#it’s so well drawn hhhhh

[alieninside]

Lesbians literally never miss drawing women, I always can immediately tell it was a lesbian who drew them I love it their so pretty

Some of the first mariadelines I ever drew <3

[divinelolita]

AHEM

im the best requester here no one needs to mf bother cuz like🥰

ANYWAY

imma get 20 chicken nuggets(bill kaulitz fic or headcannons i do not caree) where bill n male reader r alr dating n shit and bills been hiding the fact he is so obviously the hottest blood sucking demon on the planet(vampire) and reader prolly cuts himself or smth and this mf bill smells that shit UP and ends up trying to help reader but just licks the blood and starts begging for moreee🥰🥰

(if u wanna add smth where they're fucking and reader says bill can have some of his blood only if he's good- BDJXDKDBDIDBEOEB)

ahem anyways add wachu want ofc🥰

VAMPIRE BILL X READER

HIII HUN 😇hhhhh ewww why is asking for blood so cringey i can't

(Contains some nsfw themes so if you don't like that don't read)

"Are you sure you don't wanna sit by the window, Bill? You look cold.."

M/N asked, tossing a tomatoes back and forth in his hands. He glanced over to where Bill sat, in the corner perched on the seat farthest from the window. "Here let me..." M/N began, going over to open the curtains of their window to allow the sunlight to flow in. "NO!" Bill choked out, heart thumping as he saw M/N stop mid step, looking at Bill with concern. Bill cleared his throat, giving what he hoped was a comforting smile. "I erm.. No. I'll be fine, just focus on the food...yeah?"

M/N nodded hesitantly, tossing the tomatoes onto the cutting board as he grabbed the knife from the drawer. "Alright love.. If you get too cold get my jacket from the living room." M/N didn't understand why Bill didn't like the windows in the dining room. Hell, he didn't like any windows in their house. They never went to the beach, but Bill did tell him he burned quickly in the sun with sunscreen or without it...

M/N shook his head to himself, grabbing the knife in hand as he held the red tomatoe, dicing it into small slices. He hummed to himself, glancing over his shoulder to where the pasta was cooking. "Bill, do you mind taking it off the stove..?" he asked, cupping the tomatoe slides in his hands and putting them on a seperate plate, before taking another tomatoe in hand to repeat the process.

Bill nodded, smiling softly as he walked over to M/N. He passed by, turning the stovetop off and putting the pot on a different burner. "Agh, shit!" he heard M/N curse, hissing under his breath. Bill spun around, about to ask M/N what had happened before he looked down, to where M/N cut himself on his fingertip. He watched as the crimson droplets rolled down M/N's finger, his heartbeat speeding up as he felt his fangs pulse with need.

M/N put the knife down, letting it clang against the cutting board. Bills eyes glanced over at the knife, the sprinkle of blood along the tip of the utensil. Bills hands twitched as he held back, wanting to lunge onto M/N and suck the blood out, the metallic taste that would linger in his mouth...

M/N sighed, about to start walking to the bathroom where they kept their band-aids, but Bill stopped him, his fingers digging into M/N's forearm. M/N looked at him with confusion, turning his body slightly to Bill. "Darling..?" he trailed off, watching how Bill looked down at his finger, slightly squeezing the finger making more blood spill out. M/N winced quietly, it didn't hurt that much but it still stung.

"M/N...Let me help you..?" Bill asked quietly, looking at M/N with eyes full of zealousness and...lust? M/N could only tilt his head, eyes squinting slightly as concern etched on his face. "What do you mean Bill...?" he questioned. The blood had trickled to the base of his finger now, and he could have sworn he could hear Bills heartbeat. Bills eyes nearly welled with tears, this was so drawn out..he just wanted to..

"Let me taste it.."

M/N nearly pulled his hand away, if not for the strong grip of Bill. Oh my god it was all making sense now...how Bill was so fearful of the sunlight, how Bill avoided taking pictures with him, why Bill was always so cold..how Bill was so damn pale. How had he misses this.. "Taste it, huh?" M/N questioned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Bills breath hitched as he whined quietly, trying to pull the finger closer to his lips. The strong scent of metal wanted up his nose and he could feel his fangs getting longer, feeling the points against his tounge as he licked his lips.

"Fuck, yeah..." he whispered, M/N's finger was inches away from his face. Yet M/N pulled his finger away, but still holding his fingers up so Bill could cleary see the red trail. "Please.." Bill choked, a sob almost escaping his throat as he felt himself grow hot, shuffling his legs. M/N made a fake face of sadness, pouting as he teased the vampire. "'Awwh...thats all? C'mon, speak up."

Bill groaned in frustration, tears prickling his eyes. "Please... Please M/N," he begged, legs quivering beneath him, "L-let me taste it...and I'll do anything you say I swear-"

"Anything?" M/N hastily cut Bill off, Looking him dead in the eye as he inched his finger closer. "Yes! Yes anything! Just please I.." Bill sobbed, his fangs pulsing uncontrollably as his heart beat faster. M/N could only chuckle, muttering a soft "Good boy.." as he lowered his finger right in front of Bill. Bill immediately took his finger in hand, sinking his fangs into it. M/N hissed, pleasure mixing with pain.

He watched as Bill kitten licked the blood, lapping up and down his finger as he sucked harder, moaning and whimpering softly. Eventually M/N's cut was clean, not a flick of blood in sight. Bill felt himself grow more desperate, the smal amount of blood he took not being enough. "M/N.." he whimpered, begging silently. He didn't necessarily want M/N to hurt himself again, like purposely cutting his finger, but he just needed more and...

"Go to the bedroom." M/N muttered, gently pushing Bill in his chest towards the stairs. Bills cock throbbed in his boxers at his words, feeling all sorts of euphoric. Yet he couldn't help but ask.. "W-what about the pasta?" he asked meekly, although he was already on the first step of the stairs. He knew M/N had been talking about this dish for days, desperately wanting to make it for Bill so he himself could taste it.

But M/N only shook his head. "I'll make it another time. Maybe if you go upstairs like a good boy I'll give you what you want, yeah?" he spoke out, looking at Bill with a devilish glint. Bill didn't need to hear anothervword, nearly tripping on his feet as he rushed into their bedroom.

[bonsiii-art]

I know I'm probably super late to say this but THE HOW YOU HAVE DRAWN THE MILLENNIAL TREE COSTUME IS PERFECT IT'S BEAUTIFUL IT'S HHHHH *dies* (Yes I love Millennial Tree I need him on the kingdom game so bad)

OMGG THANK YOUUU o(≧∀≦)o 💕💕💕 Happy to meet another tree god lover!! It's wishful thinking but can you imagine if when they release Millennial Tree, he'll get a costume as well? God, I hope it ends up really pretty... (o′┏▽┓｀o)

[cleromancy]

on top of just like. needing to go to get blood drawn i should. probably-definitely see a cardiologist for the weird shit my heart has been doing like there is definitely arrhythmias i need to get checked out hahaaaa. but iam like. really afraid theyre going to tell me i have to get off my stimulants which are currently. The Only Medication That Helps At All and I've tried enough other psych medications that i can say with confidence that i can say with confidence that if they take me off these meds i might as well lay down and die. but also it might just be something that isnt a big deal either like im fairly certain ive got vitamin deficiencies i need managed lol so. i gotta go!! and ive been making this same post for like. months lol. and i keep not going to the doctor. Hhhhh

[mozart-the-meerkitten]

Here’s part two of my post about Peet’s introduction in The Wingfeather Saga show episode 2 “The Mysterious Map”! (no spoilers unless you haven’t seen the episode)

So Peet and Janner leave Glipwood Forest and Peet grandly- but without words- presents the ball back to the assembled children outside.

also I have emotions about Leeli saying “Hi Mr. the Sockman!” and waving to him help

You could write a whole other essay probably about the kids varied responses in this scene. Most of them look bored or annoyed to see Peet, and interestingly enough, none of them are afraid. You’d think that a crazy guy who runs around fighting street signs (true story) and talking to himself in gibberish would make a group of lone kids a little nervous, but he doesn’t. Which, to me says that he’s presented such a harmless persona around town that the kids see him and are just like, “oh it’s that weird guy again.” (which is pretty much Janner, Tink and Leeli’s reaction when we’re introduced to Peet in the book).

Also I’d just like to take a moment and point out Sara’s face: she looks like such a little leader and so stern and almost fierce and it’d be adorable and funny on another kid’s face but Sara, hhhhh oh Sara and what that girl goes through, what she becomes, and getting to see the tiniest glimpse of that here is just *chef’s kiss* (all I can think of is the scene where she meets Artham in book 3)

ANYWAY so here’s the second time Peet bows

It’s interesting that he’s not smiling here. You’d think that, with the image he normally presents of just being a goofy crazy guy he’d be grinning or something. But he’s not. He just looks sad and tired. And this is after we saw him smile at Janner and even laugh a little after protecting him. (And in the first episode he also smiles at Janner) It makes me wonder if he smiled a little at Leeli when he came out of the forest and she said hi to him before looking sad again (because he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay with the kids long).

Because while Peet is always happy to see the Igiby kids (and hopefully they continue to show this) he’s unbearably sad when he has to leave them.

(also oh my goodness put him out in the light and he does not look well at all someone please help him-)

And then Podo shows up. And he gives this look to Peet:

Just a casual death glare thrown across a field, but anyway, look at the effect it has on Peet:

He goes from this, where he looks strikingly noble, head up, eyes lifted, eyebrows raised. He doesn’t look happy, exactly, but he looks almost… hopeful.

And then after Podo glares at him he shrinks back and looks like this:

He has visibly drawn in on himself- tucked his chin/head down, eyes downcast, shoulders hunched, eyebrows drawn together. He looks like a chastised child, like Podo just yelled at him instead of looked at him.

Obviously these scenes are telling us that Peet and Podo have a history together, and that whatever that history is Podo hates Peet and doesn’t want him anywhere near his family (Peet notably keeps a distance from the kids after this moment, he hangs back and only watches them longingly, with a deep sadness in his eyes). It’s also showing us that Podo has some sort of authority over Peet, an ability to cow him into submission. Because Peet isn’t a coward, we just saw that in the forest when he leapt between Janner and danger! And we know Peet can be fierce, because we saw how he looked when he did that. And yet Podo has made him look like a beaten puppy with just one glare.

Peet looks like he expects retribution for what he did (and he’s done… nothing?) and he’s right to, as people who have read the books know. And listen, Podo is a great character and I love him, but how he treated Peet is objectively awful and it makes me very angry.

Anyway, the kids have their farewell conversations (and Peet noticeably doesn’t fade from the background of these, you can see him hanging back and looking sad when Sara and Janner are discussing zibzy points) but Janner doesn’t forget whatever just happened. He looks back twice and finds Peet watching him from the trees with the most dejected heartbreaking expression:

And here’s my final note about the lighting: Peet is at the edge of the forest which is in deep shadow, but him and the tree he’s by are in the light. There’s still some faint glimmer of hope in him for a second, and he’s still solidly being framed as good and noble.

But then-

As Janner watches, he goes back into the dark.

Alright Mozie, you’re probably saying, explain the light and dark thing you’ve been going on about.

Gladly.

The darkness here represents a number of things. It’s showing us that Peet is good, yes, and it’s telling us something else too. Peet is lost. When he is with the Igiby children he is in the light, he can think, he can even be happy. When he doesn’t have them he is in the darkness, trapped in his own mind, a prisoner to his thoughts, trauma, shame and pain. He needs them to break out of that darkness. And they need him. Oh do they need him.

It’s showing us that the Igiby kids are his light, and without them he is trapped in darkness.

TLDR; The Wingfeather Saga show is showing us that Peet is a complex character in approximately two minutes by showcasing his kindness, protectiveness, mental instability, deep sadness, loneliness, the fact that Podo hates him, and his connection to the Igiby children.

Can’t wait to see my boy again and hopefully write more long posts about him! *hugs Peet*

[potetosaradas]

Still thanks for writing the most toe curling, back arching, breath taking smut to ever exist as well as some tense mfing moments of heart wrenching psychological torture, a bitch needed to have her world shook a little, honestly I aim my drawn porn to have half the flare your written smut has 🙏

ANON SALJKDFAJKDGK HELLO???

THANK YOU FOR SAYING SUCH NICE THINGS OMFG TT-TT

LEMME SEE THE PORN U DRAW >:O I BET ITS FUEGO DUDE

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this fic ; u ; i honestly was swinging really hard between deleting it/not posting it at all, so im super happy you enjoyed reading hhhhh ; u ;

[klunsgod]

didn't expect this to be a PSJ comic, did you? (well it's in the same style of mouse-drawn MS Paint... hhhhh...)

but let's look back into my aforementioned AU document to see how i wrote Birdo.

mhm, mhm, mhm, radio station Satellaview, yes, yes... we gotta scroll more downward though...

i really need to get a move on with placing these dates. like, okay, lemme tell you how i got to some of the days, lemme indulge with you some AU writing i've got on me mind.

so, Super Mario World, after beating the Special World, it instantly becomes Fall. i'm using that entire season change to then work backward and forwards throughout the calendar

you can see i, like, put Donkey Kong Jr. to take place during Father's Day. a little bit of narrative placement, a bit of cutey patootey, uugiewuugie date placement

as for why i chose for this to take place in the year of our The Penguins of Madagascar 2008? well remember Mario Kart 8's Toad Polar Expedition. that stuff begins in 2014, so i'm going off on that whole Grand Prix stint starting in 2014

so you minus the 4 birthdays Peach has had (Nintendo Puzzle Collection;Yoshi's Cookie, Mario Party;Peach's Birthday Cake, Mario Party 4 where everyone's birthdays were celebrated, New Soup Wii that begins on Peach's birthday...), account for the really fast growth spurts some species like Kongs and Goombas have, allow characters like Donkey Kong and Bowser Jr. to grow... and i'm minimizing it to have 6 years pass. 2008.

i can't confidently stamp every game yet because i'm still figuring out how many days have passed in each game. that's in a separate document of mine. so for now i'm dicking around in my timeline doc and placing fanfiction text highlighted in pink

i'm a big sucker for meticulous stuff like this, even more so when i'm in charge of it, ha ha. gotta know the rules before making fanfiction, some say

the birdo comic

read the other 14 panels below

Lees verder

[valentine-cafe]

Can i ask for a little scene with the poetic reaper and a reader who is the opposite of a brat? Like a darling (could be gn afab) who wants to please him and is soft with him but likes the praise and the sweet words like in the recent brat post?

I am not even a brat but still thought it was hot helpp kgjfjfk .

. ˚◞♡ 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖  ꒰ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒐𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒑𝒆𝒓  ꒱◞ ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ 781 talisen / afab!reader ꒱ you love treating your reaper boyfriend whenever you get the chance

𖹭. content warnings◞  explicit contentent . riding . penetrative sex . creampie . praise . desperate tal hhh . 0.5k

𖹭. receipts◞  he's sooooo hhhhh

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔 ꒱ m.list . guidelines . characters . lorebook ⊹ ۪ ࣪ 

“Come on Talisen, a-another, you ca- ahgn can do it”

All you hear is the heavy panting filling up the living room of the dorm. The heated, bated breaths mixed together as you ride your boyfriend. The way his pulsing cock hits every single sweetspot along your spongy walls has you rolling your eyes back, while you whine and cry on his thumb.

The babbling he manages to draw out of you is sending him into an absolute state of bliss — those beautiful, teardrop stained eyes and eyelashes has him almost pushing over the edge already.

“f-fuck-mgghh So good. Yeah that is it my darling, you are doin’ so good. Mhmmm, keep going-” He whispers against your ear, his free hand running along the soft, plush swell of your hip and grasps onto it gently before he starts guiding you slowly. Only huskily chuckling as you swat the hand away, furrowing your eyebrows at him and pouting.

“N- nghhno. Let me pleasure you without you guiding or doing anything, just lay back please gege,” you whine and gasp out quietly as your hips stutter against his — your second orgasm drawn from riding him. The size of him had your entire head spinning, you have no idea how you even take him all the way inside.

With a sigh, the reaper leans his head back and groans, moaning at the sensation of your walls squeezing against him and clenching. He really does have to hold back from taking hold of your hips and fucking his hips up into your like it is his last day alive.

“Baobei you are doing so good — keep going, yeah just like — mhnghhhn- fuckfuckfuckfuck— yes that, that is, oh fuck, oh death you are beautiful.”

“keep it going keep going like that, oh fuck yes— You are taking me so well my darling, taking all of m-hgnnnnnnnhnmmmm”

Eventually there are no words from the reaper, as he squirms beneath you, his hips thrusting up into you invoulinatrily, with sloppy and dazed movements you feel the warm cum squirting all over your gummy walls and send a rush of heat to your tummy again.

And all you have to do to get another one of those rushes out of the man is press down on his abdomen, a gasp escaping his lips as he shoots another, messy load into you. His hands grab onto your hips and before you know it you have been shifted to lay on your back, while the reaper pumps into you desperately, whining for you and salivating down on your shoulder.

Leaving behind clawmarks on the supple flesh the long talons cling onto.

“Death, I cannot nmghn I cannot do this anymore, let me pleasure you as well, Oh you have been doing so good gonna fuck that pretty pussy full baobei, you deserve all of it — so goooooooooohngggghnddd.”

𖹭. taglist◞ wanna join the taglist? fill out this form

𖹭. remember◞ you make a writer's day every time you like, reblog and/or comment on their piece. if you enjoyed my work, please considering doing so<3

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒔 ꒱ tip jar . masterist ⊹ ۪ ࣪

[hinamie]

hi hina! i hope you've been well 🩵 for the art asks: 5, 6, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 22, 23 🎨🖌️🖼️

Mariam !!! It's so good to hear from you I hope you've been well also <3 <3 <3 this will get long

5. Anything you haven’t drawn yet but want to?

oooooh I've had an idea in my head for an s/e piece inspired by visuals from the blood sweat and tears mv for like 5 years but no matter how hard I throw myself at it I can never get it to look right so i've just been waiting until i manage to catch lightning in a bottle i guess :< (((I also found a few notes in an old "to draw" folder from like 2 years ago that include but are not limited to: jjk band au with guitarist brothers yuuji+sukuna/bassist megu/drummer nobara; gojo in crocs. ))))

6. Which artists inspire you right now?

HHHHH its the same crowd as usual i am so hides face in hands bc they intimidate me /pos :'))))) vacuumchan, ohprcr, gloomyhome, trickywagon, meru90 to name a few ANYWAY RUNNING HIDING

15. Biggest artist pet peeve?

this is a tough one im such a hater and everything inconveniences me ,,, when the perfect csp brush costs money >:C,, when u cant find reference from this One Specific Angle >:C,, when u dont realize youve merged the wrong layer until you've been working for hours and all of a sudden your folders are out of order and its a mess >:C SPEAKING OF MERGING LAYERS hot take i think that they should invent a way to let u merge layer modes without converting them all to the same type. let me put my multiply with my glow dodge !!! cowards.

16. What’s the most daunting part of your process?

rendering :') so much of it is trusting the process and there are so many ugly phases that make u wonder if u were ever good at art to begin with

17. What inspires you?

hdsj i mean im a fanartist so i think it goes without saying that I'm mainly inspired by the content I like ,, but i also am very inspired by fashion !!!! saw a guy walking the other day with a hoodie that said CASH FOR SOULS | COLD HARD CASH | CA$H4SOULZ.com and i had to take a picture of it like a creep bc tht + Sukuna ??? hello??? anyway yea ive got a pinterest board dedicated to insp-y clothes and a notes folder dedicated to jotting down cute outfits I see in public

18. Do you have any larger projects you’d like to pursue?

I've always wanted to do speedpaints ! but even more than that I want to do something aNYTHING with my ocverse but alas...time.....planning....plot.. so in the meantime they simply live in my head bouncing around like globs of wax in a lava lamp

19. Favourite character(s) to draw?

megumi jjk gojo jjk sukuna/yuuji jjk kotori love live rina love live ichigo tokyo mew mew + shiro n eden from My Brain ,,, im crying the duality of my fav chars is either feral shounen twink or idol/magical girl and eden is both simultaneously actually

22. When is your prime time to work on your art?

usually mid to late afternoon but it depends on the season because it gets so HOT in my room in the warm months which I dread >:( How it works is if I start in mid-late afternoon then I'm able to hit my stride and draw basically through the entire evening (also because of the aforementioned Heat I vastly prefer drawing in fall/winter because that means I don't have to evacuate my room at 4pm sdfhdgshd)

23. Do you listen to music or watch shows while you work? If so, what’s your favourite?

I have to have music or something on while I'm drawing or the fans in my cintiq will drive me insane . Sometimes i listen to music that matches/drastically contrasts the piece I'm working on but most of the time I can't be bothered and just throw on my youtube mix which consists embarassingly of mainly vocaloid and utau ,, though sometimes if a piece is kicking my ass and I need to just hunker down and get shit done then I'll put the entire discography of an artist I like on shuffle (some favs include 1D/waterparks/former vandal/harumaki gohan) and for some reason the Predictability activates intense productivity mode?? I cant explain it gdsj its like I have music on that I like but it's not jumping around between artists so I don't get too distracted or excited whenever the song changes

[sugarcoated-lame]

Katie, I’m so in love with professor Bradley, it hurts 😭😭

He has skipped the top three buttons and from your seat beside him, you’ve got a faint glimpse of the gold cross necklace he wears.

As well as the dip between the muscles on his chest, dusting of brown hair covering his golden skin and the constellation of sun-kissed freckles you’re growing ever-familiar with.

your descriptions of him are always just so beautiful and never fail to have me swooning 🫠 honey is stronger than me, bc I’d probably be climbing over that table and pouncing on him

“I’m a little bit offended that you think I can’t do better than Roman erotica if I was trying.”

hhhhh I just love him and I loved that Bradley brought honey to that lecture! It’s so fun seeing her grappling with her desires and whether or not she should give into them, and how she’s so conflicted because being with bradley feels good, but she’s unsure if it is a good thing.

Bradley hasn’t tried to make any of this happen. It’s not like he sought you out. And yet, it all keeps happening — like puzzle pieces falling into place.

I just live for the undeniable chemistry that bradley and honey share, how even if they’re maybe not always on the same page, they’re both so drawn to each other when they’re still not entirely sure why 🥹

“I thought maybe seeing her talk might convince you to stay in school… in my postgraduate program.”

And I know he said it doesn’t have to be his class, but BRADLEY WANTING HER TO JOIN HIS POSTGRAD PROGRAM ?????

I’m fine 🥲

“Look, it doesn’t have to be my class. I just wanted you to think about what comes after this.”

“My wedding.” You remind him quietly.

“After that I’ll support Malcolm and—“

“Christ, is that what you want? — You want to spend your life picking up his dry cleaning and cooking his dinner?”

It’s so easy to forget that honey is supposed to be getting married when I’m so busy swooning and falling in love with professor Bradley lmfao, so this part hit me like a slap to the face 😂 but I really enjoy the way Bradley challenges her and gets Honey to question these ideas that she’s built her whole life around, and tries to show her that she has the potential to do more—and be more than just a wife if she wants to be, and letting her know that it’s okay to want things for herself.

“I don’t know. A myth.” You close your eyes and turn your face towards his neck. After waiting all night to do so, the first inhale is exactly what you wanted. You hum and pull closer to him. His hand finds a spot safely, almost platonically at the small of your back.

I love all the little moments of casual intimacy between them—this, bradley’s hand on her knee at dinner, holding hands as they walk around the city, bradley pulling her close with an arm around her shoulders, her leaning against him during the lecture—i just love to see how clearly comfortable they’ve become with one another—at least when honey doesn’t think he wants to sleep with her lmaoo 😭😭

this was such a fun chapter, I really just love these two so much and love watching how the dynamic between them continues to change and grow through the series! I’m so excited to get caught up on the next couple chapters!! 💗💗

The Odyssey | 1.1 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

One step forwards, two steps back. You’re just not on the same page.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance (professor / student relationship), age gap (22 / 33), swearing, infidelity, making out, honey has a meltdown every time she thinks Bradley wants to have sex with her but very much wants him to want to have sex with her, bradley dislikes her fiancé, deception, also inaccuracies in the timeline of Pompeii and the telling of Greek mythology, 18+ minors dni, wc: 4.7k

…

It’s the last day of June. Under the table, his hand is on your knee and above it, you’ve started to memorize the delicate pattern his smile lines cast around his temples. A bottle of mostly empty Malbec sits between you, the centre of his lips is tinted a sweet red.

His fingers curl into your thigh, eyes widening in mock offense as he leans in close enough for you to inhale that honey, amber, cedar medley of his cologne. You’ve been meaning to ask him which fragrance he wears; it’s classic, it could be too strong but he seems to have hit the perfect balance when applying it. It makes you want to turn your face into the curve of his neck and fall asleep right there.

“Okay, now you’re just trying to upset me,” He taunts with a grin on his face, shaking his head in dramatized disbelief. His thumb has been trailing a complex pattern around the curve of your knee for the better part of ten minutes. “Come on — I taught you this two days ago.”

Something about the age of Cicero, the supposed master of Latin prose. You remember the lesson — well, you remember being present for it. He’s right, two days ago. Right after arriving in Florence.

That first afternoon, Bradley had seemed restless. Leaving Natasha behind, you had presumed. Being cooped up in a hotel room trying to study was the last thing he had needed, and you know that he likes showing you around. As soon as you had asked, he had once again found the perfect spot for your lesson.

The corner of your lips twitch as you think of being nestled away in that corner of the library with Bradley. On a beautiful day in late June, it was practically deserted beside the two of you.

He stares at you across the table, seeming to enjoy the show of you trying to think back to what exactly it was he had been talking about.

The smile tugging at his lips that afternoon in the library as he had kissed down the column of your neck, lips grazing the collar of your polo shirt, fingers bracing against your thighs politely. His voice deep, and low, respectful of the library’s standards, “His philosophical works were the basis of moral philosophy during the Middle Ages.”

You swallow softly, crossing one knee over the other.

Across from you, that brown hued gaze flickers briefly downwards. It’s hardly a scandalous dress. A soft pink colour, cowled in the middle, dipping just lower against the centre of your chest than you would normally allow. The summer heat, or this newfound feeling in your stomach — one of them has you practically glowing. From the second you stepped out this evening, Bradley has been admiring this dress.

Either way, when he looks back up, he knows that you think you just caught him staring at your chest. He might have taken a glance in that direction. Unashamed, he smiles again, more candidly this time.

“Is this why you were late back this afternoon?” His fingers stray from the safety of your knee until the chiffon material is curling between his fingertips.

Caught. The look spreads itself so quickly across your face that you couldn’t lie to him even if you wanted to. The class was given an hour to roam the city today after the morning lecture — you had been a short measure later than everyone else.

And here you sit, in your reason for being late, staring back at him like he just caught you with your hand in the cookie jar.

His gaze flickers down again, the conversation about your lack of attention and the dull topic of the golden age of Roman literature long forgotten, and brushes at the hem of your dress with his thumb.

“I like it,” Though the look on his face has already given that away, it makes your mouth tug at the corners anyway. “Should I have worn a tie?”

Malcolm would have worn a tie, and a jacket. You would have expected nothing less from him. Bradley is sitting opposite you in a faded yellow shirt made of something comfortable and not stiff — probably a linen blend. He has skipped the top three buttons and from your seat beside him, you’ve got a faint glimpse of the gold cross necklace he wears.

As well as the dip between the muscles on his chest, dusting of brown hair covering his golden skin and the constellation of sun-kissed freckles you’re growing ever-familiar with.

“No.” You answer him decidedly, tearing your eyes away from his tanned chest to look him in the eye. This time, he caught you right back. His lips tug at the corners, and he almost fights it, and then he lets his mouth stretch into a smile.

His lips are a set pink. You’ve never liked facial hair but him without the always neat dusting above his lip is unthinkable. Tonight, the two of you shared that bottle of Malbec. His mouth will taste of the notes of cherry and blackberry.

His fingers brush the underside of your knee, featherlight. “Let’s take a walk.”

It’s late already, now that the two of you have finished your dinner. Bradley’s already regretting making group dinners mandatory now that he finds himself having to wait until afterwards to take you out, but in this moment, he doesn’t mind. It just means that there is even less chance of running into someone that you know.

The city is quieter by the time he slips his palm into yours, an instinctual move that neither one of you will address. Your fingers squeeze against his. It’s not until afterwards, when he turns his head to look down at you quickly, that he remembers it shouldn’t all feel this normal.

He should be ashamed of himself; afraid of being caught with you. He’s far from it. He’s arrogant enough to know that his students will be getting drunk on cheap spirits in the taverna he left them at, and that he’s got you all to himself.

“What do you want to do?” He asks you. He’s got an idea in his head already, that he’s not so sure you’ll find as interesting as he will.

“You’re the expert.” You answer calmly.

He smiles like that was the answer he was hoping for, then pulls you closer and lets go of your hand to wrap his arm around your almost bare shoulders. His lips press softly to the top of your head.

“I walked by a place earlier that I thought maybe we could stop by,” He explains as he starts to walk, looking up at the waning crescent centring the stars over the city. He doesn’t mention to you that there’s a little more to it than that. You follow his lead, looking up at the stars above these ancient rooftops. “Counts as school work in my book.”

You make a sound of complaint beside him, leaning your head back against his bicep and exhaling with a dramatic sigh. Without having to look, you know he’s grinning beside you as he curls his arm tighter around your neck and drags you closer.

“Be nice, honey,” He whispers jokingly into your hair. “Just give it a chance.”

At that point, you should have guessed that he was up to something. Tucked under his arm, wondering exactly which undertone in his cologne makes it so entrancing, you’re hardly jumping for joy when he leads you up the steps and into an art gallery. It’s the kind of art gallery that you don’t need a suit or tie to get into — so can’t be that impressive.

Pompeii is one of the few words on the poster board that Bradley whisks you past that you understand.

“We’re going to Pompeii in a couple of weeks, isn’t this cheating?” You turn your head to look up at him and he just shrugs, taking you in his stride as he leads you right up to the first floor. Despite this being a temporary exhibition, he seems to know exactly where he’s going.

He rounds the corner and tightens his hold on your shoulder as you’re met with a canvas featuring a rather blurrily drawn woman bent over some kind of seat, and a man standing behind her.

To the right of that is a woman pictured straddling a man, his head thrown back against the sheets. Bradley lifts his hand from your shoulder and tucks it safely over your eyes.

“That’s not what we’re here for.” His tone is almost soothing, like he’s expecting you to turn and run for the door as he uncovers your eyes again. The opposite actually, you frown slightly and tip your head to understand the angle of the oil painting. He guides you swiftly onwards.

As you pass by, you can see that this room is filled with similar art. Some of it is weathered, not quite preserved, or outright broken. All of it is erotica.

All too quickly, he leads you into the next room in the gallery and swiftly off to the side. This room is already filled with people sitting in chairs, and at the front there’s an older lady with hair down to her waist and glasses that cover most of her face.

“She’s a classicist at Cambridge.” Suddenly his lips are brushing your earlobe and he’s nudging you back against the back wall of the room. “I think you might like her way of explaining things a little better than mine.”

He turns his head towards the front, you turn your head to look at him. His way of explaining things is just fine. Still, you turn your head back to watch the lecturer, and lean against Bradley’s side.

“As many of you know, during my team’s ongoing works in Pompeii, we are constantly able to determine more and more about the neighbouring cities of both Pompeii and Herculaneum. On a visit this past March, my team worked primarily in a building: the lupanar, or brothel.”

You shoot a look up at Bradley. He drops his hand down to your waist and pinches playfully at your skin, making you jolt into him.

“Pay attention.” Bradley whispers to you, smiling towards the front.

“Lupanar in Latin translates almost directly to ‘wolf's den,’ and lupa, she-wolf, was a common term for female prostitutes at this time.” The lecturer goes on.

She’s an interesting woman, maybe around your mother’s age, talking about sex and phalluses and erotica with a level of candor that you simply weren’t expecting. The people in this room are hanging on her every breath.

She goes on to explain more about what sets Pompeii and Herculaneum apart from other Augustan era Roman cities. As Bradley’s textbooks prove, Augustan Rome could be somewhat prudish in the major cities. Essentially, with their seaside location and their distance from the eyes of the emperor, modern theories tend to lean towards the abundance of erotica being simply a result of the Romans getting hot and heavy in their summer homes.

Bradley would scold you for phrasing it that way. You’re cutting corners and leaving things out, but that’s the gist of what she’s saying.

As much as you’re enjoying the fact that he wants you, specifically, to stand here and see this with him — you must admit that you’re waiting for the point to hit you a little bit.

Brothels quite clearly aren’t your kind of thing.

Then, she gets to the point. “So far in the study of Rome, we have tended to interpret erotic decorations in rooms to be signals of a brothel. The discoveries we are making now, tell us even more so, that there was a safe space for sex inside regular homes.”

Is that what he’s trying to tell you?

You turn your head and look up at him, watching the way he listens to the lecture. He hasn’t even noticed you staring just yet, he’s so interested.

Exhaling softly, you push closer to him. Heat courses through you, uncomfortable like an itch. If he wants you to feel safe having sex with him, if that’s why he brought you here — you’re not so sure that’s a good thing.

When you close your eyes and ignore the speech being given, and picture yourself in that library two days ago, with that dark look in his eyes and his lips sucking at your neck… it’s a nice feeling. It felt good. You would do it again in a heartbeat.

When you think further back, to the night he knelt beside your bed and buried his mouth between your legs, it makes you shiver, but not in a bad way. In a cold and hot all at once, conflicted kind of way. That felt good too.

He feels good. His arm on your shoulder, his weight in your bed, the way it feels when he grins at you. It all feels good.

Maybe that’s not such a good thing.

After all, he may only want one thing in return. With this ring on your finger, what he wants is no longer yours to give away — you’ve promised it to someone else.

You turn your head and rest it against his chest, your cheek hugging the soft linen of his shirt.

“By 79 C.E., by the eruption of Mount Vesuvius, Christianity had begun to usurp the formerly polytheistic Roman Empire. With the rise of Christianity came a clear shift in the way sex was viewed culturally. With conceptions of red becoming more obscene into the 19th century—“

“Bradley, can we go?” You tug at his shirt and break him from his focused listening.

He unwraps his arm from your shoulder and gently touches your hair, cupping the back of your head. “Sure. You okay?”

“Mhm. It’s just getting late.”

He seems content enough with that answer, taking your hand once again and letting you lead him down the steps. Each step you take, you know that you’re just one step closer to inviting him into your hotel room.

“I know I kinda threw you in at the deep end just then,” Bradley starts to talk, seeming not to notice the way you’re panicking at his side. “I just wanted you to see how impressive she is.”

“Yeah. She was cool.”

“Cool? — She’s a legend,” Bradley cranes his neck to get a look at your face, frowning as he feels you speed up and tug at his hand to bring him with. “Her studies into Greece and Rome won her a Nobel prize, baby.”

“That’s… impressive.” You wobble over the words, trying to give him what he wants in an answer. Bradley stops abruptly and tugs hard at your arm to make sure you do the same. You’re spun towards him sharply, stunned as you blink up at him.

“I know I probably should have warned you about the paintings, but—“

“Do you want to have sex with me?” You ask him.

Bradley notices the elderly couple passing behind you turn their heads and curses them silently for being just about the only ones around that would have even understood the absurdity of that question, then looks back down to you.

He stares, focused and unwavering for a moment.

“Yes,” He answers you calmly, still holding your wrist in his hand. “But that’s not going to happen, honey. Now, what’s the matter?”

“It’s not?” He’s surprised by the surprise in your voice. You see it on his face. He’s practically tracing his steps in front of you, trying to figure out at which point the two of you stopped being on the same page.

“I… baby, Your first time shouldn’t be with me.”

“I was going to say the same thing.” You exhale quietly, without missing a beat, feeling the panic in your chest start to drain finally. A different feeling pinches at your nerves, tingling in your chest that makes you fidget. Bradley stares back at you.

“Good.” He answers curtly. Maybe a little too quickly. He’s still holding on tight to your wrists.

“Yeah, good.” You try back, heat creeping along your skin and making your ears burn. You push onto your tiptoes and back down again, glancing down at him still holding you captive in his big paws.

He seems to notice at the same time, and swiftly drops his hold on you to instead hook a finger under your chin. “Okay, so you’re alright now?”

“Yeah.”

He swallows, then nods. As he turns away, he sticks his hand out for you to grab once again. For him this doesn’t change things — he has wanted to sleep with you and known that he can’t since the day you kissed him back in Verona.

For you, this is the first time you’ve ever heard him admit that he wants you. You knew, of course, by the way he touched you last week in Venice.

You slip your hand into his. Across cobbles, under the stars and string lights, he leads the way the short walk back to your hotel somehow without the need for a map.

This hotel doesn’t have an elevator, you climb three flights of stairs beside him and start towards your door. Heels along aged, dark wood floors. This time, your sole occupancy room isn’t at the end of the hall or on a different floor — it’s right in the middle. Sandwiched between the common bathroom, and Robin’s room.

As you open up your bag and dig for your key, you wonder how he’s going to say goodnight. After the time you had, you don’t want the end on this tone.

“Can I come in?” He asks softly, fully prepared to hear you tell him no. His hand reaches once more for the pale chiffon of your dress, his thumb familiarly trailing the seam at the small of your back.

“Yes.” You turn your head and meet his gaze over your left shoulder. He’s relieved to see you smile. A smile spreads across his cheeks, warm and flushed as the old door clicks open with a pained but compliant creak.

It almost looks like room service came. If Bradley didn’t know any better, he would say they had. The bed is meticulously neat, and all of your belongings are packed neatly ready for your travel day tomorrow.

“I feel like I need to explain why I took you to that exhibition.” Bradley closes the door behind him and sticks to it as you cross the room and sit on the edge of the double bed.

“Okay.”

“It’s not because I’m trying to fuck you.” Bradley wracks his hands through his hair, his back pinned to the door, his eyes searching the floorboards like he’s looking for his point. “I’m a little bit offended that you think I can’t do better than Roman erotica if I was trying.”

Bradley hasn’t tried to make any of this happen. It’s not like he sought you out. And yet, it all keeps happening — like puzzle pieces falling into place.

Still, his joke is enough to earn him a smile and a soft giggle at the same time. You lean back on your palms as your smile fades into an apology of its own.

Bradley takes a step away from the door and crosses the room to sit beside you. He opens his palm.

“If we had stayed, the end part of that seminar is about Greek influence on Roman culture — specifically Pompeii,” He watches as you rest your hand in his, looping your fingers through his. “I thought maybe seeing her talk might convince you to stay in school… in my postgraduate program.”

His fingers close around yours, squeezing softly as he turns his head to gauge your reaction. His worst case scenario was that you freak out — and that doesn’t happen, so his pitch is a success in his eyes.

“I didn’t even know you ran a postgrad.”

“It’s a research programme. It’s relatively new — I ran it a year ago, we didn’t get enough people enrolled to run in this year. Next year I have forty places and a waitlist. Mythology and Art; Poetry in Greek Culture.” You still haven’t told him no, it feels like that’s building to a yes.

Instead, your brows knit together slightly.

“I don’t know anything about mythology.”

“Yes you do,” Bradley argues. It really bites at him when you pretend to know less than you do. “Look, it doesn’t have to be my class. I just wanted you to think about what comes after this.”

“My wedding.” You remind him quietly. Now you aren’t looking at him, staring at your hands in your lap. He’s kicking himself for ruining the night but god, everything you say makes him want to argue even more.

“And after that?” He skips over the idea of letting you go entirely. It’s easier that way, to pretend that he doesn’t care that you’re still planning to get married.

“After that I’ll support Malcolm and—“

“Christ, is that what you want? — You want to spend your life picking up his dry cleaning and cooking his dinner?” Bradley stands up from the bed and paces away from you. Instantly, you throw your face into your hands and growl in frustration.

The thought crosses your mind like a camera flash. The alternative; seminars and art galleries, nights like this with Bradley. He probably doesn’t even get his clothes dry cleaned, probably just drops them all in the washer.

Your brows draw together. Bradley hates how often he has seen that wounded look on your face.

“I don’t have to want the same things that you want.” You croak out.

“No, you don’t, you’re right,” He won’t come any closer, he’s just standing there and dwarfing the doorframe behind him with his broad shoulders and long legs. He runs a hand roughly across his mouth. “But you should want something for yourself. Something that’s just yours. Something you care about, you know?”

There’s a beat of silence between you. At first, he thinks he has really ignited the fuse and that there’s a big argument coming. Then, all of the anger fades from your face and you throw yourself back against the bed, facing the ceiling and letting out a deep sigh.

“You think too much.” You mutter grumpily, draping an arm over your eyes and finally taking away the ugly warmth of the yellow-orange mismatched lampshade above your head.

Bradley agrees, in principle. This doesn’t stop him, though. He thinks again as he’s watching you lay there in the middle of the bed, with your arm covering your face, about how different things could be.

Even with your eyes closed and your forearm acting as a makeshift blindfold, you expect that he’s still standing by that door and planning out your future for you. It’s tiring.

With all of the thinking he’s doing, you expect him to have plenty to say by the time he’s done. Another lecture.

The air is sucked out of you as he plants his knees on either side of your thighs, grabs your forearms and pins then above your head. Eyes blown wide, you must look crazy. He looks beautiful. Smiling softly, inches from your face, his cross necklace spilled forwards from his shirt and dangling above your lips.

“I’ll stop.” He swears, eyes pooled with sincerity as his head dips with a soft nod. Your heartbeat thurs between the two of you; his thumb strokes at your wrists. “I’ll stop, if you just make me one promise.”

The playing field isn’t exactly level, here. You could be convinced to promise him just about anything when trapped with him looking down at you like this. Your lips twitch, but you won’t smile at him. One of his hands leaves your wrists, coming down to trail an index finger along your cheek.

“You’ll think about it. While you’re here, you’ll think about what comes next for you.” He’s gentle with you, leaning in close and kissing your lips chastely.

It’s just too tempting to roll your eyes at him.

Bradley abandons his hold on your wrists all together and grabs at your waist instead, pinching playfully as he scowls down at you. “Don’t you roll your eyes at me.”

“Fine, fine — you win.” Your lips crack into a smile, taking advantage of the newfound freedom to drape your arms around his thick shoulders and guide him in closer. Compliantly, he kisses your mouth.

Your tongue pokes out from between your lips and wets the flesh of your bottom lip, coating it in saliva, capturing Bradley’s total and absolute attention.

He lets his thumb follow the same path your tongue had, your saliva coating the rough pad as he trails it downward and catches hold of your chin.

The doe-eyed look on your face, the silk of your skin and the soft sheen of saliva sitting on the pad of his thumb has his mind reeling with possibility. You’re studying him too, recognising that same dark look in his eyes, trying to place it.

“You’ve gotta stop looking at me like that.” He whispers finally, his chest inflating with a deep breath, his throat tight as he finally swallows. Heat prickles at the back of your neck. Your eyes dart downward from his face, at his knees bracketing your thighs, and back up swiftly.

That’s it.

“Will you teach me something Greek, then?”

Teaching is truthfully the furthest thing from Bradley’s mind. The thought of grading bad papers isn’t even enough to stem the sudden rush of blood flow headed to his dick. He exhales above you, practically itching with the need to touch you.

The thing about Bradley is that he isn’t a stranger to casual sex, but he doesn’t sleep around. When someone has captured his attention, they’ve got all of him. He can’t imagine going out and finding someone to hook up with, but at the same time — he can’t keep spending the morning work time thinking about you with your hand shoved into the front of his jeans.

“Sure, kid,” He leans forwards and kisses your forehead, then rolls off of you and settles against your pillows with an arm tucked behind his head. “What do you want to know?”

You push off of your back, wrinkling your nose at his choice of pet name as you turn and settle at his side, laying your head on his chest.

“I don’t know. A myth.” You close your eyes and turn your face towards his neck. After waiting all night to do so, the first inhale is exactly what you wanted. You hum and pull closer to him. His hand finds a spot safely, almost platonically at the small of your back.

“Okay, uh…” He takes a moment to think, trying to remember his study material instead of the way your bare leg is brushing against his thigh. “I’ve got one. It’s from the second century… by Apuleius, in…”

You let him figure out the publication details, absently toying with the loose button in the middle of his shirt. It would be a quick fix, beyond easy to sew back on. You could fix it for him.

“So the myth is right in the middle of his book, and it’s there as an example of mise en abyme—“

You turn your head quickly, frowning disapprovingly back up at him. “Bradley, I just asked for a story.”

“Right,” He hums, shifting slightly and closing his eyes as he scratches awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Fine. The context might have been helpful, but fine… The story starts with a king, and the king has three very beautiful daughters. The most beautiful of his daughters is called Psyche, and she’s beyond beautiful — rivaling Aphrodite kind of beautiful.”

Right before your head settles against his clavicle, fitting perfectly against the curve of his broad shoulder. Your fingers follow the wrinkles in the linen on his shirt. Your leg is hooked just slightly over his thigh. Glancing upwards, he’s already watching your fingers dance across his chest. His lips pink, his cheeks warm, his eyes flicker up to yours.

…

Tags: @thedroneranger @batdanceq @cassiemitchele @himbos-on-ice @wkndwlff @bradshawsbaby @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @sihtricswife @callsignvenus @callsign-joyride @harper1666 @krismdavis @sheisanangell @sugarcoated-lame @kmc1989 @cherrycola27 @ahoyyharrington

[sleepinglionhearts]

happy birthday to the fictional love of my life ♡

[mandoposting]

The Clone Wars: Season 7, Episode 9 - "Old Friends Not Forgotten"

[jaekaicx]

guess what i just played

[aymmidumps]

“Oh, Neil came back. I didn’t think you would.”  “I made a different call this time.” “How interesting. How unexpected. Did it hurt a little?”

[chaomother]

Saying "come and take it" or "make me" to Shadow or Robotnik! Sonic only to regret it when they get up and aggressively walk towards you -///-

ALSO I KEEP ON THINKING ABOUT THAT ONE ASK WITH ROBOTNIK SONIC AND YOU ON HALLOWEEN HHHHH

I swear to god I'm gonna lose it and draw a pentagram on my bedroom floor just to have a little Halloween fun for myself

gonna make a deal with the devil and make him dress up as blue speedy mouse

the flickering of a long, black tail captured your attention as you stared in complete disbelief at the blue hedgehog sitting in the middle of your poorly drawn pentagram; your bedroom floor was covered in chalk, candles, and other inscriptions you thought would help. between his ears were two curved horns and sprouting from his back were equally pitch-black, bat-like wings.

"you finally summoned me, huh?" he spoke, leaning forward to examine your countenance with a coquettish smile, "it took you long enough!"

the lustful, thrilled gleam in his eyes had you writhing in your seat, warmth inundating your cheeks. "wait, wait! who are you? wasn't i summoning the devil?"

"sonic," he winked, before an imperious snicker fell past his lips, "did you really think you'd be able to get the king of hell at your doorstep with these cliche tactics?"

well, maybe not. you certainly didn't think you'd conjure up a hedgehog at the very least. "um, i'm [name]. are you just a normal demon than orrr?" you couldn't help but inquire, albeit tentatively.

another laugh overflowed from sonic's mouth as he twined his tail around your ankle—before promptly pulling you forward so that you slipped onto your back and he could spread your legs out.

"mm, close. i'm an incubus," sonic said as he swiped his tongue across his lips, the voracious appetite he kept locked away rising up from his core, "and, my dearest angel, i've been watching you for a long time."

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

wait wait wait- you think that was good angst??? dude!!! :'Dc

i can't even be pissed at u i thought i did a terrible job at it :') hhh i'm so happy x) <33333333333

[id in alt]