#i used to hate drawing hands but LOOK AT ME NOW

[n0vazsq]

Pretty Boy | LN4 x Reader

pairing . . . lando norris x gf!artist!reader

summary . . . While you're sketching a drawing of Lando, you notice that something's off with him. Then, you remind him that he's much more than what people think of him

request . . . no!

word count . . . 759

warnings . . . none! just one use of 'damn'

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . first lando fic!!! a bit short but i hope you guys like it <33

. . . The room smelled like salted caramel and the leather of the couch you were currently sitting on. Lando sat across from you, sat on the arm of the chair, one leg bouncing restlessly. The glow from his phone lit up his face every few seconds, softening the sharpness of his jawline, but it didn’t hold his attention for long. He set it down after scrolling aimlessly, leaning back with a sigh.

"You know," you started, stretching out your legs, "you really need to learn how to sit still. You’re stressing me out."

He flashed you that damn grin, the one he knew you hated for how effortlessly it made you forgive him for everything. "You sound like my engineer," he laughed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"Maybe I should be," you shot back, holding up the sketchpad in your lap. "You’re not exactly making this easy for me."

His eyes flicked to the page, and he tilted his head, squinting slightly. "That’s me?"

"Who else do you think I’ve been sketching this whole time? Your mum?"

Lando grinned, leaning in closer to get a better look. His hair was slightly messy, still damp from the shower he’d taken earlier, and you could smell the faint trace of his shampoo as he hovered over your shoulder. "Not bad," he said with mock seriousness, tapping his chin. "You almost got my nose right."

You turned your head, glaring playfully. "Almost? You’re lucky I even attempted that ski slope you call a nose."

He pretended to be offended, leaning back dramatically, a hand on his chest. "Ski slope? That’s rich coming from someone who-" He cut himself off, laughing at your raised eyebrow.

"Go on," you urged, smirking now.

"Nah," he said, still laughing as he settled back into the chair. "You’re not worth the fight."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. Lando had this way of lighting up a room without even trying, of making you feel like the only person who mattered when he turned that adorable charm your way. It was infuriating, really.

But tonight, something about him seemed quieter. The usual spark in his eyes was dimmer, and the edges of his grin didn’t reach as far.

"What’s going on with you?" you asked, setting the sketchpad aside.

He shrugged, looking down at his hands, which were fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. "Nothing. Just thinking."

"About....?"

He hesitated, chewing on the inside of his cheek before finally meeting your gaze. "You ever feel like… I don’t know. Like people only see what they want to see when they look at you?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Where’s this coming from?"

He shrugged again, more defensively this time. "It’s just… I don’t know. Everyone’s always saying stuff, you know? About me. Pretty boy this, golden boy that. Like that’s all I am."

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. "You know that’s not true, right?"

"Isn’t it?" he countered, his voice softer now, more uncertain.

"My beloved Lando." You said his name like it was the answer to a question he didn’t want to ask. "You’re so much more than what people say. You’re brilliant, and kind, and funny, annoyingly so, actuall. You care about the people around you more than you probably should."

He didn’t say anything, just stared at you with this look that made your chest tighten.

"I don’t see some ‘pretty boy,’" you continued. "I see you. The real you. And if other people don’t, that’s their loss. But just saying, you are pretty."

The corner of his mouth twitched, and he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "You’re too good at this whole therapy talk thing, you know that?"

You smirked, leaning back against the couch again. "Yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep your ego contained."

He laughed then, the sound breaking through the tension like sunlight through a cloud. And when he looked back at you, the spark in his eyes was there again, faint but unmistakable.

"Thanks," he said simply.

"For what?"

"For being here. For being… ," He took a deep breath, arms raising and falling, like he was trying to cut the air. "You.”

Your smile softened, and you shrugged. "Someone’s gotta put up with you."

He laughed again, shaking his head. "Lucky me, huh?"

And in the glow of the room, with the soft hum of the music in the background, you thought maybe you were the lucky one.

[takumiraine]

Once Upon A Time chapter 4

<first> <prev> <next>

Danny should avoid him, because of his father. Danny should just brush him off and let him drown. Danny should keep his distance from anyone and everyone, but especially him.

Danny was never the best at doing what he should do, and worse, he was hungry.

—-

The cafe on campus was quaint, filled with light chatter and Jason was hating every second of it. Danny showed up just as he said he would, which meant he met Jason there, the man having already taken a back corner table for them. Danny walked up and set his books down. Jason had to wonder, did the kid not have a backpack?

“Any idea what you want?” Jason asked instead, standing. Danny looked over to the menu, eyes skimming it over.

“Uh… burger and fries okay?” Danny seemed uncomfortable. Jason would feel bad if it didn’t put him at the tactical advantage.

Jason nodded at his request. “The works?”

“Please.” Danny bit his lip and Jason waited, while he worked up the nerve for something, “and a coffee? Black?” Was that it? Jason almost rolled his eyes.

“Sure thing.” Jason went off to place the order and leave a hefty tip, because one, he wanted someone to bring it out and two he wasn’t that kind of asshole. He came back and sat on the chair he had been occupying, back to the corner, and resisted the urge to spread out.

Jason the Red Hood man-spreaded, Jason Todd-Wayne did not.

So he sat. And he rested his forearms on the table. “You do not need to look so nervous Danny.” Jason tried for the patented Wayne smile, certain he was coming up short.

“Huh…?” Danny turned to look at him, “oh, sorry. Long day.” The young man raked his fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face. Jason knew it was a lie, but it seemed a familiar one. Danny tried to position himself so he could have the most visibility while drawing the least attention to himself. The position of a man hunted or used to being ambushed.

Danny refocused his attention after a moment, and looked at Jason, tilting his head slightly. “I hope it wasn’t a drain on your day to wait for me.” Jason waved his hand in response, the perfect practiced rich-bitch wave he hated.

“Nah, my friend works in the library on days when she doesn’t have class. I bothered her.” Danny seemed to relax a bit at the words.

“Oh good. I know I’m like… doing this for you, but…”

Jason cut him off there, turning the train of thought. “Speaking of, have you thought about what you want to be paid?”

“Oh… uh… not really. Most campus jobs make minimum wage right? Is that cool?” Jason wanted to throw Tim at this guy to teach him business sense in negotiation. If he really was 19, what had happened his whole life to make him feel like he needed to be invisible, while also walking away with a literal knife to the stomach and show up to class the next day?

“Most campus jobs do make minimum wage,” Jason agreed, “but nobody in my family is in the habit of paying just that. Just because I think my father is…. Well, words not fit for the polite company he insists I keep, doesn’t mean I’m going to stiff someone out of a well earned wage just to spite him. Twenty an hour is the lowest I’ll go.” He grinned now, all teeth, and something in him got a sick little thrill at watching Danny go even paler at the amount of money.

“Are you sure?” Danny asked, as their food and drinks were brought to them on a brown plastic tray.

“Say yes Dan. It’s a good deal.” Jason offered his hand to shake over the food.

Danny looked like he was offering his soul to the devil as Jason heard the man’s stomach rumble. “Okay. Yes.” Danny took his hand, and while the hand was ice cold, Danny shook with a surprisingly firm grip. Maybe the kid had a spine after all.

“Good. Now dig in,” Jason said after they parted. He picked up a fry off of his own plate and bit it, watching Danny with a sort of idle curiosity, as the boy - no, young man, went about his food with a carefully controlled gusto. Jason couldn’t help but wonder when the last time Danny ate was. He made a mental note to have Oracle check where he lived so he could do some recon later.

By the time dinner was finished, Danny seemed much more alive. His skin seemed to have better color, his eyes seemed more bright, and his energy was up. The kid was definitely going hungry if those changes were so immediate. Since Danny was scrawny, he assumed it wasn’t a new problem.

“So what makes math so difficult for you?” He asked, wiping his mouth and tilting his head. The question was blunt, but there was no open malice behind those bright blue eyes. The same kind of blue as his own when he wasn’t pit mad.

Jason shrugged. “Not really sure. It’s always been my weakest subject.” Not a lie. “Beyond money, my brain doesn’t seem to care.” Half a lie, but plays into the rags to rich bitch stereotype.

“I get that. I told you about me and literature right? For me it seems like there’s poetry in the way the math just… works.” Danny paused then, skin flushing red. “Sorry, that was…. Really stupid.”

In another life, Jason would have really liked this kid he thinks.

“No, not at all. Whoever told you your insights weren’t good obviously never stopped to listen to you.” Was he flirting? Should he be flirting? He flirted to maintain a cover or gain intel all the time. That’s all this was.

He almost missed the way Danny’s skin flushed deeper, from his ears down his neck. Almost.

“Well…. You’re in the minority then.” It came out a little bitter. He watched Danny take a breath and “Anyways.” Danny waved a hand, banishing the thought and something serious took over his expression instead. “I’m not going to take it easy on you just because you’re paying me. I expect you to put in the work too.”

Jason was right, the guy did have a spine. “Sure thing.” He waved his hand and stood, grabbing his bag and the tray. Danny stood and grabbed his books too. “Library?”

“Library.” Danny agreed.

Over the next week Jason was “surprised” to find out that they had three classes together. Math, Lit and Comp and History. All three remedial, and really the only one that Danny seemed borderline to deserve was the Introduction to Literature and Composition course. What he was genuinely surprised to find was that he enjoyed spending the combined nine hours of classes a week with the kid. Although in ‘basic mathematic principles’ Danny was quiet and allowed Jason to focus so they could work on their tutoring more effectively, in their history and English classes Danny was witty and sarcastic. A second thing he had noticed was that now that the tutoring sessions were happening, an hour, sometimes more, after every class, to make sure he ‘got it’, Danny was almost always eating.

Jason had learned that Danny’s ‘big life goal’ was a roof over his head, where his friends and family could visit or stay as they liked and room to tinker. A job that let him help people.

It was that information that made Jason fully convinced that even though he hated the Justice League with a viciousness that most rogues would balk at, for reasons he had yet to disclose, Danny was not really likely to become a rogue unless something big happened.

He should stop the college charade now. It was no longer needed for recon, and the other birds were starting to get suspicious. Bruce was looking at him differently too now. Something like how he used to.

A pen tapped on his notebook and Jason brought his attention back. Danny didn’t say anything, or even look at him, he was too busy sketching what looked like a circuit board in a secondary notebook. Jason quickly wrote down the notes before the slide changed, not looking forward to a disappointed look from his tutor.

Surprisingly, he ran into Danny as Red Hood once more that week. He was doing surveillance on a rooftop, when a sound caught his attention from the fire escape. Jason dipped back into the shadows and around the concrete and brick entrance from inside the building as a familiar mass of unruly black hair appeared and Danny hauled himself up with a surprising amount of finesse for someone who didn’t look muscular in the slightest.

“Damn it. Where’d you go guy? I thought I saw you land here.” Danny grumbled to himself, hands on his hips as he looked around “stupid not a bat disappearing just like the real ones…” While Jason was certain that he wasn’t meant to hear that, he finished his route and appeared almost behind Danny.

“What do you need?” He asked, thankful for the voice modulator as he knew Danny would have recognized his voice by now even if muffled by a helmet.

As it was, Danny startled with a yelp, swinging around and aiming a punch right for his solar plexus. Jason caught his wrist with practiced ease. “Fuck! Don’t scare a guy like that!” Danny yanked his arm back in a way that was meant to break unpracticed holds. Clever.

Jason waited while the kid caught his breath. “Well?”

“What? Oh. Uh. The guy. That…” Danny mimed the stabbing. “Is he okay?”

“Checked himself into the hospital about two hours later. He’s fine.” Oracle’s voice sounded in his ear. He nodded.

“Good, good…” Danny pushed his hair out of his eyes again, looking up at Jason through his helmet. Jason was hit with the disconcerting thought that somehow Danny was seeing through the bullet resistant one way visor. “Um… do you need the knife back? Or…. Should I….keep….it….? Or dump it? What’s…. I don’t know the protocol here, but I think ‘hey officer I was stabbed with this knife and the not-a-bat down in Crime Alley beat him up and then I accidentally stole it’ is a bad one.”

Jason snorted at the rambling, while Oracle laughed in his ear. “Even static filled he seems hilarious. I know why you like him.” He was going to kill Babs next time he saw her. “Knowing what he looks like doesn’t hurt either.”

“I can take it for you.” Jason said instead.

“Great! Wait here.” Danny turned and hopped back over the edge of the fire escape with the ease of someone who had years of training or practice.

“Is he like this all the time?” Babs asked, and Jason shrugged.

“Off and on.” Jason answered, sliding back down the fire escape completely silently as opposed to the obnoxious clatter Danny had made. He had seen and heard Danny move silently, like in the library, even on those creaky metal ladders for the top of the stacks, but he just assumed this was some sort of half assed survival mechanism.

Danny appeared again a few minutes later, with the knife wrapped in a towel in a bag. “I didn’t know how you wanted it so…” like Danny was bringing him coffee or ordering a pizza. Jason opened the bag and took the knife out, examining it.

“Good job kid. Now go home. It’s late.” It was barely ten. But he knew the Alley got more dangerous the later it got.

“Yeah. Okay.” Danny turned.

“Red Hood.”

Danny turned back. “What?”

“My name. Not-a-Bat isn’t as effective at striking fear into the enemy.”

Danny scoffed some. “I don’t need to use you as a shield.”

Jason held up the knife. Danny crossed his arms. “that was under control.”

“Right.”

“It was.”

Jason shook his head and pulled out his grapnel, firing it into the distance. As he swung off he had more questions about Danny than he was sure he would ever have answers.

[soldearestsoulmate]

Inspired by the Bad End of the game.

Something small. Angst time. (and venting I guess. depression rocks lol)

The sound of the clock ticking that hung on the wall always sounded loudest in these moments.

He hated it, but Sol endured it. Since he had no choice after all.

He silently waited in his seat for the woman sitting across from him to finish looking through his book...His book full of drawings, sketches, of what he made this week.

She hummed lowly, closely looking at one of the drawings. "I see you drew them again...Quite the memory you have to have picked up all their details, Mr. Brugmansia."

Sol didn't respond to that...He was used to hearing this by now. How many times has these sessions happened? He lost count...

"The rest however...You still can't let that day go, I see...The more you cling to that day. The less likelihood we can make progress on your healing to be released, you know?"

Now Sol let out a low chuckle, it sounded forced, and exhausted.

"You know I'm never getting out of here, doctor..." He spoke with a look that said it all...He was tired, drained...but not because of these sessions, these repeated days.

No...He was tired of living these days without them...

Without you...

"...Then I guess there's no point in this session then. I can skip straight to filling out the paper work for your medica--"

"NO! Please...Just...Can you not do it...This once? Please? I...I rarely can feel not numb anymore since coming here. It's...You don't understand how horrible it feels...To feel like a zombie...A stranger in your own body...It's like..."

"I completely understand, Mr. Brugmansia. That only means the medication is working. It's for your own good. You don't want a repeat of what happened last time, after all...Right?"

Sol looked down at his lap, his hands clenched into fists as he remembered. It wasn't his fault those bastards said that stuff about you. They deserved it...Deserved having their heads bashed in...and put into comas. It was all for you.

The woman opened his sketchbook again, and flipped through a few pages until stopping on one.

"May I ask why you drew him in color this time?" She showed the page...Which had Crowe in it...Usually he'll be colored in black and white or in red...for blood.

"...I had my reasons..."

"Speak then."

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me." She leaned back in her seat, getting her pen and clipboard ready, prepared to write and take down notes.

Sol sighed and then spoke. "...The night the medication wore off earlier than usual...I had a dream again...A vivid one...I saw them again, but they were...They looked and felt so real. I didn't want to wake up...Not be away from them again..." He smiled at the memory, then paused, his smile fading. "Though they asked me of something. I hated it...I hated the request, but for them...I did it. It was for them..."

"Mhm...By "them", you mean Y/n correct?" Sol nodded lightly. Hearing their name spoken made his heart ache.

"...They said they love the way I bring color and life through my art...That's why I draw them a lot...To--"

"To bring them back to life." She felt pity for the man before him, but not enough. Especially after knowing what he done.

"They wanted to see...Ichabod...with life again...Even after I took it, they asked of me to bring it back, bring him back." He gave a smile, desperation in his eyes as he looked at her. "THAT HAS TO MEAN SOMETHING, RIGHT?! THAT MEANS THEY STILL LOVE ME AND TRUST ME! THEY'RE WATCHING ME! WAITING FOR ME! MY PUMPKIN! MY SOULMATE LOVES ME! EVEN AFTER WHAT HAPPENED, THEY UNDERSTOOD, AND KNEW I DID IT FOR THEM! FOR US!! THEY LOVE ME!!"

It'll be a lie to say she wasn't startled by his outburst, especially with the crazed look in his eyes, but worked to remain calm in her seat. Until he looked to calm himself with a lovestruck smile over his own delusion of what he thought that dream meant. Over believing you actually spoke to him...and met him again.

"...Of course you did, Solivan...Of course." She wrote down a few more things, then clicked her pen shut. "Our session is over now. Please, do eat your food tonight, Mr. Brugmansia. As well, get plenty of rest."

After Sol left the room, with cuffed hands and escorted out by some men, like always. Luckily with no fight this time like the other times.

The woman sighed and rubbed her eyes in frustration. "He's not showing signs of improvement...His delusions truly have a tight hold on him...A change of medication might be best...or a higher dosage..."

[greengoblinswifey]

we desperately need more sub!nicholas please like not even inexperienced just maybe you punishing him (sexually) for staying out late or flirting with another girl in front of you 😁

summary— you punish nicholas for coming home late in the best way possible.

warnings— pure smut, sub!nicholas, bondage, hand job, degradation, praise kink, edging, overstimulation, face sitting, gagging, use of sex toys, protected sex.

a/n— i love dom!nicholas but sub!nicholas awakens something in me🤭

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

It had started earlier in the day, when he mentioned he had an interview scheduled with his female co-star for GQ. Of course, you’d played it cool, brushing off that familiar pang of irritation you always felt when he worked closely with women in the industry. It wasn’t jealousy, not exactly, you trusted him. Nicholas had never given you a reason not to. He was as sweet as they came, always coming home to you with stories of his day, his eyes lighting up like a kid showing off a drawing they made. He adored you, and you knew that.

But you also knew how these things could go. The media was relentless, pairing him with every beautiful actress he worked with, spinning stories of secret romances and undeniable chemistry. You’d roll your eyes when you saw the headlines, but deep down, it always left a bitter taste. You hated how they tried to chip away at the image of your Nicholas, the loyal, goofy, golden boy who brought you coffee in bed and left love notes on the bathroom mirror.

Still, you’d let it go this morning. It was part of the job, you reminded yourself. Nicholas had kissed you on the forehead before he left, promising he’d be back by evening. “I’ll order you take out and we can watch a movie,” grinning like the whole world started and ended with you.

But evening came and went, and your sweet Nicholas was nowhere to be found.

At first, you’d been concerned. This wasn’t like him, he always checked in, even if he was running late. But as the hours ticked by with no texts or calls, concern gave way to frustration. You checked your phone repeatedly, half-expecting it to buzz with an explanation, but it remained silent.

By the time the clock struck midnight, your patience had worn thin. He’d better have a damn good excuse, you thought, sitting on the bed in nothing but your lingerie. You weren’t usually one to go full dominatrix, to an extent, yes, but tonight? Oh, tonight Nicholas was going to learn that you weren’t someone to take lightly.

Nicholas knew he was in trouble the moment he stepped into the house. The stillness in the air was off, almost as if it had been waiting for him to walk through the door. He dropped his bag near the entrance and hesitated before heading toward the bedroom, his heart hammering. He already knew you’d be upset—of course, you would. He’d said he’d be home hours ago, and not even a text had been sent to you. That wasn’t like him, and he knew better than to leave you hanging.

As he pushed the bedroom door open, his breath caught in his throat. There you were, sitting on the bed, wearing nothing but a black lace set of lingerie that hugged every curve of your body. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated your skin, and his eyes darted to the items laid beside you—a roll of tape and a pair of handcuffs. Nicholas swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly as he realized just how much trouble he was in.

“You’re late,” you said, your voice dripping with controlled irritation.

He glanced at the clock on the wall and then at you. “Uh, it’s—“

You cut him off sharply. “I didn’t ask what time it was. What time you were supposed to be home?”

“Seven,” he mumbled, his voice sheepish. He looked like a boy caught sneaking out past curfew.

“And what time is it now?” you asked, tilting your head as if daring him to lie.

“M- midnight,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He already knew where this was headed.

“And why the fuck,” you began, your tone firm and unyielding, "are you just now walking through the door?"

He stuttered, fumbling for an explanation. “I—I lost track of time. There was an after-party, and, uh”

“I don’t give a fuck about your after-party,” you snapped, rising from the bed. Your presence was commanding, and Nicholas froze as you walked toward him. “You think you can just waltz in here hours late without a text or a call and everything will be fine? Do you know how worried I was? And did you forget my rules?”

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, his words tumbling out in desperation. “I really didn’t mean to—“

“Save it,” you interrupted, holding up a hand. “You don’t get to apologize and think that fixes it. You’re getting punished tonight.”

Nicholas’ eyes widened, flicking nervously to the handcuffs on the bed. He wasn’t sure whether to feel excited or terrified—or maybe both. “Punished?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

“Yes,” you said simply, stepping closer until you were inches away from him. “You need to learn to respect my time. Do you understand me?”

He nodded quickly, his golden retriever-like obedience shining through even now. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good,” you said, your lips curving into a wicked smile. You reached for the tape and handcuffs, holding them up for emphasis. “Now, be a good boy and do exactly as I say.”

Nicholas’ breath hitched, and he gave a slight, nervous chuckle. “You’re really mad, huh?”

You raised an eyebrow, unamused. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

He immediately shook his head. “No ma’am. No, you don’t.”

“Then shut up and get on the bed,” you commanded, your voice firm but teasing. He obeyed without hesitation, stripping himself of his clothes, knowing full well he’d walked right into this.

“Whatever you say,” he murmured, his voice low. “I’m all yours.”

And tonight, you intended to make sure he remembered that.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, his eyes flicking nervously between the handcuffs in your hand and your face, which held an expression he couldn’t quite read. You didn’t give him much time to think about it, though, you pushed him back, flat against the mattress, and before he could say a word, his wrists were locked in place, cuffed to the headboard.

He tugged at the restraints instinctively, testing their strength, but it was no use. His hands were pinned, leaving him completely at your mercy. His breathing was shallow, his chest rising and falling as he looked up at you, his eyes momentarily replaced with something more vulnerable.

“You look scared, Nicholas,” you teased, leaning down just enough to let your hair brush against his flushed face. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little punishment.”

“I— I’m not,” he stammered, though the way his Adam's apple bobbed suggested otherwise.

“Good,” you said, straightening up. “Because the least you can do is make me feel good after keeping me waiting all night. And don’t even think about touching me. You’ve lost that privilege.”

He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he nodded. “Of course. Anything for you.”

You climbed onto the bed, your knees straddling his chest as you moved up, slowly and deliberately. His eyes tracked your every movement, dark with anticipation. By the time you hovered over him, his breaths were coming out in short, uneven bursts.

“Don’t disappoint me, Nicholas,” you said, gripping the headboard for balance as you lowered yourself onto his mouth. His reaction was immediate, a muffled groan that sent a shiver up your spine as his tongue began to work.

He didn’t hesitate, his mouth moving against you like a man starved. The way he devoured you was almost frantic, his tongue lapping and flicking as though he were trying to prove himself worthy of redemption.

“That’s it,” you murmured, your voice low and commanding. “You’d better make me cum, or you’re really not going to like what happens next.”

He whimpered in response, a muffled sound that only spurred you on. His efforts grew more fervent, his tongue moving in rhythm as you tightened your grip on the headboard, your knuckles turning white.

“Is that all you’ve got?” you taunted, your voice sharp. “You’re supposed to be my good boy, but you’re making me wait to cum.”

His muffled protests only made you smirk, and for a moment, you almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

Finally, the pressure built to a breaking point, and your orgasm overtook you, leaving you breathless as your body trembled. Nicholas slowed down but didn’t stop, his tongue gentle now, coaxing every last ounce of satisfaction from you.

When you finally pulled away, his face was flushed, his lips parted and glistening as he looked up at you. “Was I—was I your good boy?” he asked, his voice hoarse, almost pleading.

You laughed, a short, sharp sound that made him flinch. “You think one good deed is enough to make up for tonight?”

He blinked up at you, unsure whether to answer.

“Nice try,” you said, leaning down to press a finger to his lips.

You moved down his body slowly, watching as his chest rose and fell, his breaths coming in short, uneven gasps. His arousal was painfully obvious, cock hard, standing at attention, twitching with need. It almost looked unbearable, and the sight made you smirk.

Your fingers grazed the tip, soft and teasing, and he flinched, his whole body tensing as he let out a shaky exhale. His hands strained against the handcuffs, the metal clinking against the bedpost.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice tight, almost breaking. “Please, just—just put it in your mouth.”

You laughed, a low, mocking sound that made his face flush deeper. “Put it in my mouth?” you repeated, tilting your head as though the suggestion was absurd. “You don’t get to demand anything, Nicholas. Have you forgotten where you are right now?”

“I’m not—I wasn’t demanding,” he stammered, his words stumbling over each other in his desperation.

“You’re talking too much,” you said, reaching for the roll of tape on the bed. His eyes widened as he realized your intention, but he didn’t dare protest. The second you placed the tape over his mouth, his muffled whimper made your smile widen. “That’s better.”

You let your fingers trail back down, brushing over his dick with deliberate slowness. His hips jerked involuntarily, a muffled groan escaping through the tape. You wrapped your hand around him, squeezing just enough to make him shiver, and started moving—slow, teasing strokes that barely gave him relief.

It didn’t take long for him to unravel. His breathing hitched, his head pressed back into the mattress as he squeezed his eyes shut. His thighs trembled under your touch, and his muffled sounds became more frantic as you worked your hand on his thick cock.

“You’re so easy to break, aren’t you?” you said, your tone dripping with amusement as you let your thumb brush over the sensitive tip. He twitched under your touch, leaking and red, his body betraying just how badly he needed release.

Nicholas whimpered, his hands thrashing against the restraints, his whole body straining. His muffled noises were growing louder, more desperate, and you could tell he was close. His legs were trembling, his hips lifting slightly as though chasing your hand, and then, you stopped.

His muffled groan was almost a scream as his hips fell back against the bed. His protests were incoherent, his head turning to look at you with wide, pleading eyes. His face was flushed, a deep red spreading across his cheeks and down his neck, and he looked so utterly wrecked that you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh, poor baby,” you teased, sitting back on your heels as he writhed beneath you. “Did you really think I’d let you off that easy?”

He groaned again, his frustration clear even through the tape, and you leaned down, brushing your lips against his ear. “Don’t worry,” you murmured. “We’ve got all night.”

Leaning over to the side table, you retrieved a small vibrator, holding it up for him to see. His eyes widened, and he shook his head slightly, his muffled protests intensifying. You chuckled, running your fingers lightly over the toy, switching it on so it buzzed softly in your hand.

“Oh, don’t act so scared, baby,” you teased, trailing the buzzing tip along his inner thigh. His body jolted at the sensation, a strangled whimper escaping him. “You wanted this. Didn’t you just beg me to make you feel good?”

He shook his head furiously, his muffled words barely audible, and you laughed at his pitiful attempt to escape. “No? Then what’s this?” You let the vibrator skim over his shaft, just for a second, and he groaned loudly, his hips bucking toward the sensation before you pulled it away.

“Look at you,” you said, your voice soft but taunting. “So needy. So desperate. I haven’t even touched you properly, and you’re already falling apart.”

Nicholas’ legs shook as you teased him, running the vibrator up and down his shaft in the lightest, most maddening touches. His head thrashed against the pillow, muffled groans and high-pitched whimpers spilling out of him. His whole body trembled, his hips involuntarily jerking toward you, but you didn’t give him what he wanted.

“Stay still,” you ordered sharply, and he froze, his body tense as though trying to obey. You rewarded him by pressing the vibrator against the sensitive tip, holding it there for just a moment. His muffled cry was loud, his back arching as his hands clenched into fists above his head.

“You’re such a mess,” you murmured, dragging the toy down to the base and back up again, keeping the pressure light. “So greedy for it. You’d do anything to cum right now, wouldn’t you?”

He nodded desperately, his eyes locking onto yours as if begging for mercy. But you weren’t done. Switching the vibrator to a higher setting, you pressed it against him again, keeping your hand steady as he thrashed beneath you.

“Ah, ah,” you cooed, placing a hand on his stomach to hold him down. “No running from me, baby. You wanted this, remember?”

Nicholas’ muffled cries grew louder, his hips grinding helplessly against the toy as you worked him over. His entire body was trembling, his legs shaking violently as he edged closer and closer to release.

And then, just as his body tensed and his muffled whimpers turned to desperate pleas, you pulled the toy away.

The sound he made was almost heartbreaking, a loud, frustrated cry muffled by the tape. His head turned toward you, his eyes glassy with unshed tears, his expression pure desperation.

“Poor thing,” you said mockingly, trailing your fingers down his thigh as he quivered under your touch. “Did you really think I’d let you finish? You haven’t earned it yet.”

Nicholas let out another muffled groan, his body writhing against the bed as he tugged weakly at the restraints. His voice cracked as he tried to plead, his eyes filled with a mix of frustration and desperation.

“You’re going to take whatever I give you,” you whispered, leaning down to kiss the corner of his jaw. “And you’re going to thank me for it when I’m done.”

Switching the vibrator back on, you pressed it to him again, starting the cycle all over. This time, you added your free hand to the mix, stroking him lightly, alternating between teasing and stopping entirely. His muffled cries turned into broken whimpers, his body trembling violently as you pushed him to the edge again and again, only to deny him every single time.

“You’re so pretty like this,” you murmured, watching as his face flushed a deep red. “Completely at my mercy. Just the way I like you.”

By the time you finally stopped, he was a wreck. His chest heaved, his body glistening with sweat, his eyes glassy and unfocused. You smirked, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the tape over his mouth.

Reaching over to the nightstand again, you retrieved another toy, a sleek, silver vibrating wand. His eyes widened at the sight and you switched it on, the low buzz filling the room as you trailed it slowly down his chest, letting it rest against his hip bone before dragging it even lower.

“Look at you,” you teased, holding the wand just above where he wanted it most, his cock. “You’re shaking like a leaf. Is this what you want, baby? Is this what you need?”

He nodded frantically, his hips jerking up in an attempt to get some friction, but you quickly pressed him back down with your hand. “No, stop,” you scolded, a grin spreading across your face. “I’m in control here.”

You moved the wand closer, letting the vibrations graze the sensitive base of his cock. He let out a muffled cry, his head tipping back against the pillow as his entire body tensed. His hips bucked again, but you kept your hand firm on his stomach, holding him in place as he writhed beneath you.

“You’re so desperate. You wish I’d let you cum, right?”

He nodded again, his eyes glossy with tears as he met your gaze. His muffled pleas were incoherent, but you could feel the desperation radiating from him. You chuckled, dragging the wand back and forth in agonizingly slow motions, keeping him on the edge without letting him cum.

“Poor baby,” you cooed, pressing the wand harder against him for just a moment. His muffled moan was loud, his body arching off the bed as he was on edge. But before he could finish, you pulled it away entirely, laughing softly as he let out a frustrated cry.

“Not yet,” you said sweetly, brushing a strand of hair from his damp forehead.

Tears slipped down his flushed cheeks, his hands pulling uselessly against the cuffs as he begged through the tape. You tilted your head, pretending to consider before reaching for a condom from the nightstand.

“Don’t look so hopeful,” you teased, tearing the foil open. “You’re not getting everything you want. You don’t deserve that.”

His eyes widened as you rolled the condom down over him, and you grinned at his pitiful expression. Usually, you didn’t bother with condoms, letting him feel all of you, but tonight was about punishment.

You climbed onto him, straddling his hips, and his muffled whimper sent a thrill through you. Slowly, you sank down onto him, taking his hard and leaking cock inch by inch. His eyes fluttered shut, his head tipping back as a deep moan rumbled in his chest.

“Eyes on me,” you ordered sharply, and his gaze snapped back to yours, wide and desperate. “I want you to watch. Watch what you can’t touch.”

You set a brutal pace, riding him hard and fast, your hands gripping his chest for balance. His muffled cries grew louder, his body trembling beneath you as he struggled to keep up. You leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “Don’t you fucking dare cum.”

He whimpered, his eyes glistening as he nodded quickly, his entire body shaking with the effort to hold himself back. “Good boy,” you said mockingly, sitting back up and continuing your relentless movements. “I bet you wish you could feel my pussy raw. Don’t you, baby? I bet you wish you could touch me, squeeze me, hold me.”

Nicholas nodded frantically, tears spilling from the corners of his eyes as his muffled sobs filled the room. “Pathetic,” you muttered, your nails digging into his chest as you rode him harder. “You’re so needy. So desperate. It’s almost cute.”

You felt your orgasm building, your movements growing erratic as you chased your own pleasure. When it finally hit, you cried out, your body shaking as you collapsed forward onto his chest. Nicholas let out a muffled sob beneath you, his head tipping back as he stared up at you with a mix of awe and desperation.

“You’re so beautiful,” you heard him mumble faintly through the tape, his voice trembling. You laughed softly, brushing his damp hair back as you caught your breath.

“That’s right,” you murmured, leaning down to kiss his jaw. “And you’re lucky I let you have any of me at all.”

Catching your breath, you turned around to face the opposite direction, giving Nicholas a perfect view of your ass. His muffled whimpers grew louder when you started bouncing on him again, the sound of your ass meeting him filling the room. His body was trembling beneath you, his hands pulling helplessly at the handcuffs, and you could hear the muffled desperation in his voice.

“You sound so pathetic,” you teased, glancing over your shoulder at him. “I bet you wish you could touch me right now. Squeeze my ass the way you love to and slap it. Isn’t that right?”

He nodded frantically, his eyes wide and filled with tears as you wiggled your hips, grinding down on him just enough to make him cry out behind the tape. “Please!” he begged, the sound muffled but unmistakable, and it only made you grin wider.

“Poor thing,” you mocked, riding him harder now, your nails digging into the bed as you steadied yourself. “You can’t even handle me, can you?”

His muffled groans turned into full-blown sobs as you felt the pressure building inside you. You arched your back, your own moans spilling from your lips as the intensity became too much to hold back. With a sharp cry, you came, your body shuddering violently as you squirted, the sensation leaving you breathless. Nicholas let out a muffled sob beneath you, his head tipping back against the pillow as his entire body trembled.

“You’ve been such a good little fuck toy for me,” you said, your voice still breathless as you turned to look at him. His cheeks were damp with tears, his eyes pleading as he stared up at you. “Do you think you’ve learned your lesson? Do you think you’ve earned it?”

He nodded rapidly, his muffled voice frantic as he tried to answer. Reaching back, you peeled the tape off his mouth, and he gasped for air before the words started spilling out in a rush. “Yes! Yes, please, I’ve learned my lesson! I’ll never be late again, I swear! Please, please, I need to—“

“Shhh,” you interrupted, running your hand over his chest to quiet him. "You’re talking too much again. Beg for it. Show me how much you want it.”

“Please,” he begged, his voice cracking as he looked up at you with desperation in his eyes. “Please, baby, I’m so sorry. I’ll never be late again. I’ll do anything—anything you want. Please let me cum. I need it so bad, please.”

You hummed, pretending to consider his words as you kept moving your hips, the pace slow and deliberate now. “Hmm. I guess you’ve been good enough," you said, leaning down just slightly. “You can cum now, baby.”

The moment the words left your mouth, his entire body tensed, and a strangled moan ripped from his throat as he finally let go. He practically exploded into the condom, his orgasm hitting him so hard that tears spilled from his eyes. His head tipped back, his mouth open as he whimpered loudly, his voice breaking as he cried out, “I’m your good boy! Yes, I’m your good boy! Always for you!”

You smiled, brushing your hand over his chest as you eased off of him. “That’s right,” you murmured, watching him tremble beneath you. Reaching down, you removed the condom, tying it off and tossing it into the trash. His chest was still heaving, his hair sticking to his damp forehead as he blinked up at you.

“Are you— are you gonna take the handcuffs off now?” he asked, his voice hoarse and trembling.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head as you stood and stretched. “Oh, I don’t think so,” you said, your tone light and teasing. "You’re staying just like that for a while.”

Before he could protest, you disappeared into the bathroom, leaving him cuffed, breathless, and utterly wrecked as he stared at the ceiling, the sound of your laugh echoing in his ears.

[taocc-updates]

hey guys, lily here

ive been thinking for a while. a LONG while. like, since january, when my activity in taocc first started to kinda taper off. and.

i think im going to officially leave taocc. like, actually leave. im not breaking ties with it completely. i love you all so much and id hate to lose the friendships ive made in this community. but i think im done.

not only has my interest in taocc just completely gone down the drain, but it just feels like so much goes on in the day that even if im online often, i still miss out.

not to mention, i think i was using taocc to cope with being lonely. i had no idea how attention starved i was until i joined. i was obsessed. it got to the point where my rps on tumblr were getting in the way of my real life relationships, and i didnt notice until it was too late.

the moment i met my boyfriend was the moment i realized i was only using taocc to cope with my need for attention. the moment i started posting about him was around the time i stopped interacting as much.

also, all of the drama and traumatic events and stuff have been way too much for me. i joined taocc looking for a fun, silly time to be silly with friends, and i feel like its just devolved into a traumafest. none of the characters are ever happy for long, and its really started to get to me. i thought maybe stepping away for a bit would fix that, but instead it just made it feel worse.

so. im leaving taocc. not exactly sure what im going to do with all of my blogs just yet. maybe ill hand them over to some of you, or maybe ill just make a unique final closing post on each blog to give each character the closure they need. not sure yet. but for right now, ill leave it here.

i love you all, and im really grateful to all of you for being my friends. keep drawing, keep playing with your ocs like dolls, and have a wonderful life.

this is mod lily, signing off for the last time.

[a-writing-otter]

WIP Wednesday - Chapter 10 of The Redemption and Subsequent Death of Bill Cipher

Bill is drinking tea as he looks down at Dipper’s journal. The most recent pages are several detailed descriptions and theories revolving the entity known as Copernicus (Less of an “entity” and more of a “pain in the ass” in Bill’s opinion, but tom-may-to, to-mah-to). After wading through what memories he’s got, Bill has divulged everything he can come up with on both the demon himself and incubi in general.

“So, they’re only as strong as who they’re feeding off of?” Dipper asks, scribbling something down.

Bill makes a halfway gesture.

“They’re only as strong as the strength they’ve accumulated and the realm that they’re rooted to. Copernicus feeds on this realm, most incubi do because it’s a plane rife with people who all hate their lives and are willing to indulge in anything to escape it. The goal is to feed here and tear it up in another dimension, usually the Nightmare Realm. Copernicus wants to feed and tear it up here, so he needs to bring his roots into this realm. If he does that, he doesn’t need Dottie Gleeful anymore and can just walk around and cause indiscriminate chaos.”

“Which is why he needs the rift opened—“

“So he can squeeze his scrawny ass through,” Bill mutters into the tea before taking a sip.

“How do we avoid doing that while getting him out of a person?”

Bill comes a little closer over Dipper’s shoulder.

“Your uncle’s working on that right now,” Bill mumbles before pointing at the book and the drawing that Dipper has rendered of Copernicus’ previous demon form, per Bill’s description. “Good sketch, kid.”

Dipper smiles up at him before turning back to it.

“What does he look like normally?”

Bill sighs at that.

“Well, it’s… a little more complicated.” He stares down into the cup for a second. “I always knew him like that, as a diamond with three eyes, similar to the way I used to look, but a different shape, color, and eyes set-up. He also likes neck-ties and bowler hats.”

“But?”

“But incubi are a lot more fluid with their form,” Bill explains. “He put that form on to appease me. To… To make me feel less alone.”

Copernicus, once upon a time, had been very good at that. Up until a couple of months prior, he hadn’t remembered their time together unfondly. Copernicus had been a pretty good boyfriend, all things considered. They’d drifted the Nightmare Realm together, caused undue chaos, and when Bill had told him about the things he heard, the things he saw, Copernicus believed him.

Another universe, they might have ruled this stupid planet together.

But now Bill wants to “protect it” and that kind of throws a wrench in everything else.

Not to mention his current “boyfriend” situation which is less of a “boyfriend” situation and a “maybe-not-also-kind-of-yes-boyfriend-situation”. Which, like, now isn’t exactly the time to quantify that just because they slept together.

And Bill said that he loves him.

And neither of them have commented on it in the few days since.

It’s fine. It’s good. All fine. Time to figure this stuff out once they dealt with everything else.

Right.

“What’s he look like when he’s normal?”

It takes a second for Bill to conjure the image, thinking back to the dream he’d had before they exorcised him.

“Kind of… amorphous. A cloud, grey-purple in color. Lots of hands and eyes. God, Cooper’s really just eyes. Incubi tend to have very fluid forms, lets them adapt to different forms with ease.”

“So if he is able to get the rift open—“

“No, he won’t just turn into anyone.” Bill lets out an almost bitter laugh. “He’s vain as anything, you saw the way he was with Dottie. He’s got forms he favors and he’ll turn into one of those. But, we’re not opening the rift, so it’s not really an issue that we—“

“We’re going to open the rift,” Ford announces as he walks into the kitchen.

“Oh, look,” Bill glances to Dipper, “your uncle’s gone crazy.”

[ickyguts]

Just a fun refsheet I made for funsies with a collage to boot. I really like drawing the two in contrast, and man, drawing hands is fun.

[nero-neptune]

thinking about scars...

[bonestrouslingbones]

btw one of the things i want to do when i really rap up atbb for real is spontaneously get the energy at will to do actual updated fullbodies of the main 4 since now i actually have the ability to draw them the way they look in my head & have the skills to put some more variety in their shapes. basically i wanna

[subarashiihibi]

you would not beliueve what im doing(actually being productive)

[tortademaracuya]

"Today I will finish the concept art for this character and digitallize these 3 background sketches and the UI and if I have time left the start screen and my presentation" girl you spent the entire day fighting for your life trying to finish the base for the character. Sit down.

[todayisafridaynight]

i'll probably be skipping stream today & tomorrow on account of my personal challenge to finish JE before you (<- absolutely not going to happen)

but while i'm here SHUT UP your headcanon is not icky :) though i can't really talk since i don't bring my own up very often either, and i honestly haven't even put that much thought into the logistics around it. anyway trans masato 🤝 trans wagi as personal coping mechanisms

DAWG you gotta finish it... idk how long youve had it but prob longer than me cmon now gamer i know you can do it ✊

trans masato is just funny because Like Everything I Do it just started as me joking about scenes from the game and then the ending happened and i was like Oh Lol It's Not A Joke Anymore I Think

I DONT USUALLY SUBSCRIBE TO TRANS HCS EITHER THAT WHY IT ICKY TO MEAJLWKJL but thank you. i promise to only mention it once every five months

[evandore]

im going to lose it i drew a little . not quite comic its only one page but theres multiple panels of diff shots of the scene over-layed the Main panel. and its from one of the scenes from joys story - theres three different angles of her hands across the panels with the Center one being a close-up as shes holding something. and i sketched it and came back after a few hours and fucking realized. I DREW HER HAND BACKWARDS !!!!!!!!!!!! her thumb was on the WRONG side and ohhhh my god it looked so good. actually genuinely loved it and now i have to REDO IT !!!!! and its not even like i get away with it bc you SEE her hands multiple times and you know exactly how the fingers are placed God. God. this is what gets me.

[lucybellwood]

Lemme tell you a gay little story about an eagle.

Our town (~9,000 people) has a couple garages, but there's a big one on the main drag. My family has been going there for decades. I drive past it every day.

There used to be a huge pine tree on the corner of their lot, but last year it became a hazard and had to be taken down.

Shortly thereafter I drive by and see they've hired a guy to chainsaw sculpt the stump into a bald eagle.

Birds own my heart, but nationalism makes me twitchy. I withhold outright condemnation of the eagle, but I'm skeptical. (The original owner—an objectively Good Dude—sold the business to a younger couple a few years ago, and I don't have any knowledge of their whole deal.)

Then it turns out someone on staff is really into making costumes for the eagle. Every holiday. Every month. Stuffed turkey, witch costume, menorah headpiece, bunny ears. These people love to dress their bird.

The changing of the eagle suit becomes a source of joy every time I drive through town.

Until June, when the eagle is bare.

Now look, maybe I'm expecting too much asking my garage to celebrate Pride. But this is a small town. Every time I drive by that stupid eagle—this thing that has previously brought me so much joy—I feel hurt. I feel reminded that there are plenty of people in my liberal bubble who don't consider my community worthy of celebration. I drive to work, I feel bad. I drive home, I feel bad. The eagle is mocking me.

Then my A/C quits working.

So I book an appointent to bring my car in—and realize what I have to do.

I pick all this up at a thrift store for under ten bucks. I print the shirt with some weird heat-transfer fabric crayons I find in a cupboard. I loop gold elastic around the sunglasses and pray they'll fit on the eagle's head. (It is also important to draw your attention to the price of the feather boa.)

(Nice.)

My reasoning is thus: if I show up with a complete costume ready to go, someone will have to look me in the eye and say "We don't believe in that," at which point I'll be finding a new garage. But if they let me dress the eagle, then people in town get to have the joy I've been missing since the start of the month.

I listen to a lot of hype-up jams on my way over. I hate confrontation. I also don't wanna have to find another garage. I want to believe that this decision isn't actively antagonistic, but I'm not particularly hopeful.

I talk through the A/C issue with the guy at the desk, hand over my keys, then take a deep breath.

"Who's in charge of the eagle?"

"Oh, that's all Dylan. Second bay from the end."

I walk down the row of hydraulic lifts and find a disarmingly smiley middle-aged man pouring fluid through a funnel. I introduce myself and explain that, since the Pride parade is this Sunday and the eagle seems to be missing a costume, I have taken the liberty of making one myself, and can I get his blessing to go put it on?

Dylan grins this absolutely giant grin and goes

"Oh hell yeah."

So that's what's up now.

Happy Pride.

[beast-of-the-void]

.

[yuumei-art]

Unreachable

Wandering mind, full of creation

Meandering lines, lost in elation 

Each stroke, I broke a little inside

Each fate, I hate. My will defied

I painted this in Feb 2022 about what it's like to be an artist with repetitive strain injury. In 2008, When I was 18, I made my first comic titled 1000 Words, it was about an artist helping a little girl with a broken family similar to my own. It received such positive feedback that I changed my Environmental Science major at UCBerkeley to Art major. Ever since then, my goal has been to tell stories with my art. Stories that are important to me. My next comic, Knite, was about a boy who wants to put the stars back into the polluted skies of China, my homeland. The comic after that, Fisheye Placebo, is a cyberpunk story about living in the age of technology, about fighting censorship and propaganda.

Unfortunately, I never got to finish Knite nor Fisheye Placebo. By the time I was 24, I was drawing day and night with no regards to my health. Not only did I get repetitive strain injury in my drawing hand, but my entire health suffered. My roommates had to rush me to the ER after fainting one night. I remember looking at my swollen right hand, my fingers like sausages, not even able to hold a pen, and just cry.

I've gone to the doctors and physical therapists. One told me I have Lupus (I do not), and another told me to put ice on it. More recently, I met a friend who happens to an amazing physical therapist and he was able to help me regain a lot of use of my hand. At my worst, I could only draw an hour a week, but now I am able to draw 2 hours a day. My hand is unlikely to fully heal, but I'm so grateful to regain what I have.

To my fellow artists who suffers the same, please know you're not alone. I can't promise that it'll get better, and it's cliche to say don't give up, but I want to keep hoping that no matter what the world throws at us, we will continue to make art.