your hand. 

“Is everything okay?” She asks, raising her eyebrows in concern. 

“Why do you ask?” you reply with a counter question. 

When a bartender reaches you, Kika orders your drinks. "I didn't want it to be weird between you and Charles. I'm sorry.”

You smile weakly at her and give her a quick hug. ’It's all right. We won't let this ruin our evening, okay?”

“You know you can always talk to me, right?” She asks, tilting her head. ‘You can call me day or night and I'll come to you. I promise.”

Your smile grows wider. "I'm already aware of that.”

“And I really love you, you know that?“ She puts her hands on your upper arms and hugs you tightly. Apparently, Kika gets emotional when she's drunk. 

“I love you too,” you return her embrace, and when the bartender puts your drinks in front of you, you both toast. 

“To the coolest girls, aka us,” she grins. As you both take a sip, someone taps her on the shoulder. Your best friend turns around and apparently she knows the young woman standing behind her, because she pulls her into a fleeting embrace before introducing you. ”Querida, this is Elena. She is also a model.”

In front of you stands a breathtaking beauty. With her brown hair, dark eyes and dark complexion, she looks as if she has just flown in from vacation. She is wearing a black and white dress that highlights her figure and accentuates exactly the right places to make her look flawless. 

You smile at her and introduce yourself as well. “Nice to meet you,” you say and extend your hand, but Elena kisses you on the left and then on the right cheek. 

“It's nice to meet you, too,” she replies with a smile before approaching you. ”Wait. Wipe below your eyebrows. You have some mascara on there.”

Without questioning her remark, you do as she says, and apparently it's good, because both women look at you with satisfaction afterwards. “Thank you,” you say. “That's very nice.”

Elena waves it off. ‘Don't worry. I'd want someone to tell me that too." She leans against the bar. ”You already have your drinks, right? Should I order shots for us?” she asks, but before either of you can answer, she is already talking to the bartender, who quickly prepares a cocktail and sets down three shot glasses in front of her. "Here you go," she says, handing each of you one of the glasses. 

After you've clinked glasses and emptied the small glasses, Kika fishes her cell phone out of her purse. ”Should we take a picture? I'm already drunk, but I definitely want a few more, and I don't think they'll get any better as the evening goes on,” she giggles, tapping someone on the shoulder to take a photo of you. First one of Kika and you, and then one of the three of you. 

“What's your name on Instagram?” Elena asks you, also digging out her phone so you can type your username into the search bar. When your profile pops up, she immediately clicks the follow button. 

Your phone lights up and the notification pops up on the lock screen, and when you tap it, you confirm her request and follow her right back. 

Her profile has a very aesthetic and artistic touch. Every picture is exactly where it should be. The colors all match and at the top of her biography is actually her full name: Elena Montpellier – one million followers – model at Bijou Management agency. 

“I didn't know that Lando had invited you,” Kika says to Elena, who just shrugs. 

“I'm here with friends,“ she replies as the three of you return to your seating area. "A friend of mine knows Martin and asked me if I wanted to come. And as if I'd stay at home when Martin is playing here in the club.”

Confused, you look from one beauty to the other. "So who is this Martin?” you ask hesitantly, afraid that Elena will laugh at you. 

But she doesn't. Quite the opposite. She slides closer to you and tells you about Martin, who is apparently a world-famous DJ. On her cell phone, she shows you videos of his shows and the crowds in front of which he usually performs, but in none of the sequences can you see his face. But suddenly she puts her cell phone down and motions for you to look up. “Speak of the devil.”

Your men join you and, like you, they have someone new with them. The face looks incredibly familiar. He kisses each of the girls on the cheek before introducing himself to you. And then it clicks. 

“Oh my God,” you gasp before he can say a word. ‘You're Martin Garrix.”

“That's me,’ he replies, visibly confused, glancing briefly at Lando, who puts his arm around your shoulder – skilfully ignoring Charles' scowl. 

“My friend here hasn't been in this industry for very long,“ he explains, gently pulling you over to his side. "This is all still pretty new.”

Martin looks back at you from Lando. ’Then I'm glad you're here today,” he smiles. “How did you end up with these guys, if you don't mind me asking?”

You're about to open your mouth to answer him, but Charles is faster. “She's my best friend,” he replies, standing next to you, his arm around your waist. He glances at Lando, who quickly removes his arm from your shoulder and catches your uncertain glance. 

“Okay, cool,” Martin simply replies. ”I still have about half an hour before I have to go to the desk. So, what's going on in your lives?”

While everyone is chatting, you hold back and watch. Pierre and Lando are talking, while Charles, Elena and Martin have moved closer together and the latter is showing something on his cell phone to the other two. You lean back into the couch and sip on your cocktail, Kika leaning on you. 

“I'm sorry he introduced you as his best friend,” she says, only audible to you. 

When you shrug, her head wobbles. “It's okay. I've made my peace with it,” you reply with a half-truth. 

Of course, you would prefer to be more than just his best friend – after all, you share a bed and the images of his expression when he came and painted your thighs refuse to leave you – but if his friendship is all you get from him, then that's that. 

“Please take care of yourself.” Kika raises her head and looks at you anxiously. ”I don't want you to get hurt. You've already been through so much.”

You gently press a kiss on her forehead. “I appreciate your concern.” Your gaze flickers over to Charles, who is now talking only to Elena. He shows her something on his phone and they both have to laugh. The woman leans forward a little to get a better look at the screen, but holds her neckline of the dress so that you can't see inside. 

Charles eyes move from his screen to you, without looking at Elena once. 

You smile at him, but before he can return it, the woman next to him says something and his attention is back to her, as if you weren't there. Maybe he just wants to be polite, after all, Pascale has taught him well and Charles is not one who just -

“Hi,” someone interrupts your train of thought and when you look up, Martin is standing in front of you. "I'm going to the DJ booth now and I thought you might like to join me," he suggests. ”As a kind of welcome and an apology for being so strange just now.”

You raise your eyebrows in wonder. “Actually, I should be the one to apologize. I'm not quite into the ‘famous people know other famous people’ thing yet. I'm sorry.”

Martin waves it off. “Don't worry. It takes some getting used to. But maybe it will help if you support me at the DJ booth.” He holds out his hand. 

“I've never done this before. So I can't guarantee anything,” you smile, which makes him laugh. 

“I'll show you everything. And if necessary, you can just stand next to me and look beautiful, but that shouldn't be a problem.“ 

“All right.” Without hesitation, you put your hand in his and he helps you to your feet. You take a quick glance at Kika, who grins at you and pushes the rest of your cocktail into your free hand, wishing you lots of fun. 

Your eyes flicker over to Charles, whose eyes are already glued to you. He doesn't seem to notice Elena at all, she talks and talks and apparently shows him something without realizing that his attention is not on her right now. He looks from your face to your hand, which is still holding Martin's, so that he can guide you through the crowd in a moment. 

It doesn't feel right to hold another man's hand, even if it's just for a moment. It should be Charles' hand holding yours. Charles' fingers entwined with yours. But Charles is sitting there with Elena, knee to knee. 

“Are you okay?” Martin asks, looking from you to Charles, who can't take his eyes off the two of you. 

You swallow and smile at him. “I'm fine.”

“Are you sure?” the DJ asks implausibly. “Charles looks at me as if he wants to kill me. You're just friends, aren't you?”

With your eyes fixed on Charles, you answer him. "Best friends," you correct him with the words of the Monegasque, before turning to Martin. ”Shall we?”

"With pleasure.”

As the two of you leave the seating area and you don't turn around to catch the eye of your best friend, Charles clenches his jaw. 

He already knows the feeling that is welling up inside of him, but last time it was Lando who triggered it and he had to work on himself not to see the Brit as competition. Which is complete nonsense, because Charles knows that Lando would never come between the two of you, not after he called the Monegasque and put him in his place while he was in Italy. 

And Charles knows that he has nothing to worry about. He is the man you go home with later. He is the man you share your bed with at night. He is the man who will later push up your dress and is allowed to touch you where you need him most. 

He knows all of this. And yet there is nothing he can do about it, except feel increasingly jealous with every step you take away from him.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

hi!! just wanna say you are my fav gravity falls author and im so obsessed with your fics for stan 🙏🙏 could i please have a stan x fem!reader smut where stan just REALLY likes tits. like a LOT. you have full creative freedom to go wherever you want with this idea i just wholeheartedly believe stan is a tit man <3 thank u and plz never delete this account youre the coolest 💞

Stan Pines is obsessed with you and your breasts ♡ (headcanons + blurb)

author note: hii, angel!! thank you sm for this sweet message, i'm literally melting and giggling and smiling rn!!! i can't even tell you how much this made my day, you're so kind and your words honestly mean the world to me 🤍 

i had so much fun with this idea, so here’s something for you bc ur wish is my command! i hope it’s what u expected. and thank you for supporting me! ♡

I need this grumpy old man so bad, guys send me more asks bout him also comments and/or reblogs are always appreciated, kisses u💋

nsfw, fem reader

♡ Stan is absolutely shamelessly obsessed with tits. your tits, specifically. big, small, somewhere in between, it doesn’t matter! he’s a hungry fucking man. he fucking loves breasts. worships them. adores them. can’t keep his damn eyes (or hands, or mouth) off them. “you’re gonna kill me with these things, doll, fuckin’ hell, look at ‘em.”

♡ the first time you caught him staring, you were a little shy about it, but he didn’t even try to deny it. “what? they’re right there! whaddya want me to do, not look? it’s like puttin’ a steak in front of a starving man and tellin’ him not to eat!” and you made the mistake of saying, “you could touch them if you wanted to.”

♡ because now his hands are always on you. always. you’re trying to cook? his big hands are sliding up your shirt, squeezing, kneading, thumbs brushing over your nipples, he’s testing just how fast he can make that little gasp slip from your lips. and god, all of that is being done with that smug grin on his face. “what? i’m helpin’.” sure, Stan. sure

♡ I wanna develop idea about cooking more, so: as i said, Stan can’t keep his hands off you when you’re cooking. for him it’s just an excuse to get his hands on your body. expect him to come up behind you, press his broad chest into your back, let his hands rest in your waist as his lips ghost over your neck, muttering “damn, you look so pretty, baby, you sure you don’t wanna skip dinner and come straight to bed?” when he’s rubbing his growing bulge against you while you’re stirring the pot, literally humping you in the middle of the kitchen. It’s hard not to laugh at how desperate he is

♡ the type of man who’ll insist he’s innocent even when he’s shamelessly and obviously staring. you could be fully dressed, wearing the baggiest clothes known to man and this filthy old bastard is still eye-fucking you. “what? can’t help it, doll, you’re beautiful.” no shame. zero!

♡ of course Stan loves to bury his face in your chest. it’s his happy place there. his hands sliding up your sides as he presses his face between your breasts, groaning, “fuckin’ heaven, toots. yer like a damn pillow, but better, so soft, so warm.” while you let your fingers run through his hair. It’s more about being intimate and soft though

♡ “goddamn, look at these beauties. best fuckin’ view in the world, ain’t it?”

♡ he’s a sucker for leaving marks on your breasts. bite marks, hickeys, little bruises from his teeth and fingers

♡ uhh. . . hear me out, him stuffing dollar bills into your bra as a joke (or no). “figure they’re safer here than my wallet anyway.”

♡ Stan loves when you wear anything that lets him see your nipples, especially when they’re hard (from cold or because you’re horny?), he goes crazy when thin shirt or a dress hugs your body. “goddamn, sweetie, could stare at those for hours.”

♡ his guilty pleasure is watching you put lotion on after a shower. you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, smoothing the cream over your arms, shoulders and chest and that old man is drooling

♡ Stan is so domestic, he loves the way you look in the morning, your breasts barely covered by his tank top that you stole. you stretch, yawning, your nipples peeking through the thin fabric and he’s already pulling you back into bed. “don’t care what we had planned today, baby. yer stayin’ right here with me.”

♡ Stanley gets so distracted when you’re undressing in front of him. doesn’t matter if it’s casual or if you’re trying to tease him, once your top comes off, his eyes are immediately glued to you while his cock already twitching to life in his pants. “jesus christ, woman, yer tryin’ to kill me. c’mere and let me get my hands on ya.”

♡ and when he finally gets you laid out on the bed, his hands worshiping every inch of you, oh, he takes his sweet time. dragging his thumbs over the stiff peaks of your nubs, leaning down to wrap his lips around one, sucking gently before giving it a teasing bite. he’s grinning against your skin when you gasp his name, one hand slipping down to spread your thighs apart while he gets comfortable between them. “love when you make these sounds. what’d i do to deserve this, huh?”

♡ oh, his tongue too. it’s wet and warm, circling slow before he flicks the nub just to watch your back arch. his free hand squeezes your other breast, pinching and tugging lightly on the nipple. he groans from how heavenly you taste. “softest damn tits I’ve ever had my hands on. christ, baby, I love you so much.”

♡ if you let him, he’ll press his cock between your breasts, his hands squishing them together as he ruts into the softness, groaning like a goddamn mess. “fuck, baby— mhmm, your so fuckin’ soft, look at this, huh? takin’ me so good, atta girl.”

♡ more thoughts about breasts fuck. i personally think Stan would love it? because there’s something about the sight of his heavy cock sliding between your breasts, the way you press them together for him, making a perfect, soft little channel for him to fuck into like a needy old man he is. he gasps, praises you, worships you whole as he watches himself disappear between them, his tip slick and glistening with precum every time it peaks out

♡ “fuck, doll, keep squeezin’ ’em like that. jesus, yer gonna make me cum just from lookin’ at ya.” and he does, oh, he does. he spills his seed all over your chest. and when he’s finished, Stan isn’t shy about making a mess, watching his cum drip down your breasts

♡ when he’s drunk, Stan gets even more handsy than usual

♡ you get him worked up sometimes by accident. like, when you’re reaching for something high up on a shelf and your shirt rides up, giving him the perfect view of your waist, those soft curves that drive him absolutely crazy. Stan will mumble something like “god, babe—gimme a second, I gotta go fix somethin’ in the back room. . . you know how it is with my old bones.” but it’s all a damn lie because he just needs to take a breather after staring at your body for the last five minutes

♡ Stan absolutely loves when you’re riding him, leaning over with your tits pressed into his face. he doesn’t care if it’s just for a few seconds or longer, he wants to feel them on his lips. he’ll lift his head slightly to suck on your cute nipples or trail hot kisses down your cleavage, his hands gripping your ass as he pushes his hips up to meet you. “sh-shit, baby, lemme just. . .��

♡ you lean over the counter while talking to him, doesn’t matter if you’re talking about what’s for dinner or how the vending machine ate your dollar, his eyes are locked on your chest only, already undressing you in his mind. he’ll mutter something gruff like, “yeah, uh-huh”

♡ loves to make you squirm. Stan’s a teasing bastard and he knows exactly what he’s doing when he brushes his thumb over your sensitive nipple slowly, watching it pebble under his touch. “sensitive today, huh? what’s the matter, sweetheart? thought ya liked it when i played with these pretty little nubs of yours.” and then he pinches, just to hear you gasp and watch you press your thighs together 

♡ i swear, Stan will make excuses to get you on his lap, just so he can slide his hands under your clothes and play with you while you sit there all flustered, giggling silly. “ain’t no law against touchin’ my girl, is there? c’mon, lemme have my fun, been thinkin’ about these all damn day.”

♡ as I mentioned, he’s a sucker for when you’re on top, bouncing on his cock while his big hands squeeze your waist, holding you so tenderly in his arms despite how hard and rough he bucks his hips into you, his mouth is latched onto your nipples. the way your breasts move drives him insane

♡ during lazy, slow sex, Stan loves lying on his side with you pressed against him, one hand massaging your breast as he thrusts into you slowly from behind. his lips are at your ear, whispering filthy things about how soft and warm you feel

♡ but when it’s rough, he’s gripping your breasts so hard you’ll have finger-shaped bruises the next day, pinching your nipples just to watch you arch your back and tremble under him, “you like that, huh? that’s right, my good fucking girl,” and every word he says he punctuates with a thrust. “can’t get enough of me touchin’ you, can ya?”

♡ reminder: Stan doesn’t just love your breasts because they’re sexy, though, yeah, they are. he loves them because they’re yours. soft, warm, comforting, just like you. and if he can bury his face in them and forget about the rest of the world for a little while? that’s just the cherry on top! a nice bonus!

♡ bonus: little blurb 

sight of you in his suit jacket, oh god. that thing swallows you whole but it’s too big for you so it hangs off your shoulders, exposing your skin, letting him see your thighs as well. Stan’s jacket, smelling like cigars, is over you in a way that makes his throat go dry. and underneath that beautiful little bra you knew would make his head spin, it’s lace and soft cups hugging you in ways he wished his hands were right now. your cleavage drawing his attention like a magnet. no, it’s too goddamn much for Stan to handle

he’s slouched on the armchair, legs spread wide, trying to keep himself from losing control. his eyes latch onto the soft lace of your bra, the way it cups your tits just beautiful enough to tease him. he looks so needy already and you’ve barely touched him

“Jesus christ, doll.” sounds like he’s choking on his own breath. “yer doin’ this on purpose, parading around in my jacket, showin’ off these tits like some goddamn pin-up doll, huh.” his lips curl into a smirk

perfect, just exact reaction you waited. you bite your lip, stepping closer, swaying your hips for him. you play it coy, of course. shifting the jacket like it’s just slipping off, letting one strap of your bra peek out more. “what? this old thing?” you smile like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing

and then he’s got his hands on you in an instant, dragging you into his lap because he can’t stand another second of his pretty girl being out of reach. his palms feels rough as they grip your hips, tugging you down until your thighs straddle his.

“you tryin’ to kill me, toots? walkin’ around like that, wearin’ my jacket.”  

your knees settle on either side of him, and his hands waste no time sliding up your thighs, over your hips, and straight to your waist, holding you close to him because this man is always starved for physical contact. his thumbs dip under the edge of the jacket, brushing the bare skin just above your bra

“Staaanley,” you breathe, your lips hovering just above his. your hands tangling in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan.

“No, no, no, don’t you ‘stan’ me, pretty,” he mutters, and one of his hands slips behind your back to unclasp your bra with a flick of his fingers, the other cupping your breast like he’s been dying to touch you all day. “you don’t get to tease me like that, wearin’ this fuckin’ outfit, and then say my name like some innocent little thing. you know exactly what you’re doin’, don’tcha?”

his thumb brushes over your nipple and then his lips follow, placing wet and hot kisses along your breast, sucking gently before biting down to make you gasp.  

“That’s it,” he groans against your skin. “wanna hear all those pretty little sounds you make, baby. fuck, you’ve got me harder than a goddamn rock.”  

he’s saying true because you feel the evidence of that pressing against your core, even through your panties. his free hand slides between your thighs, fingers pressing against the damp fabric and you whimper when he rubs slow circles over your needy clit.  

Stan grins as he pushes the lace aside. “you’re fuckin’ soaked. all this from me touchin’ your tits? jesus, doll, yer even dirtier than i thought.”

his fingers tease your wet entrance, rubbing over your folds before dipping inside, and your head falls against his shoulder, moaning as he pumps them slow and deep.  

“C’mon, baby,” Stanley brushes his lips over your ear as he fucks you with his fingers, his other hand still kneading your breast. “tell me who you belong to. say my name, and i’ll give you everything you want. everything. I’ll fuck you so good.”

you moan his name, digging your nails into his shoulders 

“Yes, that’s it,” his hand moves faster. “gonna make you scream for me, sweetheart. make sure you never forget who you belong to.”

[kwillow]

regarding romance involving your characters, im aware you've talked about how you likely wont engage in making content surrounding that topic (WHICH IS ABSOLUTELY FINE obviously), but do you mind if others do? i personally find a lot of enjoyment in those kinds of scenarios and itd be good to know if thats something you're fine with when it comes to your own creations. (im sure you get enough asks about romance already, apologies!!)

and related to this, are there any strict boundaries or hard lines youd prefer not to be crossed when it comes to fan content of them? even anything that just makes you uncomfortable; if youre alright with sharing, that is <:-} i would really like to know just to be certain

Hi there! This is a very kind and conscientious message; thank you for that. ^^

Short answer: sure, I don't mind if people want to make romantic-themed art or writing with my characters. It's flattering!

I don't really have much in the way of hard limits when it comes to depictions of my characters (not counting nsfw/kink art, where I'm also pretty permissive but want to be communicated with in advance), but here are some personal boundaries when it comes to how people treat me, the human:

My characters aren't able to be "claimed" by people for exclusive shipping purposes (either with other characters or for self-shipping). When people get jealous of either other people who want to ship themselves or their characters with mine, or jealous of the characters' in-story love interests, it creates a highly uncomfortable situation for me.

I'm happy for people to enjoy their romantic fantasies with my characters, but I am not included in that bargain. Liking my character does not mean one knows or is in any kind of relationship with me, platonic or otherwise (especially not otherwise).

Likewise, I probably won't reciprocate a lot of self-shipping or Your OCxMy OC type stuff. Of course I'll comment and appreciate the effort and the expression of being interested in my silly stories! But I won't necessarily make a lot of ship art in return or trade head-canons or what have you (again, I just am not super into shipping and I have my own story stuff I already don't have time to draw orz).

My characters aren't made to be boyfriend material. I also have not drawn/written/shown every part of their awful personalities or actions. In the future, I might reveal something about them that makes them unappealing or unsexy. People can ignore the unpleasant qualities I give my characters in their fantasies/fics, but I won't change how I write or draw the character to make them better suited to someone's tastes (yes this is something people have asked me to do).

I feel like stating some of these things makes me look a bit neurotic, like "oh come on, that's not going to happen," but unfortunately all of these things have happened to me before when people got, I guess, a liiiittle too romantically invested in my characters.

So really, I don't have many boundaries in the way of content. Go forth and write or draw or just imagine what pleases you (general you). Write them getting married, having unrequited crushes, being one of the last survivors of the Titanic and sacrificing themselves so that the other character can live her best life beyond their doomed romance, etcetera.

All I ask is that the appreciation is centered on the character as an imaginary being, and I, the real and very boring human woman, am largely ignored in the equation and not pulled in to do matchmaking, officiate any weddings, or act as a conduit to manifest a tulpa.

[lonewolflupe]

💖💖💖

(^•.•^)

Anon love! No anon hate here!

Dear Anon,

Thank you for being so wholesome today <3 I thank you for your support and for sharing anon love, it is so much appreciated <3 I'd like to gift you this trooper (that's actually me if I was wearing a Phase 2 helmet, after receiving your message):

[seungfl0wer]

Go Fund Me for my sister.

Hello all, I just wanted to make a small post for my sister. As some of you may know from some of my posts. She was just in a really bad accident and we were really scared she’d lose her baby. As of right now she is doing alright and the baby is kicking and moving. He’s still a few weeks off from being able to survive outside the womb so we’re hoping to get to that and it’ll be a lot more hopeful I guess. Since we live in the US you know how medical bills can be so she has a go fund me. If anyone would like to donate anything would be appreciated. Of course you don’t have to just your thoughts/prayers and good vibes are more than enough. But I just wanna put it out here incase anyone would like too.

Thank you to everyone for so much love and sweet messages. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for my lil sister and I just wanna help anyway I can.

https://gofund.me/671af099

[shinne55]

**Silent Confession**

Victor Grantz x Reader

Summary: Victor receives an anonymous letter on Valentine's Day.

Words in a conversation come and go: lies that hurt and secrets between paragraphs. Speaking in person is too complex. That’s why Victor took this job—nothing can escape in a letter. There are no hidden meanings; everything can be said from the depth of the heart. So, as a postman, he has the faithful task of delivering each letter to its destination.

It’s an honest and satisfying job. Happy, sad, bitter, or innocent faces hide behind every writer and their recipient. For the young man who didn’t speak, a letter is the purest and most sincere thing, more than an entire face-to-face conversation.

During the holidays, when the letters fill the mailbox, the busier he gets and the less time he has. Christmas, New Year, and birthdays follow, but above all, Valentine’s Day. A complicated date for a small postman, but highly appreciated by those who wish to find love. Knowing that within each envelope there is a destiny in motion made his young heart flutter.

Even though Victor had worked in his community for several months, he didn’t know the people by their names but by their letters.

The mother who writes with beautiful handwriting, pressing the pencil firmly as she writes to her husband and children away from the city.

The little ones who presumably write to Santa with scribbles and drawings.

And the lovers with their colored papers and perfumes.

On Valentine’s Day, the latter group increases noticeably.

During one of those nights, when he arrived home with his companion, Wick, a small dog that follows him everywhere, changed out of his uniform, and got ready to sleep, right after hanging his jacket and emptying his bag, a letter fell to the floor. Immediately, his eyes widened, and he looked inside his bag. It was the only letter that had slipped in the entire day, stuck with a cheap seal on the wall. A small square letter in a vermilion envelope with no name or address.

His eyebrows furrowed, and, determined to violate the author’s privacy, he opened the letter.

**To the postman

Thank you for your hard work**

No sender, no signature. An anonymous letter.

Was that it? A letter for him?

A thank you that would seem crude and silly to anyone else, but to the young mailman, a true feeling of recognition struck his chest, and immediately his cheeks turned peachy with happiness.

That night, he lay on his bed, thinking about the author. Whether it was a joke or not, he didn’t care. It moved him enough to appreciate the message. He slept with the letter open on his nightstand, and in the following days, when he returned home tired from work, he would look at that letter on his desk, under the bedside light. And his chest swelled with confidence.

The next of many letters came two weeks later. Same paper, same handwriting, and no sender.

**Dear postman

I don’t know if my letter really reached you. But I truly hope it did. Thank you for your service, without you, the community would have no real connection.**

The boy could feel the interaction as a small comfort or recognition, making him feel that his effort and dedication didn’t go unnoticed. If only he had their name, he would write them a thank-you letter. Sadly, many of these letters were taken from the mailbox. And very few were delivered directly to him.

Victor is, among many of the postman in his town, just another worker, and he didn’t have much speaking ability. He relied on listening and reading lost letters and pleasant conversations. Even so, he didn’t go unnoticed by some. Over time, he earned the trust of the older writers and neighbors who had the habit of writing almost daily and waiting for his response. So, thanks to that first letter, perhaps, Victor gained more confidence.

A couple of months later, with a one-sided connection on his part, and after several failed attempts to identify the address of the sender, he gave up and settled on reading them when he left work. A routine of preparing a cold glass of milk on the small table next to his bed, taking a couple of sips while reading these letters, which over time became longer. With little everyday things like the weather, funny town events, and annual celebrations. Until, weeks before Christmas, the last letter arrived.

**To the Dear Postman Victor**

He smiled. After several months, they had finally used his name in the letter, and that one-sided connection became more intimate. Sometimes it started with, *"My favorite postman,"* or a formal, *"Dear Victor."* All very polite until the author began recounting their day-to-day life. He knew much more about her life than his own. Everything except her name.

Calmly, with his dog snoring at the foot of the bed, he continued reading:

**"I’m sorry for sending these strange letters for so long. The truth is, I just wanted someone to talk to."**

Victor stopped reading and straightened his back against the headboard of the bed:

**"My mother passed away months ago, and my father three years ago. I’ve felt so alone, but the idea that someone would read one of these letters, and that it would be you, brings me comfort. But it’s also likely that I scared you or someone else. I’m truly sorry. It won’t happen again."**

No more letters arrived.

Was something happening to her during these months when she didn’t write? Was she feeling lonely and planning to do something drastic?

For many days, he was afraid. He knew loneliness and what it did to people firsthand. But it felt far worse knowing he couldn’t do anything to help her change her mind.

He waited a day, then a week, but that vermilion-colored paper, with those homemade seals, didn’t appear in any mailbox in the city. Victor was the only one responsible for collecting letters in that area, so it didn’t make sense for them not to show up.

“Are you looking for someone who lost her mother this year?” an old woman from the bakery he regularly visited asked. “Hmm, there’s a girl, yes. She hasn’t been seen lately. She usually comes to shop during the week. On Tuesdays, I think.”

*During the week—that’s when my shift begins, and I pick up the letters,* Victor thought.

Despite being reserved, the concern on his face and his written manner prompted the woman to share more details.

**[Who is she?]**

It was good he had his notebook on hand to communicate. Even though his hand trembled, and his writing was messy, the woman understood what he wanted to ask.

**[YN]**

**[Where does she live?]** he wrote quickly. Wrapped in his winter uniform and a scarf, he hid his nervousness with the cold.

“On Central Avenue, four blocks down.”

He grabbed his pencil again and wrote:

**[Do you know if she has any relatives or friends in the city?]**

The question puzzled the woman, and she hesitated to answer.

“You look like a good boy. You remind me of my grandson. No, she lives alone as far as I know. You know, he wasn't a... very good man. The poor girl has been accompanying her mother in mourning ever since. ”

Victor was already running, fast, faster than when he tried to deliver late packages or when chasing Wick for stealing his parcels.

He abandoned his usual calm demeanor and ran toward the address the woman had mentioned, clinging to hope. And there it was—a small house with a well-kept garden separating Victor from her. It was winter now, and a layer of snow covered everything in pristine white—the streets, rivers, and even her garden.

*Should I do this?* He didn’t know her in person, but after ten months of letters, he felt like he had known her his whole life.

Even so, he knocked gently, not brave enough to ring the doorbell further ahead.

Although she might not feel the same. Although she might think she was bothering him, Victor waited for her letter every day. He wanted to know about her life, every little detail. He wanted to hear her laugh, cry, and see her in person.

And even if they had never met before—

“Hello?”

He wanted to be by her side.

What words could he offer? What could he say when he had never spoken to her before?

“Victor?”

As he stood there, sweating, lungs and brain on the verge of collapsing, he stopped and saw her—you—for the first time. Just as he had imagined and more. His words couldn’t describe the wave of emotions he felt seeing you there, safe.

You were surprised it was him. He didn’t know your name or your address. That’s why you never included it. You had overthought it, assuming it would be awkward—and it was.

When Victor extended his arms with several letters in hand and a determined expression, your face shifted to concern and embarrassment.

“So, you read them all. I’m sorry.”

Quickly, he held the letters tightly to his chest, and his expression seemed to tell you not to apologize. Victor leaned down, his gaze full of tenderness, more so than Wick’s by his side. Somehow, the way his eyes reminded you of summer leaves and his hair of sunlight made you feel undeserving of something so good.

“You don’t know anything about me, you only know me through those silly letters.”

He shook his head, his eyebrows raising in protest. *Silly? Not at all.* When you saw him take out his notebook and scribble something with a pencil, you were puzzled to read it.

**[I know the girl who loves iced coffee at night, who loves animals as much as I love Wick.]**

“Please, go. You’re not doing any good staying here.”

You were about to turn and shut the door when Wick bit at the fabric of your pants. You tried shaking him off, only for Victor to grab your wrist.

His mouth trembled, his lips pressing together before forming anything more than a murmur. It felt cruel to turn your back on someone who, despite his disability, was trying to help you.

“I… like you.”

No one had ever heard him speak. People assumed he couldn’t. He spoke clumsily when it came to you, but he spoke. His voice, breathless yet soft, like cream in coffee, melted your heart to hear it.

“No! It’s impossible. No one could love me. You’re lying.”

Why wouldn’t anyone love you? Who had made you believe that? If someone thought they could never be loved that way, Victor assumed it would have been him—not someone like you.

He searched his pockets, his gaze panicking until Wick barked and placed an envelope on the ground. Victor patted his head and handed it to you.

Vermilion—the color of your letters. However, this one had a sender.

**To YN, from Victor.**

**[You opened your heart to me, YN, in a way no one else ever has. And now, I have to give you mine.]**

“Victor…” You clutched the letter.

He gave you a broken smile, encouraging you to read it fully.

**[You will live a long life, YN, watching the sunset every evening. You won’t ever be alone again. I just need one thing.]**

The letter ended there.

“But what is it that you want?”

He pointed to himself. He placed his hands, loosely balled into fists, over his heart, as if hugging something precious. Then, he took your hands and intertwined them over your chest.

“I don’t understand… Why? Aren’t you tired of hearing from me and reading about me?”

He wrote something else in his notebook:

**[I could listen to you my entire life.]**

You didn’t fully understand, but with him, words weren’t necessary.

**[I’ve met many people in my life, but none like you. I found you, YN. I won’t let you go. I love you.]**

You felt foolish. Every emotion you’d suppressed spilled out like crystalline pearls. You couldn’t say anything, but you hugged him like you’d always been searching for him, while he had been waiting for you.

In that moment, Victor knew he had found love in your silence.

[aasouthteranoswife]

Hello

It's my birthday 🎂 today

I was hoping if you can write something smut with plot for bonetn I'm not sure if you write it tho if not totally fine anything tokyo revengers would be amazing

Preferably dominant male and submissive reader. As usual.

Thank you very much love ❤️

Under His Shadow

Summary: you are entangled with the infamous Bonten after an innocent courier's job goes awry. Taken under Mikey’s control, you’re thrust into a dangerous world of power games and mistrust. Mikey’s authority becomes suffocating as tensions rise, while his enigmatic demeanor keeps you on edge. The Bonten executives, especially Sanzu and Kokonoi, test your boundaries as they weave you deeper into their plans. But when a cryptic message surfaces, suggesting you might not be as innocent as you claim, the stakes skyrocket, leaving you trapped in a dangerous web of suspicion.

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVE. I hope you in enjoy this and your birthday tooooooo

Warning(s): Power dynamics and control themes, Mentions of fear, manipulation, Dark themes, Suggestive undertones.

Word Count: 1365

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT Reblog’s and feedback are appreciated

The room was dimly lit, the city skyline painting fractured light across the sleek, polished floor. You found yourself in the lion's den—a private meeting room in Bonten’s high-rise headquarters. You weren’t sure how you’d ended up here, caught in a game far beyond your comprehension. But one thing was certain: Mikey sat at the head of the table, and his presence was suffocating.

Around him, the other executives watched you with unreadable expressions. Sanzu twirled a knife between his fingers, a wicked grin playing on his lips. Kokonoi leaned back in his chair, scanning you with a mix of curiosity and mild disinterest. Rindou and Ran exchanged glances, like they were betting on your survival odds.

Mikey, however, didn’t move. His black eyes seemed to pierce through you, stripping away any pretense of courage. “You’ve been following us,” he said, his voice as soft as silk and twice as dangerous.

You stiffened, the weight of their gazes making your knees weak. “It’s not what it looks like,” you stammered, clutching your bag tightly. “I—I was just delivering something. I had no idea who you were.”

“Lying won’t help you,” Kokonoi said lazily, his tone carrying a warning.

Sanzu chuckled, leaning forward with a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “She’s trembling. Cute.”

“Enough,” Mikey’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. His tone wasn’t loud, but it silenced the room instantly. “What were you delivering?”

You hesitated, but the weight of his gaze made it impossible to resist. You reached into your bag and pulled out a small, wrapped package. “It’s...just a package. I don’t know what’s in it. I was paid to deliver it, that’s all.”

Mikey extended his hand, and you hesitantly placed the package in his palm. He unwrapped it slowly, revealing a stack of documents. His expression didn’t change as he scanned them, but you could feel the shift in the air. Whatever the papers contained, it was enough to make him lean back in his chair, his gaze settling on you once more.

“You’re either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid,” he said after a long pause. “Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with?”

You shook your head, words failing you.

“You belong to us now,” he declared, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Until I figure out who sent you and why, you’ll stay close. Very close.”

Mikey’s declaration hung in the air like a noose. The room was silent except for the faint hum of the city outside. You didn’t dare move. Your pulse raced as his dark eyes bore into you, unwavering and unreadable. His command had been absolute, leaving no room for negotiation.

“You’ll stay here,” he said coolly, gesturing to the room with an almost lazy flick of his wrist. “I’ll decide what to do with you.”

“Here?” you blurted before you could stop yourself. The word slipped out, shaky and uncertain, and you immediately regretted it. Mikey’s expression didn’t shift, but the slightest tilt of his head made your stomach churn.

“Did I stutter?” His voice was soft but lethal, like a blade sliding from its sheath. “Or do you think you can tell me no?”

Before you could respond, Sanzu let out a low chuckle from across the room, his grin wide and unsettling. “I like this one. Got some fight in her. Let’s see how long that lasts.”

“Not your call, Sanzu,” Mikey said without looking at him, his tone colder than the steel glinting in Sanzu’s hand. It was a subtle reminder of the hierarchy here. A reminder you were now a part of, whether you liked it or not.

Kokonoi leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he regarded you with a speculative gaze. “She’s trouble, Mikey. Trouble wrapped in a pretty package. If we’re keeping her, she’ll need watching.”

Ran smirked, brushing his long hair back casually. “I could volunteer. She seems my type.”

“Enough,” Mikey cut in again, this time sharper. His attention returned to you, his eyes dark and calculating. He rose slowly, and the weight of his presence grew tenfold as he approached. His steps were silent, deliberate, the kind that made you want to retreat but froze you in place instead.

When he stopped in front of you, you couldn’t bring yourself to look up. Your heart hammered as his fingers gently tilted your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. His touch was surprisingly light, almost teasing, but the power behind it was unmistakable.

“You’ll stay under my watch,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate, like he was sharing a secret. “And you’ll follow my rules. Understand?”

Your breath hitched, your mind racing as you tried to process the dangerous intensity in his eyes. You managed a nod, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

“Good girl,” he said, his lips curling into the faintest smirk. The words sent a jolt down your spine, equal parts fear and something you didn’t want to name. He straightened, letting his hand drop, but the warmth of his touch lingered, an unspoken reminder of his control.

“Take her to one of the suites,” he said to Kokonoi, his tone businesslike now. “And make sure she has everything she needs.”

“And by everything?” Kokonoi asked with a raised brow, his usual sly smile tugging at his lips.

“Nothing extravagant,” Mikey replied, his gaze still locked on you. “She’s not a guest. She’s an asset.”

Mikey lingered far too close, his dark eyes pinning you in place. The faint trace of his breath against your skin made your pulse race, and though every instinct told you to pull away, you couldn’t move. His touch was deceptively gentle as his fingers slid down your jaw, grazing your neck before he withdrew entirely.

“You’ll do as I say,” he murmured, stepping back with an air of calm authority. “And maybe, just maybe, you’ll get out of this alive.”

The unspoken threat made your stomach churn, but before you could respond, Mikey’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, his eyes narrowing as he read the message. The air shifted immediately, tension crackling like a live wire.

“Sanzu,” he said, his voice sharp and cutting.

As if summoned, the man appeared in the doorway, his ever-present grin faltering slightly at Mikey’s tone. “What’s the problem, boss?”

“Someone’s been playing games,” Mikey said, holding the phone up for Sanzu to see. Though you couldn’t read the screen, whatever it was clearly serious enough to darken Mikey’s expression further. “Our visitor might not be here by chance after all.”

Sanzu’s gaze flicked to you, his grin returning, but now with a dangerous edge. “I told you she was too interesting.”

“Find out who sent her,” Mikey ordered, his tone low and commanding. “And make sure they understand the consequences.”

Sanzu’s laugh was unsettling, like the crackle of flames. “Oh, this’ll be fun.”

“Wait,” you blurted, panic rising in your chest. “I told you, I don’t know anything! I’m not working for anyone—I’m just a courier!”

Mikey turned back to you, his expression unreadable, but there was something cold and calculating in his gaze. “If that’s true, you’ll have nothing to worry about.” His head tilted slightly, almost mockingly. “But if you’re lying…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t need to. The implication hung heavy in the room.

“You’re staying here,” he continued, his tone final. “Until I know who you are—and why you’re really here.”

Before you could argue, Mikey turned to leave, Sanzu following closely behind. But just as Mikey stepped out, he paused in the doorway. Without looking back, he said one last thing that sent a chill down your spine.

“Don’t get comfortable. This is just the beginning.”

The door shut behind him with a resolute click, leaving you alone in the eerie silence. Your heart thundered in your chest as you stared at the closed door, the weight of Mikey’s words settling over you like a storm cloud. Just as you took a shaky breath, the phone on the desk buzzed—a single, ominous notification lighting up the screen.

It read: "We know where you are."

Taglist 🏷️

@haitani-maki @rainswriting-blog

Networks: @themovingcastlez @pixelcafe-network

Dividers: @/enchanthings

aasouthteranoswife © 2024-2025 All rights reserved. Do not repost, reupload, modify, or claim my work as your own.

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

On The Hunt: Working As A Unit

Summary- 5.2k Alpha Steve x Little One Reader. You and Steve are finding a new side to being around one another. Neither of you had simple downtime before, but a possible glimpse into what life could be like for you. A mission together leads you two to become a lethal team.

Warnings- Hand-on-hand combat, heated at the moment making out and touching. This is an 18+ Only Blog.

A/N- Wow it's been a while and I so appreciate everyone who has been so patient, sending supportive messages and the asks simply saying that they missed this couple. Knowing really kept me going. I know I have been vocal about how I've been struggling with writing but you all keep me going. I love it so much, even when it's hard. Thank you so much @yenzys-lucky-charm for bouncing ideas, reading the snippets I would email, and giving suggestions. You have no idea how much it means to me. Dividers made by @firefly-graphics. Happy Reading!

Chapter 9 / Masterlist

You and Steve started going on more missions together that Shuri sent along while waiting for Ulysses to return to the area. 

Sometimes it was about gathering intel on suspected smugglers, other times it was wider-spread travel, intercepting shipments leaving with hostages. All small, and easy enough for you and Steve to do together without many issues. 

Together you two started growing as a functioning team, relying on each other in ways you hadn’t before. Steve began to rely on your tracking skills, letting the Little Wolf lead the way to intercept smugglers moving small groups of shifters while your smaller stature kept you easily from sight. You in turn depended on Steve to take out threats along the way, the Alpha using speed and surprise to subdue anyone who took notice of the Little Wolf prowling. 

With T’Challa’s help, you could relocate the victims to get the help they needed and pass along information, allowing Wakanda to start mapping out trafficking routes. 

You and Steve were making a difference together. 

On the days when Shuri had no missions to send you two on and Ulysses had yet to make an appearance to the warehouse, you and Steve used this downtime to rest and prepare. Thankfully the heat passed, without you doing anything with Steve beyond sleeping in his bed with him. That simple act was enough to get you both through it. You had the Alpha’s presence in what became your nest and Steve was allowed to take care of the Omega in whichever way you needed him. 

As much as you both craved the intimacy sex would give in the moment, you knew deep down that you were still trying to heal, and be with Steve with trust in him not to abandon you or force you into a position that gave him all the power over you.

Steve kept his promise, nothing would happen between you two till you were ready. 

You learned to appreciate those days of nothing but each other's company. Typically Steve was the first to wake up and make breakfast.

Since your heat was over, you had moved back into your bedroom, without him fighting you about it. The Little Wolf had something to say, but she relented in the end. Whenever you wandered out Steve would have a plate of food ready along with coffee, and a gentle smile before you two would fall into a safe conversation, usually going over mission notes together and putting together a report to send back to T’Challa. 

Mid mornings Steve usually went for his runs while you did your workouts in the open living area, sometimes if Steve came back in time, he would follow along with you, going through the defense and attack moves that you had learned from the panthers in Wakanda. Steve also showed you other moves that he had learned in his years with the Howling Commandos, you were a quick study, and earning Steve’s praise made you feel giddy in a way that you hadn’t in a long time. 

Sweat was running down your back and face, heavily panting while Steve tossed you a water bottle while guzzling his own down, a wide proud smile flashed at you. “Y/N, do you even know how badass you are Little One?” He gave you a slight nudge when you turned a bit shy, rolling your eyes at him while taking some deep swallows from the bottle to keep from saying anything. “I mean it, if you ever wanted to, I’m sure Natasha would train you in her skillset.” 

You paused, your heart aching at his words like he genuinely believed you would one day return to his home, regardless of the status of you two. But you partially felt responsible that the pack didn’t have their Alpha, and part of you wondered how many of the wolves felt that you were to blame for his disappearance. Steve frowned seeing you shut down in front of him, your face turning away and your lips pulling tight as your inner thoughts spun, the Little Wolf growing agitated in your mind. Impulsive his fingers gripped your chin, making you face him with a questioning look. “Little One, where are you?” When your eyes snapped back into the moment, he let his hand drop. 

“Steve, I don’t know if going back is an option for me. That’s your home, your family. Me being there…” You broke off, not wanting to voice those dark little thoughts. 

Steve’s brow came together as he pieced together what you were not saying. “Y/N, you are a member of the pack, you became one the moment I invited you to stay before we were even together.” 

That’s always going to be our home Y/N. Your Little Wolf chimed in with a swish of her tail.  

“Our pack is found family.” Steve continued. “Bucky and I were born into it, but Sam and Sara came when they needed a place outside of the chaos of Shield. Natasha’s home pack was destroyed to recruit the pups, training them into assassins. When she broke free of them, she went to Nick Fury to deliver the organization’s crimes and he sent us in to dismantle the organization. She came back with me. Pietro and Wanda landed in Tony’s pack for a short time and went between us when they needed a break from the city. Clint came with his human wife needing to give her space from living in a pack but still be close enough for his wolf to find peace and have safety for his family.” Steve pieced together different members' stories, trying to convince you that you belonged there just as any of the others did. “It doesn't matter if we’re mated or not Y/N, they are your family and will tell you the same thing I did. You came when you needed a home and it will remain your home. Regardless of our history, I would never ask you to leave your family.” 

Now that was something you never considered, but the idea of it settled. You and Steve had already come so far with each other since he first left, would you be able to stay even just as friends? The Little Wolf settled back down once your line of thinking shifted. 

The evenings were when you two finally relaxed, crashing on the couch with the apartment TV. playing a movie that one of you picked out. You would curl up in the corner of the couch, eyes glued to the movie Steve had picked that night. 

This wasn’t something you had done before, not like this. Living with Pierce pack, there wasn’t entertainment allowed to the shifters for sale, you were just kept locked away with the necessities and each other to keep company, and living with Steve, you two would occasionally settle into watching some TV show, but most of the time you two or the wolves were exploring, Steve giving you a glimpse of life like you've never experienced before. But that wasn’t the case anymore and you found a deep love of movies. 

So night after night, you would make some snacks that you found in the store around the corner of the block, Steve would scan for iconic movies you absolutely must see, according to him. 

You got to also see a side of Steve you hadn’t seen before. A completely relaxed man, tossing popcorn into the air to catch you two turning it into a game, soon there was popcorn scattered all across the living room as the two of you started trying to toss it across the couch into one another's mouth. 

His face would scrunch up when you bounced the buttery pieces off his forehead or cheeks, making him chuck his pieces right back at you, making you smile in victory. “For being the big bad wolf Steve, you can’t catch worth shit.” You teased from across the couch, tossing up a piece to catch on your own. 

Steve brushed the loose popcorn on the floor and prepared to clean it up the next day. “I’m better at taking bites, not playing catch.” His teeth snapped in your direction and the two of you stared at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter, tears streaming down your face as your giggles turn to hiccups. 

The Alpha is smug in Steve’s mind, knowing he made you laugh like that. 

Slowly movie night worked its magic, before either of you knew it, you two were cuddled up together on the couch, sharing bowls of snacks between you and the two of you debating the quality of the storyline and characters. Steve started getting a feel for what he thought you liked and proposed your first movie marathon. 

You lasted halfway through the eleven-hour Lord of the Rings marathon. You tried but somewhere in the middle of the second movie your head dipped down onto Steve’s shoulder and your breathing leveled out into the tone of sleep. 

<Look at that Steve, put her right to sleep.> The Alpha snickered in Steve’s mind, prowling restlessly in missing the bond. Steve barely moved as he eased the blanket off the back of the couch, letting it drape over your curled-up form, and you cuddled up closer to him, rubbing your face into the crook of his neck. 

Steve stiffened, this was the first time you’d touched him since your heat and he didn’t want to push past boundaries. 

<You relaxing with her isn’t gonna undo everything you two have accomplished so far.> 

Steve let the Alpha’s common sense settle, letting himself loosen, sinking in a bit against you and enjoying your warmth pressing into him. His focus turned back to the movie while his arm rested over your shoulders. 

When you woke up the next morning, you were still on the couch, your head pillowed and covered in a soft blanket that smelled like Steve. You tugged it around you tighter, sleepily smiling as you buried your face into the soft fabric and inhaled. Your Little Wolf was so content in your mind. You felt safe here, with Steve in this little apartment and it hit you that you hadn’t felt this way in a long time. Even when you were back in Wakanda, you constantly felt the need to watch your back. Now with Steve, you could relax and put all your energy into the mission. 

Adrenaline rushed through your veins, everything was in hyper-focus. Your Little Wolf paced, wanting to hunt down her prey. 

She practically salivated at the thought of opening her maw wide and sinking her fangs into these bastard's flesh, ripping them apart piece by piece.  

You let that rush feed your senses, making everything sharper. 

The crowd of handlers was rough with the shifters they were smuggling, all of them enclosed in collars. The Little Wolf’s snarls filled your mind at the sight. Your eyes narrowed on them, these were not panthers like you were expecting. 

Shuri had sent coordinates for a pack of wolves. You whispered, enough for Steve to hear you in the comm in your ear. “Where do you think they are from?” 

The Alpha was out of sight looking for the best vantage point of attacking the smugglers while keeping the prisoners safe. “I don’t know Little One. I don’t recognize any of them. They could be from home… we knocked out a large portion of it when we took out Brock, but it's hard knowing how far Hydra has spread.” 

“Are we able to get them out?” You asked as you started taking a quick count of how many there were.

“Their collars are not like mine,” Steve observed, making you take note of the leather strap enclosed around their necks. “I think that it's merely preventing them from shifting, they are fighting against the bonds, so they have free will.” 

Indeed you saw several snarl at the armed individuals forcing them from the warehouse, marching them across a shipping yard towards a large cargo ship. “That’s good.” 

“They won’t be fighting against us, if my theory is correct.” 

“Alright Captain, what’s the plan here?” 

“Cute Little One.” You heard him snort a bit, making your Little Wolf huff in amusement. “Get your ass onto that cargo ship unseen. If you can make your way to holding, do it.” 

You started working your way closer, using cargo containers to shield you from the scattering of guards on the perimeter. “And then what?” 

“Work your way inside, take out whoever you have to. There should be minimal security below deck.” 

“What are you going to do?” You paused at the ship's edge, scanning it for a way to get onboard. Nearby you could hear voices, but still seemed far enough away that you didn't duck back into hiding. Not yet anyway. 

“Work my way through the above deck crew.” You heard a swoosh through the comm, sure it was the shield T’Challa had made for him. You tapped your bracelet, feeling the metal lightly sweep over your chest and across your back, covering your most vulnerable spots. 

You kept searching for a spot to climb onto the towering cargo ship.“You got this Little One?” 

Your Little Wolf tensed, ready for you to take that leap. “Got this Alpha, see you up there.” 

“I will make a distraction for you and draw their attention so you can slip inside.” 

You prepared yourself for Steve’s distraction, sprinting to the walkway leading up to the ship's dock. It wasn’t long till you heard shouts of alarm and shots. 

“You better be okay Steve!” You harshly whispered into your comm as you took the opening. 

“Worried about me, Little One?” You heard in return, a hint of teasing in his tone while his comm crackled with background noise. 

“Just not in the mood to come save your ass.” You sass back, letting your senses wander. The ship shuddered beneath your feet, signaling that it was getting ready to ship off. Noticing a door that led into the ship, you sprinted for it. Skidding to the metal door, you eased inside. 

“Stay safe Little One.” Steve’s voice filled your head just as you ran into someone patrolling. His eyes widened when he saw you, raising his weapon in preparation to shoot you. 

It was automatic, your leg swung out to kick the barrel away and you pushed forward, your hand lashing out to cuff the man's face. The butt of the gun swung into your shoulder, knocking you off kilter. 

“We got a brea-” The guard started into his comm system. With a snarl, you tackled him, grabbing at his ear and ripping at the device to keep him from continuing his alert. The gun went skidding out of reach, but he hit you to stop your attack, whiplashing your face till blood burst from your mouth from a busted lip and making your head ring at how hard he had hit you. “Bitch!” His foot planted against you, shooting you off of him to sail over his head. You crashed against the floor, skidding across the metal. 

Your body twisted away from him. <Weapon!> Your Little Wolf alerted you and you snatched it to pull towards you when he came crashing back on you, the air crushed from your body. It was worth it though, getting him that close as you were able to swing the gun, cracking it aside his head. 

The guard's eyes rolled back at the sudden hit and he collapsed over you. “Fuck” You muttered, wriggling till you were able to pull out from underneath him. Shouldering the rifle, you also shoved his comm in your ear to listen in on the others. You pulled at him to drag him into a nearby room and slammed the door shut, twisting the handle enough to break it, preventing it from opening. 

In the comm, you could hear shouts of alarm, that someone was wreaking havoc on the top deck. 

<Steve is giving us our chance to secure the hostages.>

With a sprint, you started racing towards the stairs and swinging over the banister to drop several levels quickly, bypassing as much as you could. And we're gonna make every second count. 

“WHOA!” Someone shouted from the stairwell, making you glance up to see a couple of faces looking down at you. They didn’t give another warning, their weapons shoved over the railing and shot down at you. You ducked the bouncing bullets as best you could, dodging out of the stairwell back into a hallway. Thumps from the stairwell let you know they weren’t far behind.

Securing yourself around a corner, you dropped to your knees, rifle aimed down the hallway, ready for the attack. 

The Little Wolf honed in on the sound of footsteps, under your breath, you started counting the seconds to yourself, your breathing going calm. Once that door slammed open, your finger pressed down on the trigger. 

The shield Steve was given repelled the bullets, his arm shooting up to block himself while using the shield as a ram, rushing against the crew while bullets rained on him. The pinging was ear-splitting but they bounced off, resulting in hitting quite a few of the people attacking him. 

It had gone far better than he expected. The scattering of bullets dropping men in his path, then a few well-placed hits between his fist and the shield kept the momentum. 

<BEHIND YOU!> Came a sharp snarl and Steve twisted enough to miss the dagger in his back, catching him on the side of his neck instead. 

Pain made him bare his teeth with a snarl, turning to his foe. 

“Last one I expected to see.” Came the man's sharp reply, his blade swinging in his hand till his hand gripped the handle, prepared to slash at Steve should he come close enough. “Better prepared though than when Brock took you. Where’s your little bitch this time?” His smirk was cold as he continued his taunts. "Figures you would be too weak to snap her neck."

Steve let his words slide away, eyeing the man. <Provoke him into an attack.> His Alpha circled slowly, a predator on his hunt. 

Steve sensed the change in the air, the confidence in his opponent growing that he was able to push the Alpha into dropping his protection. It gave him the guts to charge Steve, his knife ready to sink into him. 

Last second Steve swung his arm up, the vibranium swiftly blocking the attack and cutting the blade off at the handle. With his hand, he grasped the sheared knife blade falling and flicked his hand into the man's gut, sinking the metal into him. 

Blood spurted out of his mouth, his eyes wide in surprise as Steve snarled in his face. “You were not much of a threat, were you?” The man dropped, Steve clenched his cut hand, trying to stop the bleeding grabbing the bare knife had caused. “Y/N… location?” He said out loud, holding his breath still to quiet himself, letting the comm have all his focus. 

It was quiet for a few moments, making the Alpha in him grow agitated. <Call again> 

Give her a chance. Steve waited for it, anything from you when your voice cut through the silence he willed on himself.

“I’m below… port side. I still haven't found where they are keeping them.” Your aggravated voice came through. “Shit-” Your voice suddenly cuts out, making Steve cry out. 

“Y/N?” He bolted, shoving himself into an open door, and racing down the stairs, he started passing others that you had already taken out. Steve headed towards the left, darting down halls and crashing through doors, essentially following your trail. 

Your scent was getting stronger and soon he heard loud thumps and grunts. The Alpha snarled as fear tainted Steve, all his senses growing sharper trying to get to you. 

Sprinting down the hall and locating where the sounds of fighting were coming from, he busted into a steel door, making it snap open to find you with your thighs wrapped around a man's head, your hands gripping at him and yanking his head back, your teeth bared with the effort while the man struggled to get free. 

It made Steve pause a second, processing that he was watching you about to snap a man's neck. And with a yank, the body fell limp and you untangled yourself. “Fuck…” He muttered, making your gaze snap to his, heated between the two of you. 

For half a second, before your eyes widened in alarm. “Behind you!” Steve whipped around to throw his shield up, the ping of bullets bouncing off them. A kick was aimed at his uncovered legs, making him grunt in surprise as he stumbled back, making you yelp in alarm.

<SHIFT!>  

You started wiggling yourself free from under the body, your Little Wolf urging you to shift cause she could move faster than you could. But it wasn’t necessary, the next moment a hand shot at you, Steve taking hold of your hand and pulling you to your feet. 

“Are you hurt?” You both asked each other at once, both of you panting from exertion and adrenaline racing, your hands pawed at one another, trying to check each other out when you took an exhale of relief. 

He was fine. 

“Little One,” Steve growled, staring down at you with a wild look, betraying everything he was feeling in that gaze. The glazed look of adrenaline-rushed fear and relief, as well as the lust simmering for you, the need to be able to reach out and take you. 

And you so desperately wanted it, your heart racing and the whole mission catching up to you, you pulled in closer, grasping at him to lift yourself to crash your mouth into his with a possessive growl. 

One that Steve equally matched with force, the air stolen from you as he hauled you into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist and arching into him as you pushed your fingers into his hair to grasp on, tilting your head to get closer inside of him, your tongue plunging past sharp bites and snarls. 

Your back slammed into the ship's steel wall, effectively pinning you against his hardened body and it drove you feral feeling your mate so hard between your thighs, your hips rocking into him for the friction, your suit rubbing you in a teasing way, but you wanted to rip it off, everything between you. 

You wanted to feel his heat pour into you, his body smothering yours till you couldn’t get free, not ever again. You wanted to be claimed inside and out, made to be all his. 

More than being in heat could ever burn you. This wasn’t just a need to fuck each other. 

“You gotta- you gotta make me stop.” He hissed against your mouth, his eyes screwing shut like he was trying to control himself and you gave a sharp tug on his hair, pulling his mouth open in a gasp so you could claim again. “We can’t right-” 

You cut him off before even letting him finish. “Don’t you fucking dare Steve, not this time. You can’t take my choice from me.” You studied his eyes when they sprang back open, searching for your consent. “I want this, this is me telling you yes.” You tilted to his neck, nipping along the column to make him shudder, his head tilting back to give you all the room to use your mouth on him. You felt your Little Wolf tense, almost like she was holding her breath, waiting to see what Steve would choose. “The question is, do you want us? As messy and complicated we might be?” You felt him pull away, letting your feet settle back onto the floor, the ships wall no longer at your back. The space in between the two of you felt miles wide, making your Little Wolf curl on herself. 

Would he believe you were ready or would he pull away convincing himself that he wasn’t good enough for you? Steve eased you back from him, making sure you were looking right in his eyes, seeing the truth for yourself. “Before I even knew who you were, Little One, I looked for you. I will always want this life with you.” 

So easily were the roles reversed, Steve grasping the front of your neck to drag you in against him, closing whatever distance there was between you two. Your body so easily fit against his, all your senses coming alive feeling him hard against you while blue eyes searched yours, silently pleading for this moment to be true. 

All you could do was share another look back, reassurance, desire, hunger, and love. Words couldn't come close to what you needed to say to him, even if you could talk right now. But it was enough for Steve, for he claimed your mouth with his, taking away every rational thought. 

Your Little Wolf started her mates' song while Steve practically took all the air from your lungs. You clutched at him till he maneuvered you back into a wall, bouncing against the ship's metal with a whimper from you. 

It was enough to make him pull back, concern flashing across his features for a second but you yanked him back, clutching your hands into his suit and urging him with your kiss. You bit onto his lip, tugging. You wanted all of him, all that time spent apart made you feel almost frantic to reclaim some of what was lost. 

Steve growled against your mouth, your taste sending him right back to that first mating, how he couldn't get you out of his head, his Alpha driven mad to have you as his. His hand at your throat softened, slid up to cup your face, and then back to the base of your neck, digging his fingers into your hair and clutching, easing you back till your head tilted back. 

Panting as you stared up at him, you tilted your head back even further to let your throat flash, his gaze dropping to the column that bared his old bonding mark. It made his eyes flash almost possessively while he dropped his head and nipped along your neck, but never made that bonding claim even though he scrapped his teeth against it, making your body tighten, your thighs clenching as heat rushed through your core. His hand not holding your head still skimmed down your body, taking his time even though his kisses were urgent. “I never told you enough how perfect you are Little One. The only one I could ever belong to.” He breathed against you, his nose buried in against the racing pulse in your neck, drawing you in. 

Your touch was all over, recommitting the feeling of your Alpha against you. Your hands tried to work the fabric looser so you could get to his skin, but your hands were captured, stretching above your head to keep you pinned in place. “Please, Steve.” Your body arched, anything now to have him touch you, your Little Wolf was driving you mad with her song. She craved her Alpha, just as badly as you did.  

“I know Little Wild One, my Omega.” Steve nipped at your mouth, drawing you into another kiss that was deeper and more wild than the last one at first, slowing down into one of worship from him. His hand slipped between your thighs, gliding up to your center where you arched your hips into his touch. 

And this time being touched felt right. His hand cupped your heat, fingers pressing right against your sensitive spot and setting off your bundle of nerves till you were whimpering against his mouth. “Inside me Steve, I need you, not your fingers.” 

His jaw clenched at your words, the muscle fluttering with restraint. “We can’t do this...” His nostrils flared and he started cursing in his growls, catching your arousal and making his pupils dilate sharply on you. 

Your heart started to break at his words, a pained growl rising from you as you tried pulling from his hold but his hand on your wrists tightened and your teeth bared as you tilted your head, lust and anger taking over your features suddenly. 

His fingers never slowed down still bringing you higher, all your nerves firing pleasure through your body till it shook. “You cut me off earlier Little One. We can’t right now because it’s not safe.” His mouth nipped yours, risking the possibility of you biting back. His mouth dipped to your ear, growling against it. “Once I’m so deep inside you, knotting you to me, I am not going to be able to stop, not till you’re begging me for relief and then I still might not be able to. Be my good Omega because right now it's too dangerous for me to make up for all my mistakes while I am worshiping your body. Let me get you back to your nest.” His hand slipped into the band of your pants until he could feel just how warm you were, his touch expertly finding that bundle of swollen nerves and dragging calloused fingertips around it, circling and applying more pressure. Every little pleasurable nerve raced through your system. The touch of leather of his fingerless gloves made you whimper, arching your hips into his touch, letting yourself go finally. 

Your face buried in against him, still riding his hand for that relief. The spiral was building faster. Steve lifted your head from his chest, pressing his forehead to yours. “Come for me Little One.” He nipped his command on your mouth, pulling your whimpers and moans into him, all those pleasured sounds till you gasped, your gaze losing focus as you sank in against him. He let your wrists go, falling heavily onto his shoulders and he steadied you with murmured praises. “I promise Little One, I got you, I’m not letting you go.” 

Steve buried his nose in your hair, inhaling your scent deeply. Feeling his mate so close calmed his Alpha from fighting him too much. Your scent was warmth wrapping around him, that you were satisfied and taken care of, enabling the Alpha in his mind to settle knowing that you were safe with him. Warmth curled through him feeling you hide against him, his arms wrapping you closer so you felt safe in this moment. If he had it his way, you would be back at the apartment, treating you properly. The way an Alpha took care of his mate. His mouth pressed against the top of your head, pressing gentle assuring kisses to the crown.

If Steve could have, he would have stayed like that forever, let time stand still cause this was everything he let go of and somehow was given a second chance. You shifted in closer, molding your body to his own while you buried your face in closer, pressing your lips to his collarbone before pulling back to look up at him. “You meant it, all of it?” 

Steve let his gloved hands cup your face, leaning his forehead against yours. “All of it. I know I made a mistake letting you go and I shouldn’t have let my fear win over my common sense.” He swallowed hard, as if he wasn’t sure what to expect but was preparing himself. 

“Come on Alpha, we still have others to save.” You leaned up to press an assuring kiss to him before he let you go, the two of you now racing to find the hostages together, a team.

[luvtonique]

Earlier today, a girl shot me a DM thanking me for not listening to people saying Melodi's body shape is unrealistic or fetishy and choosing to double down on her being a top-heavy P-shaped anorexic lanky long-armed twig lady.

She said, I quote, "I look like that IRL, and have the back problems and eating disorders to prove it. I have gigantomastia and have to get breast reduction surgeries to keep them in check [she described a lot of medical problems that come with the tissue growing too much here, too, but I cut it out cause it's pretty visceral]. I saw your post saying you're not intentionally putting representation in your game [like a year old post at this point] and this isn't about representation, it's just something that made me feel good about myself knowing someone finds my weird body shape attractive."

I told her that she is loved, and thanked her, and said that I hope that she can live a fulfilling and good life despite her disease.

She said "Same to you about your arthritis!" and that was that.

Little moments like that are why I make art and why I don't just do "what sells." I was willing to give up a huge portion of my fanbase by not flocking to Twitter in 2018 and staying here on this weird site full of people who regularly annoy me because it's my fuckin home. I was willing to leave the brony fandom after massive success in it. I am willing to receive hate-reviews from people saying my characters are "too sexualized" or that they "don't have enough identity-representation."

When people come along to tell me that something I'm doing made them happy or feel appreciated and loved, or that I helped make the hard times worth it for them, that's what really matters to me. Not filling quotas, not making characters with relatable social issues, not shoving politics or ideologies into my game to "send a message," but just those moments where the occasional person comes along and thanks me for never caving to social norms and continuing to just do the weird shit I love doing.

I love you, weird body shape girls.

Just because God hit "Random" on your body shape doesn't mean you're ugly, weird, gross or unwanted.

You're bootiful.

Also I just gotta be a snide bitch at the last line because this is Jay we're talking about. "But Jay! You'd get SO MANY MORE people coming to you and thanking you if you PUT SOME REPRESENTATION-QUOTA CHARACTERS IN YOUR GAME TO BAIT THEM OUT, LITERALLY SLAPPING THEM IN JUST TO GET BROWNIE POINTS AND INTERNET HUGS AND ACTING LIKE THAT MAKES YOU A GOOD PERSON."

That shit isn't genuine and your sense of feeling represented by disingenuous ideology-bait is as fake and fleeting as seeing a corporation put up a pride flag on their profile in February. They are using you to sell their product and you're praising them for it. I will never put a character into any work I create with the intention of representing a group of people or an ideological belief, because my characters are fictional storytelling devices, not strawmen who serve as a walking wikipedia article for a culture that the media has deemed an oppressed minority group to talk down to the audience instead of talking to the other characters.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

your art is absolutely amazing

i just went thru all of the poorly drawn mdzs and it was amazing seeing your art develop!

you just made my morning, thabkyou <3

Thank you so much for the kind words, and for cheering me on as I continue to learn!

[myokk]

*Quietly scooches into Asks*

Hi!

I know we don't really know each other.

I usually stay pretty quiet in public spaces. I'm a bit of a lurker🤦🏼‍♀️

But with this new wave of negativity.

I just wanted to come tell you that I adore your art!!!🩵🩵

Seriously, the girlies and I go wild over it!

I LOVE your "Here's a rushed 10 min sketch" posts where you still produce a damn MASTERPEICE!!!

I haven't gotten the chance to read your Fic yet. But it's on my list and I'm excited to get to it and read more about Eloise.🥹

Anyways, I'm babbling now. And I'm literally the worst at expressing any kind of coherent thought. But I just wanted to send you something nice. That's all.

I hope your day gets better✨🩵

Hi🥹🫶🥹🫶

Wahhhhhhhh I’ve been smiling at this message since I got it!!!🫂💓 YOU ARE SO SWEET !!!!!!

I really appreciate everything and I’m so happy you like my little sketches, I had no idea you guys liked them!!!🫂🫂🥹🥹🥹

I hope you like my fic when you get around to it, but no pressure!!💓🫂

As appreciation here’s your Clara!! Drawn in the spirit of your message, here is my 5 min sketch of her!!😆💓 I hope it looks like her🫶

PLUS a link to your fic in case anyone is looking for something new to read💓💓💓 it’s on my tbr as well & I hope I’m blessed with time to get to all of these amazing fics STAT !!!😤💓

[shyghosties]

YOUR LITTLE GHOSTIE IS SO CUTE I JUST WANNA SQUISH ITS CHEEKS

Thank you so much!! They are very squishy!! :•)

[awakenthebeing]

Hii!! I wanted to say that these two pictures remind me So Much of Totoro and Mei, although the mood is very different,, I'm picturing them in other scenes from the movie now and it's making me giggle /pos

What a Fella, so cool <3

Alsooo seeing the recent fake pep drawings and jusg.. how much love he expresses to those around me is making ME feel full of love, it is so sweet :)

NO BUT THAT IS A HUUUUGE COMFORT MOVIE AND WHEN YOU TOLD ME THIS???? I IMMEDIATELY DREW THESE,,,

They're of course!!!! Super heavily referenced images/screenshots from the movie itself and or arts from it!!!! These were very self indulgent but AUGHGHH that movie is such a Comfort!!!!!

[flufflecat]

I met a lovely bumblebee a few days ago (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

[venomroad]

AHHH!! Burgess in your art style has never failed to put the biggest smile on my face!! Every time I see you post him (even Van Augur or Lafitte), it brings a smile!

AAAaaa I'm so glad they doo, I'm hoping to do more ideas for them in the future!🥺🥺Thank you so much!!

[redo-rewind-if]

Hope your dip perishes soon (for you know, the sake of feeling good rather than productivity, life is too short to let productivity be the #1 priority all the time, though I do find it very admirable how well you keep yourself organized)! You talking about it honestly made me think of V just kind of like, stretching out their wrists and putting on reading glasses in a very much, employee down, kind of way. Crafts the most professionally biting email to the rest of their cast that when you come back from break they all better be exactly where they’re supposed to be, doing exactly what they’re supposed to be doing.

Thank you so much for the kind words!! You're absolutely right, productivity is all well and good but your health should come first. (Admittedly, that's a lesson that took me a while to learn haha.)

Also, the picture you paint of V is so spot on I love it! V truly is incredible when it comes to crafting professional but super passive aggressive emails, they so totally would do that. Just *chef's kiss* absolute perfection. 🥺🥰