#I still have a love for drawing round faces lmao

[rainofthetwilight]

repost of a redraw I did of that one nya mural I drew a few months ago! tried to make the design look similar to the old one, but everything else? nope lmao

this was really fun to do tbhh, haven't drawn portraits in a while and this is a good start to try again

here's it compared to the original one btw!

[wishful-sinful-9]

Love the idea that Logan (with his healing factor and adamantium) thinks humans with no mutation are like… extremely fragile. Maybe even thinks they are sickly. When he’s not in a cage match he’s like, very lightly gripping ppls hands in a handshake. Gets very concerned if a human is left out in the elements for too long haha

I agree and I'm going to run with this concept a little bit here lmao

NSFW content

I can imagine he's also never ever considered going out with one because he assumes they'd think he was some sort of animalistic freak.

so when he's at a bar, and this pretty non-mutant girl makes eye contact with him, he thinks oh shit.

he knows he's in trouble when you approach him, flashing him a coy smile and attempting some cliché line that tells him he's not just in trouble, he's in deep shit, because it's obvious you're not very experienced in this department. you flirt, and he half-heartedly tells you, “you don't want to get involved with me, kid.”

“I'm not a kid, and why do you think that, Logan?”

he meets your sparkling eyes, “because I'm a bad man.”

“How bad?”

“very, very bad.”

when you giggle at him he knows it's over.

-

despite your enthusiasm, Logan wants to take it as slow as he can so as to give you as many opportunities to back out as possible. but when you're on your fourth date, having invited him round to watch a movie, and you're giving him this dangerously playful smile every two seconds...

he has you under him in the couch, crying as he grinds his cock into you, his dog tags dangling over your face.

you realise that he's trying to hold back - he's aware of his strength and nature and is afraid he'll hurt you. but your pawing at his biceps moaning for more.

then you do something that makes him stutter in his pace: you yank him down by his tags and give him a searing kiss, biting on his lower lip as you pull away. a little shocked, he blinks down at you as you whimper, “you're not going to break me, I can take it, Lo.”

he hesitates. then he lowers his lips to your ear, “promise you'll tell me to stop if I go too far.”

“I promise, baby.”

And suddenly, he's ramming into you at this toe-curling pace and grunting like an animal. you cum quickly, crying out and coating his cock with your release. but he shows no signs of stopping: tears of overstimulation stream down your cheeks as he reaches down between you, to the creamy mess of your cunt, and spreads the cum drooling out of you up to your clit, where he rubs tight circles. the sounds of him pounding into you and making a bigger mess of your fluids are beyond obscene, it would make you blush hard if you weren't already flushed from the pleasure.

you let him manhandle you into a variation of positions and pull another two orgasms from you until he groans, gripping the armrest above your head, the sudden sound of metal slicing the air making your eyes widen as his claws unsheath while he spills ropes of cum into you.

he pants, drawing them back in and looking down at you.

he's still fully seated inside when he grunts, “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't realise they would-”

“it's okay,” you cut in, “it was hot.”

he blinks at your beaming face.

oh shit indeed.

[eydilily]

I absolutely love your art and how detailed it is! If you don't mind me asking, how do you draw/break down faces? Your style is like exactly what I'm hoping to get close to when I draw them

OKAY so huge disclaimer. im self taught and i dont know what im doing most of the time! frankly i have a long way to go with shape language and character design so i will always suggest people to go to actual professionals and masters LMAO.

i am NOT qualified whatsoever, but, i tried to breakdown my thought process in how i currently draw things!!! for my mcyt designs, obviously i take huge inspirations from the actual ccs.

tango has similar hairlines and beard patterns to cc!tango. joel's hairstyle is very much inspired from his younger hairstyles, and pearl has a similarly long oval headshape from cc!pearl.

all of which are completely personal preference. some people take shape inspiration from personalities, voices, or whatever prophetic visions they have in their heads!

this would be the case for my cleo and etho designs. Cleo to me has a sharper voice & personality so i tried to incorporate that into what id think their face would be! etho is kind of . wet cat, but his voice for some reason gives me... round?? shapes?? so he has floppy hair and rounder eyes and ears in my design.

(another disclaimer: looks does not equate to personality, but like. its a lil easier 2 draw. and theyre shorthands and associations)

^ cleo has a higher eyebrow arch, sharp inner eye corner. etho has ears that stick out, uneven haircut, and his roots are darker :D

so its basically 2 big steps! Picking the face shape and then picking out details that would be unique to that character. to make characters different, i try to always pick something different between each person. so more contrast!!!

pearl and gem are easy since theyre opposites visually -- oval vs square, sharp vs round. for skizz and tango, i draw their eyes very similarly. but i decided my skizz would have a longer face and rounder cheeks, whereas tango has a bushier mustache and flatter face.

i am personally very fond of super stylized artstyles,,, i think cartoony / stylized artstyles take a lot of skill and a lot of character design thought into creating unique silhouettes that are still very recognizable! (for instance, huge fan of @/wasyago and @/alienssstufff)

unfortunately my artstyle isnt geared towards that lol, and alot of my face shapes tend to be very similar. so instead, i try to change up eye shapes (very common method of separating characters) and hairstyles! i have a long long way to go and i have a lot of bad habits lol but i hope this shows a little bit on how each of my characters are detailed differently.

[pure-smut]

Hello, it's me again :3

I want to ask you if you can write about Sako, Togame and Suo's love language.

Maybe both smut and sfw or when it's too much you decide :3

love languages.

featuring: Togame Jo, Hayato Suo

contains: established relationships, mild somnophilia from Togame, cunnilingus, implied multiple rounds, fingering and nipple play

word count: 800

note: all characters are aged up to 21+!

MDNI | 18+ content

masterlist

a/n: ty for this request!! i tried to do Sako but i rly struggled with his character, i think i need to rewatch windbreaker lmao im sorry but i hope you enjoy togame and suo!!

Togame Jo // quality time

Togame’s favourite time of the week is when he gets to spend time with you.

He’s usually busy during the week but he always makes sure to carve out his weekend for you, dedicating his whole time to being with you. It means when he comes home late when you’re already asleep or when he sleeps through most of the day, you don’t mind so much. Because you know at the end of the week, you’ll have him all to yourself.

Togame comes home late on a Friday night but he’s always up before you on a Saturday morning. He wakes you up slowly, taking his time with you as he drags his tongue across your clothed pussy. His grip on your thighs is soft as he nudges your panties to the side, getting his first real taste of you. Your eyes flutter open as his tongue is buried in your cunt, his strong nose bumping against your clit.

“G-Good morning, Jo,” you breathe, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair as you grind back against his face.

Togame hums in response, tongue lapping at your hole. You’re still sleepy, your pleasure building slowly even as Togame deftly eats you out, but neither of you mind. Your weekends always consist of this – of slow, languid sex as Togame spends as much time as possible prolonging your pleasure. He’s never in any rush, knows he has two full days to draw multiple orgasms from you, knows you’ll take as many loads as he gives you.

Togame pulls himself away from between your legs, crawling up to you with a lazy grin on his face. When he kisses you, you can taste yourself on his tongue. Togame lines his throbbing cock up with your entrance. You feel it nudge past your puffy lips, teasingly close.

“You ready for me, sweetheart?” Togame asks, smile still playing on his lips.

You know he doesn’t mean just now. He means for the whole weekend. By the time Sunday evening comes around, you both know you’ll be a limp, breathless mess, a familiar ache between your legs as Togame’s cum paints your body.

And you’ll both treasure every second.

“I’m ready,” you whisper back as Togame sinks himself inside you.

Hayato Suo // acts of service

Suo knows you’ve had a long day. You dragged yourself through the door of your shared apartment and sat down with a huff on the couch next to him. So, without asking, Suo’s made you a cup of your favourite tea and brought your favourite snack over. He places them both on the coffee table before sitting back down with a smile.

“Thank you.” You press a grateful kiss against his cheek. “You’re the best.”

Suo hums happily and pulls you towards him.

“Only the best for you,” he replies.

Your couch is large and L-shaped so Suo sits in the corner section, his legs outstretched before him as he manoeuvres you to sit between his legs. You do so, feeling your back flush to his chest as you lean back against him. He’s solid and warm behind you and you already feel your sore muscles loosen slightly.

“That’s it,” Suo whispers soothingly in your ear. “Let me help you relax.”

Suo presses featherlight kisses against the crook of your neck as his hands run up the sides of your arms. You close your eyes and tilt your head back against his shoulder, melting into him.

Suo loves doing this for you. Loves taking care of you with little regard for himself, although he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying touching you like this.

He uses his knees to hook under your legs, spreading them for him. His hand travels over your stomach and down under the waistband of your shorts while the other slides under your top to cup one of your tits.

You moan lightly, reaching up behind you to card your fingers through the hair at the nape of Suo’s neck. He keeps up the gentle kisses against the skin just under your ear as he tweaks one of your nipples, making a jolt of pleasure surge through you. His other hand uses your slick to trace frictionless circles against your clit.

You have the urge to turn around, you return the favour to Suo but you know from experience he won’t let you. For Suo, this is the same as making you tea or planning your dates – he wants to serve you.

So you relax back into him, letting Suo slide his long fingers between your folds as he buries them inside you. You moan and tighten your grip on his hair as he fingers you, finding the sensitive spot inside you that has you gushing down his palm.

Because you know this is how Suo shows you how much he loves you.

masterlist

Support me on Ko-Fi! ♡

[httpiastri]

beautiful – op81

genre: sweet sweet smut

pairing: female reader x oscar piastri

warnings: wellll it's smut so..... not much else, it's pretty soft so nothing rlly in need of a warning i think. almost a liiittle praise kink hiding in there but not exactly a warning ahah

requested?: um no not really BUT this ask from when this blog was still new has been on my mind ever since i got it....

author's note: this fic is basically just me calling oscar beautiful a thousand times..... second time ever writing smut and it's just as weird as the first time lmao! but i did enjoy writing it. this is protected sex because !! don't forget to be safe when yall have sex !!! and consent is sexy. hope you enjoy this <3 (and again, it's 5am so yes it was proofread but i probably missed something... soz)

f1 masterlist

18+ content below! minors, do not interact!! thanks

oscar is always beautiful.

when he stood on the podium yesterday, for the first time in his formula one career, he was gorgeous. when he came down to hug his family, you included, the smile on his lips was irresistible. and when he danced with you in some random club, his features reminded you of the ones of a god.

he had been teasing you all night. the fleeting touches and quick kisses he gave you held a promise; you would be back in your hotel room soon, just you and him, and he would take good care of you.

you had helped each other get undressed, drunken giggles shared between you as it had taken him a few moments to figure out the zipper of your dress. but the exact moment his head had hit the pillows, he had been out like a light. you swore you had only turned away for a second to take off your earrings, but when you had looked back at him, he had already been snoring.

even then, he was beautiful. but the maybe one moment you enjoy watching him the most is times like these. when the rays of the soft morning sun light up his features, his face basking in the rays. his chest rises and sinks in a steady rhythm, mouth barely open as he takes his sleepy breaths. with his messy, long fringe spread over his forehead, strands of hair tickling his round cheeks.

when he looks so pure, innocent, untouched, like he’s never had a worry in his entire life. so far away in dreamland, this world long forgotten.

but he loves coming back to this world. dreaming is nice, but when he opens his eyes and they land on the beautiful angel next to him, he feels like he has stepped into yet another dream.

his arms are draped around your waist, keeping you close as one of your hands land on his cheek. you smile when his eyes flutter closed again. “morning,” you hum, letting your thumb stroke across his skin. your finger follows his birth marks, the ones you could draw out blindfolded, the ones you know like the constellations you memorized in fifth grade.

oscar is always beautiful, but like this, he's perfect.

he doesn't answer, instead opting to trail one of his hands along the side of your body. the hand finds the hem of your thin shirt and dips inside it, letting the tips of his fingers swipe up and down your skin, against the sensitive area right below your chest, further down to your hips. he notices now that you aren't wearing any underwear, and the realization brings a grin to his lips.

he leans forward to press a kiss to your cheek as he drags his thumb along the inside of your thigh. his mouth moves down to your neck, trailing pecks and licks and bites on it's journey across your body. no piece of skin remains untouched or unkissed; oscar would kiss every inch of your soul if he could.

his head ducks under the blanket to reach your stomach, his hand coming up to push your hip softly. you take the hint and lie down fully on your back, a low sigh leaving your lips as he climbs on top of you. he's still hiding under the blanket so you're surprised when his lips meet the front of your thigh, your legs squeezing together in reaction. his voice is raspy when it leaves his throat, vocal cords still cold after a long night's sleep. "i want to taste you. open up, please."

your legs fall open easily; you're always open to letting oscar do what he wants. a jolt of electricity shoots through your body as he presses his lips to your clit. one of your hands come down to rake through his hair as his tongue drags along your folds and you feel way too sensitive already. his name falls from your lips when he starts sucking on your clit, but it's the feeling of his fingers entering you that takes over your mind completely. you can't think of anything other than how his digits are pumping you, how his tongue works wonders against you, and how you're so close already.

your hand in his hair tightens when you reach your high, your legs shaking and your heart hammering in your chest. he lets you try to catch your breath for a few moments, but then he pulls the covers down his body, appearing from below them as if in a round of peek-a-boo. even as you're breathless, coming down from an orgasm after being eaten out, you somehow have the energy to laugh at your lover. he's so dorky, so darling,

so beautiful.

even when his hair is a mess, even when he's newly awake, even with traces of you on his lips.

the hand leaves his hair, coming down to cup his cheek and pull him up towards your face. he hovers above you, bringing his fingers up to let his tongue clean them from your juices. you usher him down to you, desperate to let your lips meet his for the first time in so many hours. when his lips finally lock with yours, a pleasured sound escapes your mouth. you don't even mind the taste of yourself on his lips, because the taste of him takes over, flooding your senses.

it's hungry, but not at all rushed; it's sensual in a way that only mornings with him can be.

oscar doesn't break the kiss when his hand rummages over the bedside table, desperately searching for something. he lets out a frustrated groan when he has to pull away because he can't find it, and you giggle at the sound. in just a moment, he has leaned back down to capture your lips again, this time with a condom in his hand. he wants, needs, to be connected to you constantly, so his lips are still attached to yours as he pulls off the wrapper and rolls the condom down his length. he positions himself by your entrance and unwillingly pulls away. "are you okay with this?" he asks, letting one hand hold your waist as the other smooths down your arm. when it reaches your hand, he takes it in his, intertwining his fingers with yours.

you nod, giving his hand a squeeze. "it's more than okay."

he pushes into you and your eyes roll back as your hand squeezes his again, this time involuntarily. he fills you up to the brim, a perfect fit; the stretch is just right, not too much and not too little. he gives you some time to get used to it before he starts to move, the strength in his thrusts rising bit for bit. a moan escapes your mouth when he hits one specific spot and he grins, leaning down to press his lips right below your ear. "my sweet girl," he whispers, tracing his kisses down the side of your neck.

his thumb strokes against the back of your hand as his other hand moves down between your legs. two of his fingers come to rub your clit as he continues pushing into you. "oscar..." you sigh, instantly becoming overwhelmed with the sensations. "it's... god, it's too much..."

he slows his actions, though he doesn't entirely stop, as he speaks up. "i know you can take it." he pulls his head away from your neck to look at you, and-

oscar thinks you look so beautiful.

with your hair splayed over your pillow, with your flushed cheeks, with your rosy lips slightly parted and gasping for air as you chase your high. he can't think of anything more perfect than you, and sharing this moment with you is a true blessing to him.

your breath grows heavier as you get closer, and you hang your free arm around his neck, helping him kiss you yet again. he swallows your sweet sounds that become more frequent as you approach your climax, picking up the speed of his fingers again. "that's my girl," he mumbles against your lips. "taking me so well... you're so good."

your sweet noises fill the room as you both come undone together, bodies vibrating against each other's as he rides out your highs. he collapses right next to you, one hand still holding onto your hand as the other drags you into his side. you both take a few moments to breathe, before oscar pushes a few strands of hair away behind your ear. he can't help but smile again. "you're beautiful."

"so are you."

[louloulemons-posts]

Missing You

Eddie Munson X Fem!Reader

Summary : Eddie misses his favourite girl.

Word count : 0.7k

Warnings : Toothrotting fluff, Eddie being clingy, pet names, minor mention of sex, minor angst if you squint, a kiss, reader calls Eddie Edward lmao, fluff fluff fluff.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“See you later Wayne,” Eddie shouted out to his uncle as he headed off to his night shift. He heard the older man speaking to his favourite girl as he went.

“Hey Wayne,” said her sweet voice.

“Hiya Sweetheart, you have a good night okay.”

“You too, don’t work too hard.” Wayne’s soft laugh echoed through lightly and he heard the front door shut again.

Sliding her shoes off and putting her bag down on the couch, she called out for her boy, “Eddie.”

“In here baby.” Soon enough his bedroom door was pushed open and there stood his love.

“Hey pretty girl,” he smiled softly, she was slightly disheveled, hairs sticking out wildly, but still so beautiful. “Whatcha working on?” she motioned to the guitar on his lap. “Just trying to figure out this piece, but it doesn’t matter, come to me.”

He placed the red guitar on the bed next to him, and held out his hands to her. Walking into his space he rested his head on her stomach, wrapping his arms around.

“How was work?” he mumbled.

“Same old, Saturday shift so busy,” she smiled, running her hands through his curls. “Missed you,” he spoke gently.

“You okay?”

“Can’t I miss you?”

“No you can, just wondering. Let me get changed and we can cuddle okay?”

He whined as she pulled herself from his hold. “The sooner I get changed the sooner you can have me back,” instantly he let her go, so fast that she stumbled slightly. “Jesus babe,” she laughed.

Taking her clothes out of her designated draw, Y/N spoke, “What do you want to do tonight? Steve and Robs are heading to the movies after work, we could join them?”

“I thought we could stay here, hang out.”

Popping her head through the shirt she cocked her brow, “Okay what’s up with you?”

“Nothing!”

“Edward,” she sighed, walking back over to him, now in sweats and an old tee, “baby what’s up?”

Taking his face in her hand she met his beautiful chocolate eyes, like a baby cow she’d tease. “I just miss you.”

“Eddie I’m right here. We see each other nearly every day. At school, we hang after school, I come here.”

“But it’s never just us anymore! It’s us and other people : Dustin, Gareth, Robin, Wayne, god damn babe, even Steve Harrington,” he exclaimed, flailing his hands dramatically.

“Are you trying to tell me you’re horny?” and asked, softly rubbing her thumbs on his cheeks, “Babe we can fix that.”

“No! It’s not that, I mean I love doing that, but I just want you .. just us, to spend time together. I miss you,” he closed his eyes, embarrassed by the outburst.

Gently she sat down on his lap, legs wrapping round his waist, pulling his head to rest in her neck. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“What? Eddie no! You have nothing to be sorry for. I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than lay in bed and cuddle with you.”

“Really?” he asked, coming out of her neck to look at her face. Nodding, smiling slightly, “Really, I love spending time with you Eds, you’re my favourite person. Honestly I’ve been missing you too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I feel like with work, and school and friends. We’ve been seeing each other but we’re not really SEEING each other, you know?” she explained.

“Exactly! I just miss us.”

“Hey, you listen to me Edward Munson, we are still us, we just need to be us in private rather than with other people. I have an idea,” she said, as he gently played with the hem of her shirt. “Hm?”

“I’m gonna go call Robs, get her to cover for me, then I’m gonna call my mom and tell her I’m with Robin.”

“Why would you do that?” he asked as she stood up from his lap. “Because we are having a sleepover, and tomorrow we’re gonna hang out all day, and you’ll be so sick of me!” she grinned, kissing his cheek.

Turning around to run to the phone, she was pulled back by Eddie who stood up. Taking her face in his hands he kissed her softly, “I love you so much my sweet girl.”

“I love you Eddie Munson. Now put your guitar away, I’m you to be ready for cuddles when I’m back.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Thank you so much for reading, feel free to leave any requests 🤍

[red-doll-face]

Snow Angel 10

Chapter 10: adamant Series Masterlist

low - medium honor Arthur Morgan x fem. Reader

Arthur has been living by himself, laying low (for real this time) somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. After the whole Pinkerton and Micah debacle, he has been hiding away, waiting for it all to blow over, occasionally getting letters from the people who still know that he’s alive. He’s been alone awhile and at first, he thought he could handle a little loneliness. He has been wrong before. Lucky for him, you look like the perfect thing to break up the monotony.

Warnings: depictions of a panic attack. PLEASE AVOID if that would end up harming you i beg !!! dubious consent, arthur’s mental health is kind of not so good…VERY low honor Arthur, darkish fic, a bit of naive reader. Reader has dated and period typical ideals, not very good ideas about men and marriage… if you want reader to be strong and a fighter… this is not for you sorry. suggestive themes. I am being serious when I say that arthur is bad at handling this situation. he does not think he has done anything wrong. if youve been reading so far you know that that is BAD. please do not read if you can't handle it, im putting a giant RED FLAG on this WC: 4753 SNOW ANGEL DROP TN??? everybody say thank you to @emerald-ranch CHAPTER 10 !!! we did it !! it took me a while to churn this out and get it to a place that i liked. im still not even sure i like it LMAO thank you for all of the lovely little niche questions i get about my strange snow angel arthur, he is everything to me and i love to speak him into existence. first time writing angst soooo Tags: lots of angst todayyy, no TB, weird but not that toxic relationship, Arthur being a menace.Arthur being rude as always just… low honor arthur as a warning lol You and Arthur clear the air.

“Caught me a little bunny, pretty one too,” you can feel his excitement behind the fabric of his pants, his belt digging into you uncomfortably. Arthur’s features, although covered in shadows from the dusk drawing in, still reflect his anticipation. He takes his hat off, his hand drags his hair back, damp with sweat, darker than the usual lighter brown. Some of it still flops over into his face anyway. 

Your hands push at his shoulders weakly, whining as he dips down to kiss you, the warmth of his breath fanning over the roundness of your cheek, you can feel the scrape of his stubbly hair on your face, the dimple at the tip of his nose brush over you. 

“Arthur, please, I just- I wanna go home, you won, you got me,” he hums, running his tongue over your neck, his arms prop his body up over yours, keeping you warm in the cold chill. He covers you well enough, shields you from the winter with his frame, wide and heavyset. You can feel the rumble in him when he says ‘you’re damn right, I did,’.

The sky is a pretty shade of purple, a little like lavender. You look up, feeling his body tilt to one side, held up on his elbow, his other takes the opportunity to roam over your body. “We can go to our home, Arthur,” you try to pull at his desires, but he won’t have any of it. 

“Wanna see my prize first,” he says between puffs of air, his tongue pacing over the delicate skin of your neck. His hands tug your skirt upwards while you try and keep your legs closed. His hands grip the fat of your thigh, dipping under the dainty fabric of your stocking. Between his legs is the rather stiff press of him and his arousal. You don’t like how easy it is for your body to respond to just the notion of him taking you like this, like an animal.

His rough fingertips skim over the mark he left on you, the one your mother saw. 

“All you had to do was say you liked it. I know you did. You like everything I do,”

“I-No, I…I couldn’t-” You couldn't make it stop. Couldn't make your body stop reacting to him is what you want to say. But to say so would admit that some part of you liked what he did. You snap your mouth shut like a coin purse. You can’t bring yourself to say such a thing. Not that his ideas deserve to be validated. He gives you a knowing look which sends a tremor down your spine, your legs shifting nervously. 

“Quit your lying’, girl, you ain’t fooled me yet. Shouldn’t be ashamed, sugar; I might be a bastard but I ain’t the worst thing coulda happened to ya,”

“I’m not trying to…I told her not to say anything,” you whine and push again at his shoulders but he doesn’t budge. 

“Mhm, how come I don’t believe that for a second,”

Either way, he drops his mouth to your neck, sucks another painful mark just under your ear, the sensitive skin tingles with sensation, pulling pain from your nerves. You tilt your face away, you can’t get him to stop. You can hear the wetness of his tongue moistening your skin before he's sucking a deep red mark, which will be another bruise on your skin. You pull at his hair, but you’re held down just as easily while he nips away.

Your back arches, your skin tingles. A lewd whimper is all you have to offer, keening for him. The quiver inside you isn’t mindful at all. Pure reaction, pleasure rising to the surface. 

 He gives you more than one this time, leaving them at his leisure. He's ripping your blouse open next, so he can leave more on your breasts. The soft flesh is alight with nerves, rippling desire through you. 

“Think you’re starting to like it, angel,” you still your body, disconnected from its actions, which until then was moaning, clutching his shoulder for dear life. The tide of your emotions rises higher though, ice cold water crashing down on the pleasant warmth gathering on your lower belly.

Like you’ve stepped in front of a wagon train, the panic sets in, more than any other time before now. A shameful part of you; an awful desire that burns for Arthur somewhere inside of you, wants him to keep going. To make good on all of his promises. But it’s too difficult to indulge that part of you. The shock of what happened in your family’s home is too much. It drops on your head like an anvil or a blacksmith's hammer. You’re entirely too aware of how your father’s blood dripped over his own fingers. Your mother crumpled to the ground as she watched Arthur take you away. 

“I don’t-don’t want to do this right now, please,” It’s maybe the first time you cry at his insistence. And the first time you’ve been utterly clear about what you do and don’t want. In the most explicit terms possible. You feel the tears well up in your eyes. You cried like this when he first told you what he wanted. They drip down the sides of your face. You hadn’t been able to stop him on the first night. And after he made you all too aware of how things work between a man and a woman, you hadn’t tried to, overwhelmed with how good he was at dragging pleasure out of you. But now, it’s like the world has come closing in and there’s nothing that can stop it from swallowing you whole. Not after what he did, simply because your father thought to stop him from taking his only daughter away. 

Your breathing comes far too quick. Your head feels like it's full of air and it begins to hurt. The cold stings your finger tips. You have no regard as to what your face looks like, letting it bunch up in what is probably an unsightly expression of your reactive sobbing.

“Hey, hey, I-” He’s no longer using that husky tone with which he usually addresses you when he gets like this. It’s trying to be soothing but a certain panic underlines his words. You can see him take his hands off of you, as if he’s burning you with every touch. But he still keeps you underneath some of his weight, his mouth opens as if to say something else, furrowed brows 

“Get off…Get off me,” you push at his shoulders and at first he doesn't move an inch. When you don’t immediately feel his weight move from pinning you down, your sobbing becomes volatile. Struggling to breath through your tears and your desperate wails, you inhale faster but it still feels like it's not enough. Thrashing mindlessly at him, uncaring of his anger or his punishments, is what makes him ease off of you a little. 

“Woah, easy,” he tugs your skirt down, shielding you from the cold as much as he can without touching you but you can’t stop yourself from being consumed by the physical reaction your shock evokes from you, wrenched from you. Like a child and their toys infected with scarlet fever. 

His soothing does work a little, now that you know he’s stopping, that he’s covered your legs. You sniff and writhe, your fingers grip at his upper arms. You can finally blink through your tears to see his expression, worry clouded with something you’ve never quite seen. The pull of his mouth tugs towards a guilt he’s never shown you before. 

You’re starting to breathe way too much, all of the air makes you dizzy and the cold still burns your lungs but you don’t care, letting the pain ground you. Your arms wrap around yourself to cover your breasts, trying to fix your ruined shirt to no avail. The frustrated fumbling of your fingers has Arthur softening more, but his voice still intonates with his natural authority.

“Sweetheart, you need to slow down. Jus’ breathe, you’ll be alright,” his commanding voice controls you more than you thought it would. He sits back on his haunches, hoping the distance might do you some good, crowding you isn’t in his best interest. You gasp for air, sitting up a little with the space he’s afforded you.

Arthur comes closer to calm you when he notices you can’t seem to do it all on your own. He’s slow, shushing you, his hand pets your hair, down behind your ear, to the side of your neck. He keeps his eyes low, the warmth of his hand helps you a little, so does his own rhythmic breathing, slow and steady.

He doesn’t say much for a minute or two, a ‘that’s my girl,’ tingles your ear, warms you up. You sigh, trying to regulate your breathing, appreciating his help but still feeling frightened and confused. Especially when you consider that he is the source of all your troubles. Arthur is close enough so you feel body heat, his fingers brush your tears away. Sweet in this gentle moment. How could you stand to take comfort from a man who shot your father? Who could have missed, who could have killed him? As always, you doubt that you’re right in the head. Something must be broken within you.

It’s hardwired though. Arthur is all you have left now. The only one here with you.

He doesn’t seem excited in the same way he was before. The adrenaline from his chase dies in your blood, leaving behind the residue of stress, a headache forming. The pace of your heart does slow down now, the puff of the air in your lungs. He watches you with an odd expression. Glad that you’ve calmed down but still disappointed. Perhaps with you, having ruined his plan of taking you, of spreading your legs in the snow, burying himself inside of you. If things hadn’t gone so wrong today, you might have let him.

The thought makes more shameful tears drip down your face. Despite any calm summoned from you, you still feel the curl of disgrace, laying in your tattered shirt underneath this man, shrinking away from his stare.

“What's wrong? Did I hurt you?” You can at least appreciate that he is worried about you, even if he has no clue why. You can see a fear in his eyes that he tries to hide from you, a fear that he’s caused you real pain. At least you know now that if you had done more screaming and crying, he might have stopped that day. You didn't think him to be so thick as to not understand why you are as emotional in this moment as you are. 

“Arthur, no, no, I just- I don’t want- I want to go home…now,” You had wanted to come away from this moment, maybe just a bit touched at how he had helped you through your foolish hysterics. But as always, some part of Arthur balances it out. 

“Just tell me why you was cryin’. I know that ain’t all of it,” He narrows his eyes. Your jaw drops, unable to hide your outrage. Your anger, which you keep in check most of the time, pushes at the lid of the pot you stuff it in. Every single grain of it threatens to spill out. Your fingers scrunch, your face does too. 

“Shooting my father and then hunting me like an animal; pushing me in the dirt for- for your desires- that’s not enough?” You realize now that dusk is here and it’s colder in this dark valley than it was before. You move to stand, he’s upright before you and he does try to help but you refuse him. Unfortunately, your anger hasn’t been honed into a point sharp enough to cut. It’s only wet and girlish, it makes you cry and tremble, your throat thickens unpleasantly.

“You did what you wanted with me, like you always do. But my family… I never wanted-” You wobble onto your feet, closing his coat in front of your chest. You should never have indulged him. You should have bitten and chewed and snarled and spat until he left you alone. 

You aren't sure why you didn't. You suppose it felt nice to have a man notice you, to call you pretty. To want you in some way other than to just ignore or to leer at disgustingly like the lonely trappers at the trading post, even when they were friends of your father. How pathetic of you. 

Yet, nothing about what he did felt disgusting. It was the expectation on you as a woman to reserve these affections for marriage that lashed against the inside of your ribcage. That whispered that it was wrong; it was anything but the pure and gentle lessons you received as a girl. Opening your legs so willingly for a man because he called you pretty, called you all sorts of saccharine praises, was tearing away at you. You hadn't fought him harder and at first you thought it was because there was no point, that he was too strong anyway so why waste the energy? But now, you aren't so sure of that resolve. 

He was handsome in his own way and he didn’t seem like all the boys your mother told you to keep an eye on in case you should marry one day. Lanky and thin, sparse hairs on their chins which they stroked like great beards. He wasn’t a drunken fool or witless boy.

Arthur was a man. He acted like one, he smelled like one, looked like one. He wasn’t afraid to muck stalls, to cook. And he acted like you were married already, like you loved him and he loved you. Perhaps you liked the idea of having a man such as him, a man who didn’t need you to replace his mother’s duties, a man who wanted you to simply be with him. And those glittering moments where you played house with him, sat on his lap and let him kiss you. You could have stayed with him there forever, buried in the snow. You would have been happy if spring’s thaw never came. But now, he stands, with an almost resentful look at your accusatory tone.

Everything has dissolved into a coagulated mess, like spoiled milk. 

“I do what I want with you? The hell does that mean?” He’s more upset now, at the insinuating circumstances. 

“Arthur,” you recoil at the anger in his voice. You don’t even know what you meant particularly but Arthur fishes a meaning out from your words, even if you hadn’t put too much stock into your own words. 

“You’re sayin’ that I violated you, is that it?” his hands rest on his hips as he moves to keep staring you in the eye, you’ve never seen him like this before. Really angry. 

“I didn’t ask to do that with you, I told you to…” It’s like he can sense how noncommittal you are with your own sentiments. Your own certainty doesn't linger with you. As much as you would like it too. He sniffs it out like a bloodhound, throwing the truth in your face. 

“You know what I think? I think- fact, I know. You’re one of those gently reared girls, think they’re better than this, above any of this low down ruttin’ us sinners do. You can’t even say it, can you? All that we got up to. That’s called fuckin’ , sweetheart,” The word curls into his vicious smile. You’re scandalized, can feel how your hands pull his coat even tighter. You don’t think you’ve heard anyone talk like that to you. It’s a dirty word but you suppose that is what it felt like to be with him. Dirty. But that rush, you can’t deny that. The one that shoots up your spine when you remember how it made you feel. 

 “Can’t say you ain’t like it, can’t say you did; and I get it. Ain’t the first time I met a girl like you. But you can’t lie to me,” 

You ignore the hind-brain jealousy that pokes your mind. His words are truer than you want them to be. You said stop once or twice, although you can’t recall too well about things you said. Instead, you told him you belonged to him. You had meant to endear yourself to him. It worked far more than you wanted it to. 

Pretending like you didn’t want him to do what he did protected your own self important image as your father and mother preferred you, not how things really were. And now that you don’t have them anymore, what use was that image? You try to cling to the truth of your old life, crumbling to pieces around you. 

“It’s not just about that. I…I didn’t say yes…I thought you would hurt me, you told me you didn’t want me to fuss. When you told me I had to stay…” you stun him, he seems like he hardly remembers doing that. In that low voice, his startling command. It scared you to the bone then, but it did shake something awake. You had never felt so wanted in your life as that day. Both of you are some type of wrong, you think. Maybe he recognized the same kind of wrong in you.

Carefully, he mulls over what you said. It affects him, you can see how that same guilt settles in the creases of his face. It roots around his eyes, the harsh lines soften. How his boots scuff against the ground. One of his hands scratches at his beard. But all too soon, it’s gone and a resolve hardens on his face, like he’s dashed the guilt away. Made room for something else. 

“Am I just supposed to believe you was lyin’ when you said you liked it? I don’t make you talk, darlin’. You might be pretty as a doll,” He looks over your features, over your hair and your pouting lip. “But you ain’t no string puppet. Wouldn’t hurt you, honey, not like that, not how you’re meanin’. It’d do you some good to remember that ain’t true ‘bout most anybody else,” He lets his body naturally intimidate yours, looking down his nose at you.

You don’t know how he can have such a prideful stare. Like he knows he’s right. He pushes the memory of your father, kneeling and gripping his wound to the front of your mind. 

“You didn’t have to shoot him. Heaven forbid my father from trying to protect me from you. Wouldn’t be the first time a father tried to keep his daughter from marrying you. Arthur, why exactly is it your first instinct to go waving a gun around when something goes wrong? I don’t understand what drives someone to do the things you do,” He chuckles darkly, as if you told a morose joke at a funeral. He does let a quiet frustration come over him, a glare gets leveled at you. But he holds himself tightly in his own restraint. Your retaliation against him; he treats it as a minor slight. You cross your arms while he brushes it off. All too good at letting insults slide off his back.

“That makes the two of us. I ain’t been a good man most my life and I ain’t sure I’ll ever be any good at it. I try to be good to you, I do, but maybe it ain’t enough. That’s just fine with me,” He steps closer to you, sensing your shock at his words. He’s back to that prowling wolf from before. His demeanor changes on a dime. He bends at the waist to grab his gloves and hat, dusting the bottom of the brim casually against his coat before placing it back on his head. His gloves are shoved haphazardly in his pocket. “I don’t know if I need that from you, some fairytale love story, where your Pa hands you over to me and I bring you up to the altar dressed like a government boy,” You’re almost afraid of him, how he carries himself. There's a dread hanging in the air around him, a foreboding poke in the back of your head. 

“Used to be an outlaw, around New Austin, Heartlands, all over…” you look at the cold look in his eyes. Colder than the snow that dusts the ground. Frozen stiff like a corpse, but you tremble anyway. He shifts his legs, widening his stance and placing one hand on his belt, next to the shiny revolver. “I’ve killed people, robbed them, or both…done things I wasn’t always proud of. I ain’t too proud of what I done with you neither. Tellin’ you that is…just about as good as bein’ married. Can’t let ya go wanderin’ off knowin’ the truth, now,” Arthur raises his arms in something like a shrug. The nonchalant air about him has that wet anger rising in your throat again.

“You ain’t goin’ back home. Least the home you had. Me puttin’ a bullet in your Pa don’t change that. I’d advise you to make your peace with the fact. I keep havin’ to tell you. I hate repeatin’ myself,” You continue to stare, eyes wide with the realization of his truth. An outlaw. You must be the most unfortunate girl in the state. To walk into the home of a killer. Your thoughts trail back to how he disposed of the body of the man who had tried to rob you. The cold and careless manner of dealing with death was telling then. It screams at you now.

“I-I’m not some belonging for you to collect, for you to hang on your wall. To put up on top of your fireplace, Arthur,”

“No, you’re much more than that,” You aren’t completely sure of his meaning. But it’s something that entails you being with him how he wills it. No better than being chained to his bed, really. He nears you and you do take a wary step backward, a little afraid of the neutrality on his features. He schools his reactions, tells you of his past with no remorse. 

“If you care for me, care for me at all, wouldn’t you- wouldn't you let me go?” you ask but you know his answer, when he finally closes in on you, drags one finger down the curve, the roundness of your cheek. His thumb rests on your lips, his other fingers curl around to almost the nape of your neck. His hand makes you feel entirely too small in his hold. Guides you to look up at him, as your fingers clutch the fur of his coat tightly around you. 

“See, that’s the problem right there,” he has a strange twist to his voice, a light lilt while he smirks down at you, the darkness dipping the shadows across his face into an even darker tone. “I care about you too much. Maybe it ain’t right, can’t say I give a damn either way,” the fragility of this moment isn’t broken until he puts a kiss on your lips that’s a thousand times lighter than the precarious air of this conversation. But you should have known being so restrained isn’t permanent with Arthur. 

A strong hand closes on your hip, drags you into the front of him. His breath quickens, it flatters you how much he likes you so near to him. Your hip aches pleasantly as he squeezes it. Your heart swells, you wish you could will yourself into rejecting him.

“Tell me you don’t want me, honey. Tell me to leave you alone…” You’re stiff as an iron rod when he pulls you to him. You brace yourself on him, hands compelled naturally to lay flat on his chest. Something about the full form of his body is so pleasing to you, the breadth of him against you. The warmth you feel and the strength lying in wait. The smell of him, leather and hide, tobacco and mint. It closes you in. You open your mouth to say something. Anything. 

“Arthur, that’s not fair,” you whine. Your anger might have caused you to lash out at him for once. But you’re back to the docile thing he liked to chase around, too occupied with his body so close to yours to realize that you’ve dropped all pretense of that strong front, that you haven’t answered his question. You wish you could continue being the kind of person who could tell someone like Arthur what he's asking. Strong willed, not so swayed. But you’re moved in the opposite direction by whatever is inside of you, some deep buried want of yours. And the constant tone of knowing that he’s bigger and stronger than you. It’s always there, rain pattering on the roof in autumn. He had no trouble chasing after you like this, in the encroaching dusk. It was more a game than any real challenge.

“Just say it, you keep tryin’ to, don’t ya?” you look away. Why can’t you say it? When he’s inviting you to rebuff him. You look up at him. A knot gets tangled in your insides. Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth. What is wrong with you?

“You can’t cause you don’t mean it, not when this little pussy gets wet when I touch you, when you kiss me back. You don’t remember when you was touchin’ all over me? Those kisses you put on me?” he teases you, a more smug exhale is what you get. The night weighs on your shoulders like a heavy blanket and so does his reality check. He has a sigh and a faint groan, as if thinking of all that you’ve done with him in the privacy of his home. 

You think to defy him, to spite his words but you can’t when he gives you another kiss. The dryness he licks away. This one is a wet sloppy mess, it doesn’t last long but he’s as right as he knew he was, you melt into it, grab onto him, tilt so he can kiss you deeper. His teeth nip at your soft lips, his tongue rubs over yours. A warm shame fills your belly and crawls up your face. You can’t bring yourself to hate his stupid smug lovesick look, the way he rubs the scar on his chin as he pulls away.

“You like me, don’t you, sweetheart?” He’s mocking you now, he knows the answer just as well as you do but he likes to feel like he’s wrenching it out of you. He’s caught you and he’s holding you up by the ears while you dangle uselessly; a rabbit caught in the hunt. You stare up at him, caught in his pretty blue eyes, the little nicked scar on his nose bridge. You have a very reluctant almost imperceptible nod. Despite the raging heat in you at such an admittance. You like the man who locked you in his home, who wants you to marry him while hardly knowing him, who used to be an outlaw. 

“Even after I shot your daddy? You’re somethin’ else, girl,” he revels in your reaction but with his own version of pity, an endeared expression at your warbling chin and heavy sniff.

A bad feeling curdles in your belly, you bite your lip. You shouldn’t do this. How could you ever do this to your family? Turn your back on them like this? But you didn’t see another choice. Tears bead on your lash line. He has to rub his inevitable victory in your face. You don’t know how you’re going to continue. How you can even stand the sight of Arthur: of yourself. Now that he’s twisted everything out of shape to suit his needs. You should spit on him. Curse him until he gets struck down by the powers that be. 

But you don’t. You aren't sure there’s any end to that. You hope to never repeat this cycle again. Where you try to pull against his control and he overpowers, strong-arming you into doing as he pleases. He gathers your tears, brushes them away. Rough calluses over the little sensory hairs on your skin. 

“C’mon, sweet thing, it’s time you get what ya want, huh? Time to go home.” 

UGH this arthur gets on my fucking nerves but i am so weak for him i hate his corny ass. god dark arthur is just too much for me lmaooo feedback is more than appreciated, please let me know your thoughts im begging wahhhhh

[mrsoharaa]

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝑴𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒄 𝑰𝒏 𝑹𝒂𝒊𝒏!

characters: Miguel O'hara x Reader

cw; none! all fluff! rainy cuteness! (I honestly think about this type of scenario allll the time ♡)

a/n; couldn't stop thinking about this so I decided to write it! ..... at 2 in the morning LMAO! Miggy my beloved, you are sooo loved! (✿ ʃƪ ˘ ³ ˘) ♡ (another impeccablyyy self indulgent piece for my soul ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა)

since it's raining ever so gently and lovingly where I live rn I'm just thinking about reader happily twirling in the gentle pattering rain, arms stretched out, head tilted back to welcome the cooling droplets of the skies natural, tranquil gift cascading across their blissful face. A lulled delicate hum of delight rumbles from their chest, enjoying the cooling bits of the tittering rain caress the tender of their flesh. Basking in nature's soul cleansing refreshness.

Lost in their own little world, drowning in the pure delight and awe of the descending liquid seeping into their skin.

All while Miguel just crosses his arms and leans against the foot of your apartment front door, brows risen and a confused gaze hinting in such soft carmine irises.

"What are you doing? you're going to get sick, entra" he watches you smile wider, simply enjoying the blissful, peaceful moment of embracing natures purity. You stop momentarily in your tracks, now facing towards your looming boyfriend who was still wearing such a cynical expression. You giggle giddily, feeling the collecting moisture from the ground recoil over your bare feet.

"Come join me Miggy! it's so refreshing and freeing!" you chime with a perched smile, arms stretched out towards your skeptical partner. He scoffs, eliciting a eye roll.

"It won't be so refreshing when you get a cold the next morning, now come, before I have to go over there and throw you over my shoulders" he insists.

"Please! just...humor me Migs! I promise after one twirl, I'll come inside with you!" you swirl your arms a bit, flaunting him those wide, glimmering pretty doe eyes of yours, the very ones he could never refuse from you, with a beaming smile.

He groans inwardly, hesitating on his questionable decision but kicks himself out from the frame of your door. Slightly tenses up from the sudden change of temperature clouding over his stocky warm body, soften water droplets permeating through the waves of his beautiful cocoa locks to the comforting fabric of his clothes. Leaving little, to no room, for the wandering imagination.

He huffs out heavily, standing just a few inches before you, brows perking higher as he watches you gleam up at him with such wonderment and love. Can't help but raise a lipped smile as he feels your tiny hands entangle with his subtly, drawing him closer to you, allowing the rain to dance and embrace the two of you.

"See, it's completely soothing and soul cleansing, no?" you tilt your head to the right, still wearing that heart melting smile on your adoring face.

Miguel only hums in reply, glances up at the dim lit, foggy sky, seeing nothing but muggy darkness.

He closes his eyes slowly, musing to your silly portrayal about the rain being so cleansing and comforting. In a way...he did feel a sort of contentment resonate all over his firm body. Cradling, nurturing to his rugged soul.

You couldn't help the giddy grin widen across your radiant face, mirroring his actions with your hands still holding his.

The harmonic sound of the rain bouncing off against the ground around you and distant thunder wooed you both into a deep state of pliancy. Serenity.

Feeling your souls connect ever so perfectly with the pattering water waltzing around you.

Your fingers curl further into Miguel's deeper, pulling at his larger hands with a dire request.

Miguels lowly hums, peering open his eyes as he looks down at you, noting the familiar glint of want and admiration swelling in those gorgeous round globes of enchantment. A flash of unmistakable plea peering up at him, he could only scoff with a lit smile.

He carefully pulls you close to his looming stature, lifts his left hand to delicately brush away the sticking wet strands of your hair clinging to the sides of your face and tuck them behind your ear. Eyes never leaving one another, as his palm soothes down from the plush of your soaked cheeks to the side of your jaw, holding you still with tender and adoration.

"You really are something else, aren't you cariño?" he mutters softly, leaning down to press his lips against your own with such passion and affection. Smiles wider when he feels your body practically melt into his arms, your own lips curling into a wider smile as your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, fingers generously weaving into his damped, soften curls.

[cryptocism]

AAAHHHAHAHA DUDE (GIRL, THEY THEM) YOUR IWTV IS AMAZING!!!! Your art style is like a characterization of them but much more realistic. It's like you took a photo of them and applied a filter. This is amazing, I love your DC Tim art but this is definitely making love your work more!

thanks!!! tbh applying a filter would probably be an easier route to go if it didnt sit wrong in my like... idk creative instincts. instead i use a very time consuming method called "drawing a face over and over and over again until i kinda get how it works"

actually im gonna use this ask as an excuse to post some studies here is the process:

basically step 1 i trace a photo so i can kinda get an idea of how shit works, then i try to draw the photo using what i learned from the tracing. 1st round is always wack so step 3 is comparing my proportions to the photo again. with armand i consistently drew his face too long lmao u can see it in the corrected sketches. then i do a second round of sketches, corrections, and usually a final sketch that i use as a light/shadow study. sometimes i end up doing more sketch passes if i really cant get the hang of it.

then repeat:

the goal is proportions and consistency, so hopefully when i draw a face with different expressions and angles - even if I dont have a reference that precisely lines up - i can still end up in the ballpark of recognizability.

funnily older daniel is much easier for me to draw than younger daniel tbh. theyve got similar faces but the actor for older daniel just has more distinctive features i can center stuff around, whereas young daniel eludes me a lil bit.... i gotta do more studies of those guys if i can shake the armand fixation for like 10 minutes

[verrixstudios]

If you're still doing the description drawings, I have a Boy!

He's a mud/ice, mostly square shaped like a mudwing but with a slightly crooked downward snout. He has overgrown upper and lower canines and his horns are shaped sort of light cartoon lightning bolts. He has a bushel of spines on his neck and a small amount of spikes on his tail. He's very sharp on top and soft/round on the bottom

His color is a rich, reddish brown, with a white/blueish white belly and face. He has a darker, red-toned, sorta earthy colored 'saddle' pattern from his snout to his tail. His eyes are storm colored (I change the exact shade of blue so much it's not even funny LMAO). Instead of that thin line of scales that mudwings have, he has a line of sharper, triangle ones, that are a dull, overcast shade of grey, which is the same color as the spikes on his neck

No pressure at all though!! This description was kind of all over the place so I understand if that's not really enough to work off 😂

Hey so you said a LARGE amount of spikes right?? /J

Ngl I started drawing him and went wild, kinda strayed from the description but I love drawing spikes I’m sorry 😭

This challenge should be called ‘I’m drawing from description, but I forget one thing every time’

[ID: A drawing of the described dragon, except with a lot of spikes all down his spine and tail, ending in large dull scales. He seems to be mid flight with his wings curve open above him, and his body tilted forward and off the ground. His tail remains on the ground, curled forward. Each leg is held in a way to see every talon, mostly just because I liked drawing them. The brightest part of the dragon is off white teeth and the whites of his eye. END ID]

[thebest-medicine]

if ur still doing summer prompts, could u do #71 with lee!bakugou and ler!bakusquad? (aka kiri, sero, mina, and denki lol). those mfs looove getting on bakugou’s nerves, so i feel like it’s fitting lmao. thank you!!

Prompt 71 - “This isn't cuddling! This is an attack!”

A/N: I am indeed! thanks for asking! and it's their job to snuggle and make their grumpy friend smile ok

…

“….You guys look fucking stupid.” Bakugo says skeptically as he rounds the corner of the couch and sees Sero, Kaminari, Kirishima, and Mina tangled up in a cuddle pile as they watch TV for the night.

“Join us!” Mina declares.

“Yeah, it’s nice, bro! Come on in!” Kaminari waves him over

“You have got to be joking. I wouldn’t be caught dead—”

With a wink, Sero suddenly whips a line of tape out and wraps it around their explosive friend’s arm. “Come on!”

“Shove it! I shouldn’t have even come over here!”

“Don’t say that!” Ashido scoffs, then continues in a bit of a sing-song. “You know you want to!”

“Yeah, bro!” Kirishima agrees.

Katsuki rolls his eyes, only to feel the shock of a hand wrapping around his wrist. It’s firm, hard. Kirishima. Then, just as he’s about to complain, there’s another hand - this time it’s on his other wrist. His friends are grinning, shifting their place to make a little opening, and…

With a quick tug, Bakugo is on the couch, and soon finds himself at the center of all of his friend’s attention as they quickly shuffle to incorporate (trap) him into their snuggly conglomeration.

“ARGHH- NO! GET OFF!” Katsuki shouts, tensing and squirming away as his friends squish ever closer.

“Why so grumpy, Bakugo? We just wanna show you some looooooove.” Mina teases, drawing his arm toward herself and nuzzling into his shoulder.

Bakugo feels his face warm up, and everyone fusses about until they’re all tangled again. Katsuki looks annoyed, sounds annoyed, but he doesn’t blow them up.

A short while later, Bakugo speaks again but in a softer, less harsh tone. “What, so you guys just. Sit like this.? How is this even comfortable.?”

“Whaaaaat? It so is comfortable.” Kaminari protests.

“You need to relax a little — accept our love and you’ll feel better!” Mina says.

“Come on, Bakubro, she’s right, you’re too tense. You gotta relax. Just enjoy it!” Kirishima assures him.

“Yeah, isn’t it nice to just relax with your friends sometimes? Turn that frown upside down! Do you not like us or something?” Kaminari teases. He pokes a couple times at Bakugo’s side as he talks, making his friend tense up even further.

“What’s this?” Kaminari grins. “You ticklish here or something?” He pokes at the spot - somewhere around the bottom of Bakugo’s rib cage - a few more times.

“Wait, really? Are you?” Mina gasps, delighted.

“Shut up, you don’t know what you’re talking about! Let me out of this idiot sandwich already!”

“That’s not very nice of you.” Sero sticks out his tongue and then pokes into Bakugo’s other side. He flinches toward Kaminari, but there’s nowhere to go.

“S-Stop it.” Katsuki warns, his eyes scanning for an exit. It’s hopeless.

He hears Mina giggle excitedly before he feels a set of wiggling fingers in his armpit. “AHAA- WAIT!” He sucks in a breath, starting to try to fight his way out. For the first time since he started protesting, they actually have to put in a little elbow grease to hold him this time.

“Let us cuddle you!” Mina insists.

“T-This isn’t cuddling.” Bakugo argues. “This is- this is an attack!” His voice is higher than usual, flighty. It…almost sounds like he’s holding back a laugh.

This only emboldens his attackers, who - with smiles and laughs of their own - begin tickling and prodding at him even more.

“Alright.” Mina smirks as she continues. “You’re right but… I’m just practicing my new move!”

Bakugo looks at her quizzically despite his poor attempt to hide his laughter.

“It’s called the super-cuddly-tickle-attack! Hyaaaah!” She cries out, then wraps her arms around him in a hug and positions her fingers at either side of his rib cage.

“N-Nahaha DON’T! Bahaha dohohon’t- you ihihihidiots!”

“You’ll feel a lot better in a few minutes!” Sero assures him.

Once they tire him out a bit, Katsuki finds he is much more receptive to the cuddling. The tickling subsides to his friends pulling him in close, and they watch the next episode of the show together.

…

[more sentence starter fic prompts]

[other sentence starter fics]

[read this & further MHA drabbles on ao3]

[hopefulromances]

Hi it’s the person from number 5 again!! LOL

24 had me thinking of Jamie bc he’s such a “would you love me if I was a worm” at 1 am boy😭 like bby I would build you a worm size soccer pitch but go to bed

LMAO I LOVE THISs

24. “Are you awake or asleep?”

Your eyes were closed, Jamie's arm wrapped tightly around your waist, keeping you pressed against his body. He was keeping you warm, which was nice as you tended to run cold. You and Jamie had stayed up late and after several rounds of satisfying sex, you were both properly exhausted.

After a shower, which lead to another quickie, you both were ready for a good nights rest, or so you thought.

"Pst... babe." Jamie shook you gently. "Are you awake or asleep?"

You let your eyes blink open, looking at the clock. 1:00AM.

"Mmm, I'm still awake?" You grumbled back to him. "Is everything, alright?"

You felt Jamie's finger, drawing shapes on your hip, a nervous tick of his.

"Oh, yeah, I was just...wonderin'"

He was being cagey. A tell tale sign that he was having some anxiety. You rolled over to face him, giving him your full attention, and intertwining your fingers with his.

"What's going on, baby," You murmur back to him.

He bit his lip and looked down. "I was just wonderin'... would you love me if I was a worm?"

You stilled. What the fuck.

"Jamie, what the fuck?"

He frowned, his lips pouting in a way that was too cute for someone you were mad at. "Well! If I was a worm, I wouldn't be able to play football, would I? So, like, would you still love me?"

You brought your hands up to cup his face, looking him deep in his eyes.

"Baby, if you were a worm, I'd build you a little worm-sized pitch," You told him, shaking his head a little as you spoke. "But please, go to sleep."

You went to roll over and go back to sleep but Jamie grabbed you.

"So... you would still love me," He checked, still refusing to meet your gaze.

You realized that he was truly worried about the situation. You let out a breathy laugh and kissed his adorable pouty lips.

"Yes, Jamie, I would still love you," You assured him, a kind smile on you face.

He smiled at that rolled over. You wrapped your arms around him, and rested your head on his cheek. He might be an anxious little thing, but he was your anxious little thing.

[angelshizuka]

Oooh okay okay, permission to be a little petty? This has been eating me up for a minute! On the topic of the helluva/hazbin redesigns: there are a lot of times in the critical side of this fandom where I’ll see people talking about what they would “fix” about the character designs, and like you said- some of the specifics people think they need to fix just…undermine the point of the character?? (I.e making Stolas big and burly) But it also feels like they’re ignoring that these characters look the way they do because they have to be ANIMATED. There’s been a handful of times I’ve seen people with that “fix it” attitude where they just waaaaay over complicate textures and shapes then say it’s so much better. For example some were saying Blitz’s design was bad because you can’t tell his burn scars were burn scars because the edges were too round. So they completely rendered the scars in their redesign and said they fixed it. I absolutely understand wanting to make detailed artwork. I LOVE detailing the hell out of a character in a drawing!! But to animate?? Especially with helluva where the spindle horse team doesn’t often outsource its animation?? I KNOW it’s silly but sometimes in passing I want to be like- ok. YOU animate your incredibly complicated redesign for a 20 minute animation at 24 frames per second. Then you get to handle the budget you’d need to get it finished and add in lighting/effects/etc. Then you ALSO get to handle the complaints from people who say episodes take too long to come out. Animation is a HUUUGE process! I feel like the work it takes to make it look so good is really taken for granted :,)

(I should be in bed so I hope any of this makes sense lmao I’m so sorry in advance!! Love your account your takes are so well thought out and you’re very funny <3)

Yes, thank you for your excellent point, I totally agree!

I mean, I will always defend CGI animation (I'm a firm believer all animation mediums are beautiful and valid), but I feel like it's spoiled people in how detailed a character's design can be. While part of the charm of 2D animation is how simplified lines can still get so much across.

It's been more than a decade since I studied animation and we only really did puppet animation, but even with that I quickly realized my designs could never be as detailed as when I just made a stand alone drawing (also, rip to my old animations that are lost to time, because my hard drive died a few years back...)

I'd honestly argue that for 2D animation standards the designs are really detailed. Maybe not for every character, but that's part of the beauty of it. Just like how in real life not all people dress all fancy and complicated, some people prefer simpler outfits, and they know how to make that come across in the character designs.

Especially Blitz is a prime example of being tailor made for 2D animation, that's also part of why some of the best facial expressions come from him, they know how to play around with his face shape. Regarding the scars, it's not just a 2D thing, it's the fact that imps scar differently than humans. So, again haters claiming they "fixed it" by completely ignoring lore.

(Aw, thank you! I try my best to put my thoughts into words and it helps make sense of whatever the hell is going on up there. I take a lot of pride in it, because my mother complimenting me on "knowing how to word things" was one of our last conversations before she passed.)

[pinetreeshack]

My apologies for likely spamming your notifications, but your art style is so amazing I eat it up EVERY time!!

May I ask how you came to creating such a style with Fiddleford and Stanford?

You fluctuate between styles with them, and I find it fascinating how you can still weave in your own touch without altering too much of the original style (at times). You also have the ability to draw them in your own style with their specific attributes to show you have a deeper understanding to what makes these characters, well, them.

I apologize if not I’m wording this all coherently, so in short: how you draw is so unique I love it so much!! How did you figure it out? Any tips on incorporating your style with the style of a show?

Thank you for your time and your whimsical & inspiring art!

hello!! first of all i want to thank you for you astonishingly kind words, reading this after waking up this morning was a nice treat! (and I would also like to apologize for how long this reply is going to be lmao)

the first thing that comes to mind when I talk about my art style is what art program im using. across my account i've used at least 4 different drawing programs to draw various drawings, all which produced different results. i do this because its very easy for me to fall into boredom with one drawing program.

i think this is where the variation in my styles come from (based on what brushes im using at the time) and what style is just easier to replicate with those brushes!

with fire alpaca, its easier for me to draw in the "gravity falls" style people see here because the art style is already critically laid out for me, all i have to do is follow it. when i want something more complex and realistic (that i have to draw from my brain), i switch to clip studio paint.

when i first started drawing them i was very scared to draw their prominent features as prominent as they were because i felt my style didnt fit it. so i made my style fit. i took their core design elements (their big noses, different face shapes, and hair shapes) and used that as starting grounds for building my style around them.

when i draw fiddleford, i almost ALWAYS start with his nose. when i draw ford, i almost ALWAYS start with his chin. heres a very quick visualization

a tip i have for trying to incorporate your style with that of a shows is to try and draw in the shows style first. that way, you can get in some muscle memory on what base shapes these characters follow. once you figure out that fiddleford has a very round peanut shaped head with little to no chin and hair larger than his nose, and that ford is a square with a muppet-like face and sideburns, you can replace these key attributes with the ones that follow your own style.

tldr; basically, have fun with it!! the more you draw them, the more your style will change around them!!

[tacoma-narrows]

Twins Times Two!

Everybody wish Rye and Pumpernickel a happy birthday!! I've had these two for three years at this point and every time I draw them, I love working with them! I originally made them to round out the lineup in Let's Get Back! but they've come into their own as characters more and more over the years!

More ramblies below the cut :3

This past year especially, I've put more thought into their personalities and stuff and I've been rlly happy with how that's been going. Rye, who plays backup guitar and keyboards for LGB!, is the more energetic of the two, very much an extrovert who likes to go around thinking he's real cool and stuff when he's rlly just kind of a dork lmao. Not necessarily in an egotistical kind of way, but he's got this stupid smirk that I love to draw him with (see this piece for an example lol) and I feel like sometimes he has an aggressively punchable face but I love him for it haha.

Pumpernickel on the other hand is a bit more reserved, but still able to ease up and have a good time. He plays the drums in LGB! and very much enjoys his position there. One thing I've decided about him lately is that he enjoys the nighttime, especially taking walks at night. That started as a one-off piece I made in connection with his theme song, but I liked the vibe enough that it stuck :3

Anyways, again feel free to wish the Bread Boys a happy birthday! I don't usually draw them on their own outside of a Let's Get Back! piece but it's something I wanna do more often to show off their twin dynamic more! Hope u all like these guys :]

[racketballz]

How did you settle on the girl's facial features? Did you have a feature that you immediately wanted them to have or was it trial and error for a majority of the time? (I still hand no idea what nose buttercup has, all I know is that it fits her face. And that's it).

Also how do you make the girls still look like sisters? Despite being so different from each other in terms of appearance. How do you get the "they're related" aspect of them?

So the faces yes I had an idea from the start I prioritize differnt things as time passes which changes things here and there like blossom I wanted to have a many long soft lines on her face bubbles the opposite she has a lot of round big features and buttercup has a lot of squares and sharp angles and a almost middle of the line in terms of shapes

Buttercup to me her nose not sure what I would call it myself LMAO

And how do I make them look like sisters I’m well aware they do not look the same I’m not blind right! But I know myself to be someone who is good at expressing relationships intimacy well so I can get away with it because even if they don’t “look like siblings” (cough according to whom cough) they act like siblings! I think there’s a lot of love that I put into my art and I draw them together bouncing off each a lot for a reason!