#mild artistic nude watch out

[sixrealmsbeneaththesea]

a return to an old thing.

my one and only art handle on deviantart has been rafleshia, based on that one big fucking mutant looking flower in asia, that has inspired many a plant monster in rpgs.

i made an actual character out of her for yet another of my one stories i haven't written yet lol. she's a maneater, she farts hallucinogens, she gets bigger when engorged on meat and bone and blood, and she accounts for one of domini's deaths (another oc).

there's almost a pieta quality to the pic. ref used was a statue from pinterest, interestingly not a pieta pic.

#artists on tumblr #sketch drawing #monster woman #rafflesia #dismemberment #mild artistic nude watch out #plant woman #oc #original character

[some-bunniii]

Lucifer with an artist reader

・❥ You’re hosting an art class, and the nude model is someone you never expected

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

xx: it’s a long one y’all 😭 we’re still in the pre-dating era! Slowburn, anybody? Forget the crumbs, have the whole loaf of bread, my swans ☺️

warning: brief mentions of nudity & mild swearing

After Lucifer’s initial tour of the hotel, he started coming around much more often.

He was beginning to reconcile with his daughter, and that meant making up for all the years he had missed out due to his self-isolation.

When Lucifer came to the hotel for Charlie, he always made time for you.

At first, when you had still been busy working away at the paintings for the hotel, he had used the excuse that he was just coming over simply to “admire the art.”

Nevermind that he crossed the entire hotel just to look at some paintings, but you never pried him about it. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t waiting in anticipation for his visits.

Sometimes, he would lean against the door frame in silence, watching as your brush glided across the surface of the canvas. He dared not to disturb you while you worked. Too afraid he’d cause you to slip up and place your brush in the wrong spot, ruining your piece.

He never would admit it, but the soft, feather-like strokes you made always seemed to lull him into a state of tranquil bliss.

If he had the opportunity to sit there for hours and watch you paint, he’d probably drift off into a peaceful sleep.

It was ASMR for the King of Hell.

You weren’t always sure whether he was admiring the painting, or you. You were too concentrated on making a leaf of a tree, or the surface of the water just right to trace his gaze.

You’d think with Lucifer being the embodiment of pride and his rank as ruler of the realm, he’d have demanded your attention instantly.

Instead, it was you who usually spoke first. “Are you going to sit down?” You’d tease with a warm smile, greeting him with a bat of your eyelashes as you soaked your brush with fresh paint.

“Of course, I just wanted to see your progress, it’s looks beautiful as always.”

You had hummed a thanks as he strode over to the flat cushion in the middle of the room, and collapsed in it. He had now claimed it as his personal spot ever since he had first used it when you let him use his wings for reference.

Every time he made himself comfortable, he would exhale a large sigh of relief, like he just walked out of a noisy and over-stimulating circus show.

His tolerance for people in general was still pretty dicey, but here, in the quiet corner of the hotel, he could reset his mind.

And with you there? He didn’t feel so lonely. Even in your silence, your presence and the multitude of large paintings leaning against the walls was all he needed to keep his mind from drifting off into darker thoughts.

“Boy, do you work fast. I can’t imagine what Hell would like if you were the one running things.”

“Probably terrible,” You had laughed, “I may be able to create art under time constraints, but the pressure of an entire realm on my shoulders? We’ll let the super-powerful-fallen-angel deal with that.”

“There goes my vacation,” He had sighed dramatically.

Sometimes, he’d catch you humming to an ancient tune, and every time he’d ask you about it.

“What song is this?” He’d ask, genuine interest lacing his voice.

“Innsbruck, ich muss dich lassen”

“I’m not even going to pretend to know what that means”

“ ‘Innsbruck, I must leave thee’ ,” you’d laugh, “It’s a German song and is, you guessed it, from the Renaissance.”

“Oh, right. Germany. Yeah, they were our biggest influx of souls back in the early 1900s,” He replied, “Must’ve been fun people.”

You shook your head at that. Right, ‘Fun’, that was a rather.. surface-level take on what that country had gotten into during that period of time.

“You should tell me more about the Renaissance.” He’d ask with puppy-dog eyes, which always made you set down your brush and turn to him. A content smile spreading across your face.

Your knowledge of such a time always intrigued him, the Renaissance as a whole did. For so long, he had desperately clung onto the hope that some of humanity would go on to create great and beautiful things due to his actions. That his Fall wasn't all for nothing.

Slowly, that hope fizzled out, and Lucifer’s growing delusion that Earth mirrored the sinful realm of Hell in more ways than one plagued his mind.

And then you appeared, passionate about Man’s most beautiful creations. Art, music, long-ago writings of sappy declarations of love in the form of poetry, and times when humanity’s intellectual and innovative nature flourished.

“It was absolutely magnificent,” You’d start, drawing from the depths of your mind all the imagery you could remember from when you were alive, “Filled with all kinds of artistic expression, painters that filled the ceilings of churches with heavenly imagery-“

Lucifer had snorted at that. This era in time had such a romanticized idea of what Heaven and their Creators were like. He pitied their ignorance.

“-and beautiful music. They were known for bringing to life a worldview known as Humanism. It was meant to bring back ancient philosophy — like from the Greeks — to uplift people to participate in the betterment of humanity, and to perpetuate much more virtuous actions. There must be a whole city full of them up there, I can't imagine anyone from that period ending up down here with how protective they were of their moral code.”

He’d always listen attentively in silence as you educated him. Sometimes, he’d even pull out the classic yellow rubber duck toy he held so close to his heart, and begin to fiddle with it as you spoke.

When he worked on them in your room, he’d curate them especially for you.

“Look! This one can refill your palette with the bestest freshest paint!” He’d exclaim as he wiggled it in the air, “And it still quacks!”

Every time, you’d pull up a cushion across the table from him, and rest your chin on your hand as you watched in amusement as he demonstrated his work.

In this instance, he squeezed the sides of the duck and it let out a pathetic Sqeaaooo and a glob of paint slid out of its mouth and plopped right onto the table. It splattered, leaving a few droplets on his pretty white overcoat.

Lucifer was a messy fella, and times like this made you growl quietly and reach for a wet cloth from your cleaning bucket. Hastily trying to rid his clothing of the bright red paint. Your movements across his sleeve made his body tense, and his breath quicken.

For someone who easily flustered you with abrupt acts of affection like the first time you met, Lucifer had the uncanny ability to turn his face as red as his cheek spots when you displayed such care towards him.

“It's still a work in progress.” He’d bashfully assure you every time something like that wouldn’t go as planned.

You’d wish Lucifer displayed such creativity outside of the yellow bath toy, but you promised yourself to help him down that path.

You could only imagine how many ideas this man had stored in that head of his, and you had a feeling you’d get him to wake up eventually. The thought of being there for him — with him, made your cheeks hot.

When it was finally time for him to leave the hotel — sometimes hours later, you’d walk him to the door of your little atelier and he’d turn to you, with that charming smirk and half-lidded look.

“Aren’t you going to say goodbye to Charlie?” You had ask, as he adjusted his hat and coat to depart.

“I already did before I got here,” he replied nonchalantly, as if you two existed in completely different buildings. Nevermind that she was a flight of stairs and a few halls away.

There were no more bold kisses to the limbs from him after your first meeting, to your displeasure. Even thinking about it gave you feelings that tugged painfully at your heartstrings and made you beg internally for more.

You desperately wished for him to softly hold your hand once more, to feel his lips graze your knuckles, to drink in the warmth of his touch.

Instead, he clutched his staff tightly, and dipped his hat to you.

“Until next time, Darling,” his voice, like silk, had echoed as waves of gold surrounded him. In a blink of an eye, you were left alone once more. Your heart pounding just like the first time, and every time after that.

Today, your heart was pounding just as fast. Except there was no Lucifer in sight.

Three days ago, you got a call from a good friend of yours who ran an art studio on the other side of Pentagram City. She realized she had double booked her classes, and had begged you to take over one for them.

“I’ve never taught anyone before…” You had trailed off over the phone, apprehensive to the idea.

“Nonsense! You are so well spoken, and you’re fantastic at this kind of stuff,” She exclaimed, “It’s not that hard, all you have to do is sit there while they trace the model and step in a few times to give them some tips on techniques. They aren’t a beginner class, so they shouldn’t need much instruction. You’re also in charge of guiding the model with the poses, but I already have a sheet that has them all, so you just need to follow along.”

You stood there for a moment, thinking. This was something totally strange to you. What were art classes like in Hell, anyway?

“Oh, AND they are going to be nude. At least partially, we make them cover their um, nether regions. That shouldn’t be a problem for you, right? I mean, you get paid for it so…”

Your friend trailed off, and the line went quiet for a moment as you mind raced. You looked around the now -empty atelier, your paintings finished and hung up around the hotel. You had nothing that was stopping you from doing it, not your skills, your time, or even the fact that the model was going to be exposed. You were in Hell, seeing someone like that was an almost daily occurrence. Telling her no just because of your nerves was a douchy thing to do, and you were far above that.

“Fine.” You conceded.

“YAYY!!” She shrieked in happiness, and you had to yank the phone away from your ear before it could start to bleed.

The next few minutes were her telling you where, when, and what to do. You had listened intently, memorizing her words. You didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself in front of strangers that you were teaching.

After hanging up the phone, had you went downstairs and to the hotel’s lobby to inform Charlie of your new job.

“I’m really sorry if this interferes with me working here, but I just couldn’t leave her hanging.”

“Pffft, it’s fine,” Charlie had waved it off, “You accepting the position as my new interior design manager is more than enough, i’m just glad you’re getting out of your comfort zone like this!”

You sighed a breath of relief. Good, no issues. You were worried she would have said no, and the fact she knows about Lucifer visiting you? Well, you weren’t sure how she was taking that. You never dared to ask, nor did she make any kind of indication her feelings about that.

“What’s it like?” She had asked, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“It’s nothing too bad, I think I might actually like it. I just help them with their techniques on mastering figure drawing by using a model as a reference. My friend says they are still looking for one to pose, so hopefully they find one in the next few days.”

“Interestingggggg” Charlie responded, her eyes holding a mischievous glint to them. You could see the gears turning in her head, but what for, you had no clue. You didn’t ask either.

You had spent the next few days preparing, you even had visited the studio. It was very pretty, and the room you were in was small, but rather homey. You had more confidence with your ability to lead the class now after locating specific areas of importance.

Which lead you to present day. You were hurriedly scrambling around the room, grabbing anything of necessity.

Your eyes jumped to the clock, and a squeak of panic escaped you as the class’ starting time got closer and closer. Finally placing the last pencil in your bag, you raced down the stairs, beelining for the door.

“Where you going in such a rush, Hot Cakes?” Angel Dust called out to you from the bar, Husk next to him as he poured Angel another drink.

“To class, do you know where Charlie or Alastor is?” You questioned them.

A rush of wind tickled your back, and you whipped around to see the Radio Demon himself looming behind you.

“Hello, my friend!” Alastor’s toothy grin on full display.

“I heard you were looking for Charlie, unfortunately she left not too long ago. She said it was something of great importance, and that it could shape the future of the hotel. But do not worry, I am here to assist you!”

You placed your hands together into a praying motion, trying your best to appeal to the demon’s better nature. If he had one.

“Can you pretty, pretty please send me to the Regal Fortune Studio? I’m doing a class there and I need to get there on time.” You begged.

Alastor’s eyes squinted in thought. Before his smile widened more than ever.

“Alright, I suppose so.”

You didn’t get to utter a thank you before the demon snapped his fingers, and dark energy crackled around you. Cold suddenly gripped at your shoulders, and your vision blurred.

You squeezed your eyes shut, unsure of what would happen next.

‘Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me’

Suddenly, light hit your eyelids and you slowly opened them to see the studio before you, just steps away from the front door.

You exhaled a sigh of relief, before yanking open the door.

The door to the classroom was slightly ajar, and you could hear faint voices inside. Indicating that everyone but you was ready to begin.

You crossed the lobby, ready to pull on the handle of the door, before a slight movement in the corner of your eye caused you to turn your head.

At the far end of the room, you could partially see long, blonde hair sticking out into view. Then, you heard the stranger speak to herself. Quiet grumblings of a feminine voice as they berated themself.

You raised an eyebrow.. could it be?

“Charlie?” You asked slowly.

The stranger squeaked, their hair pulled out of view. You heard a thump against the wall, as though they’ve pressed themselves against it in an attempt to hide.

You slowly tip toed the hallway, before whipping your body around the corner, surprising the mysterious figure.

“Charlie!” You shrieked in surprise at the sight of her, crouched against the wall. Her eyes widened in shock, and she let out a shriek of her own. Her eyes darted around, before she pulled herself up to meet your gaze.

“Oh my gosh heyyyyy, I didn’t expect to see you here!” She mocked innocence.

“Bullshit,” you retorted, “I told you where I was going like three days ago. Why are you really here?”

Sweat beaded on her forehead, and she bit her lip. As if she was deciding whether to tell you the truth, or another lie.

Suddenly, she let go of the breath she held, her shoulders dropping in defeat.

“Okay.. the truth is, when you told me you were hosting an art class I was so thrilled! For you, of course. But then, I thought about how much you and my dad were getting along! Then, I thought about how you guys seemed to have the shared interest of art. So I.. told him about the class?”

“And?” You questioned, irritation lacing your voice. You really did not have time for this.

“And I told him about how you were still looking for a model, and you know how he is. He doesn’t have a problem doing things like that in front of people, and he’s getting better at being around people in general..”

You gripped Charlie by her shoulders when she trailed off again, shaking her.

“Spit it out! What about your dad?!”

“HE AGREED TO BE THE MODEL FOR YOUR CLASS BUT I HAD NO IDEA THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO BE NUDE UNTIL WE SHOWED UP BUT HE JUST SAID GOODBYE AND WALKED INTO THE BACK ROOM!!”

You stopped dead, your breath caught in your throat. You turned your head slightly, eyeing the classroom door.

“Your dad… is in there… naked?” You finally managed to get the sentence out, your gaze returning to Charlie in a look of disbelief.

This was a joke, right? There was noooo way you were going to walk in there a minute and see Lucifer there. This was just a terrible (-bly good?) dream.

Charlie nodded in defeat, her head hung low.

“I don’t even have the mental strength to go in there. I couldn’t stop him, even if I wanted to. He was dead set on this.”

You rubbed a hand along your face, gathering your thoughts.

“Well, there’s no stopping it now,” You said, rolling your shoulders in preparation, “Guess I have a class to teach.”

“Have fun..?” Charlie smiled innocently at you. Her plan was working, after all.

You shot her a glare before crossing the lobby once more, and pulled open the door. You stepped inside, breath hitched, and gently shut the door behind you.

In front of you, four older women sat behind easels with a blank white canvas attached. If they noticed your arrival, they didn’t show it. Instead, they giggled in the direction of the slightly lifted stage. You couldn’t see who was on the stage, but the familiar voice with giddy amusement told you exactly who it was.

“You’re finally here!” Lucifer called, and you did nothing but stand there for a moment.

Straightening your back, you exhaled a deep breath, and walked forward. Right past the stage. You kept your eyes in front of you, ignoring the golden gaze that trailed your figure.

You positioned yourself between the platform and the women who had finally stopped giggling and whispering to each other, and cleared your throat.

“Hello, everyone. I’m your instructor for today, unfortunately Renee couldn’t be here today. We’ll be going over the usual though, figure drawing with the model present today.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, before opening them with renewed energy.

Slowly, you turned on your heels and pivoted in the direction of the platform. Your eyes widening at the sight.

Before you, on a long, red couch lay the King of Hell. Lucifer Morningstar, in all his glory. Shirtless, with no pants in sight. Thankfully, a thin, barely-hiding-anything sheet covered his waist section.

You met his gaze, a playful smirk etched on his lips. He wiggled his eyebrows at you, gauging for a reaction.

You made sure not to give him one. If he thought he was going a reaction from you in front of all these people, he was wrong.

“Let’s start by doing a quick sketching exercise, take about ten minutes to do your best and draw the model in front of you. Once the timer goes off, we’ll review and go over some techniques, before switching to a much longer pose.”

You clicked the timer, and the faint ticking of its gears cemented you into reality.

“Is that Lucifer?” One of the ladies whispered to her friend a chair over. Her friend shrugged, “I have no idea.. but boy, is he handddssoomee.”

You pressed your lips together, trying to ignore their gossip.

Sitting in the chair farthest from the group, you crossed your arms, your gaze resting on the floor. Was he looking at you right now?

You sat there for a moment, before realizing you couldn’t ignore him forever. He was the model after all. Soon you’d have to be helping him change poses anyway.

You looked up, drinking in the view. He was lazily leaning against the back of the velvet couch,

His hair, with no hat to cover it, stuck to his face messily with sweat. As he adjusted his head, a few strands of curls fell in front of his eyes. His intense stare slightly masked.

Was the room getting hot, or was it just you?

His eyes were locked on you, that stupid smirk still on his face. You sent daggers back to him.

He replied with a wave of his fingers.

You refused to let yours eyes travel any farther than his face, not ready for what kind of images your mind would give you regarding what was underneath the sheet.

“Did you know the Renaissance was pretty famous for constantly expanding its artistic art forms?” A voice smooth as butter filled the silence.

What the hell was he doing?!

“Believe it or not, the naked human was a very big inspiration for many of their paintings. No sheet in sight.”

Some of the women perked up in interest at Lucifer’s words. You couldn’t tell if they were actually interested in what he had to say, or just to hear his voice as it commanded the room’s attention.

“For an era so virtuous,” He teased the last part, reminding you of your discussion days earlier, “They so did love their scandalous marble status.”

He let that sink in, and you rolled your eyes dramatically at him. You couldn’t believe this was how Charlie planned on setting the two of you up.

A candle lit romantic dinner? Nah. A trip to the movies? Boring, apparently.

Were you against the idea of getting closer with the ‘Big Boss of Hell’? Of course not! He made you laugh and was actually interested in your ideas. This was just not how you expected it to go down.

“Keep talking, pretty boy!” One called from behind her easel.

Before he could speak again, the timer shrieked in your palm. You shot up from your seat, clasping your hands together loudly.

You turned your back to Lucifer as you began instructing the class, showing them a few techniques on how to straighten their lines, and how to hold their pencil just the right way that would give them a much thicker line for specific parts of the body.

“Alright, now, we’re going to have the model switch positions.”

Grabbing the paper that held all the different poses, you held it out to him, your finger tapping against the specific one in question. It showed the figure in a front facing view, one hand closed in a fist supported their chin, the other tucked neatly underneath. As if they were listening intently to some hot gossip.

“I’m afraid I can’t see what‘s on the paper. Perhaps, if you come a little closer and show me?

You groaned internally, he was enjoying this too much. You strided over to him. His gaze followed you, his grin only widening as you closed in on where he laid.

“You need to turn facing them,” You commanded the King himself. He pivoted, his body fully facing the group of gawking onlookers. He gave them a wink, and they hid behind their easels, their whispers fast and beathless.

“Now, you have to move your arm.. like this.” You spoke, reaching out one hand. You hesitated for a minute. You’ve never been so.. upfront with like this.

Reaching down, you gently circled your fingers around his wrist. Slowly, you allowed your hand to slip down, reaching his forearm.

His body was hot to the touch, and you felt like melting right then and there. Maybe it was time just to accept defeat, this man was just too good looking.

You felt the muscles of his arms shift, and you halted for a half a second.

Did he just tense?

Maybe you weren’t the only one who could be teased.

You guided his arm forward, and then up. Sliding your fingers, ever so gently, around his knuckles. You squeezed, and his hand enclosed into a fist. You guided it underneath his chin.

“Touchy today, aren’t we?” He spoke quietly to you, his voice dripping with velvet allure as you positioned him as the image on the paper showed.

“You be quiet.” You scolded him, trying your best to bring on your most serious face.

His quiet chuckle in response made you drop the face instantly. It was obvious you were pretty bad at this kind of thing, at least compared to Lucifer.

You grabbed his other arm, and gently tugged it underneath. Letting it lay neatly below him.

Taking a step back, you admired your work.

You were going to return to your seat, before a thought crossed your mind. You took a step forward, closing in on Lucifer again.

“And one more thing…” You started.

Using two fingers, you grazed the bottom of his chin, firmly pressing upward. Instinctually, his head followed the motion. He met your eyes, his gaze intensifying.

“Good boy.” You teased, your voice laced with a hint of sultry satisfaction.

You didn’t miss his pupils dilating into slits and his breath hitching slightly. You just turned on your heels, not giving him a second glance before returning to your seat.

You tilted your head at him slightly, looking at him through your eyelashes. Your lips curling into a provocative smirk as you gripped the timer.

Maybe now this would be an even match.

“Begin.”

Time flew by once more, and this time, Lucifer refused to meet your gaze. Instead, he was purely focused on the easels in front him.

“Tell me, my dear artist,” He began, addressing the demon woman before him. Her eyes widened when she realized he was speaking to her.

“If we were back in the Renaissance, would I make quite the muse?”

“Pardon?” The lady asked timidly, her voice coming out in a whisper.

“How about a statue? Think about that. Tall, Marble-skinned, and… lacking this rather uncomfortable cloth.”

The woman’s face turned bright red. Her mouth opened and closed, her tongue refusing to cooperate. Lucifer knew how to play this game well.

Then, he turned his head to you.

“What about you, stranger? Would you think i’d look good in such a form?”

You crossed your legs, leaning back in your chair.

“If the statue could stay quiet, while the class finished their work. Then, perhaps.”

The angel huffed, averting his gaze. He blew a few strands of hair out of his face, before continuing his blank stare at the wall.

The timer in your palm rang once more. You lifted yourself out of the chair. This was it, the last pose.

You strided back to Lucifer, his smoldering gaze on your figure as you approached.

For this pose, he needed to be off his stomach. You weren’t going to roll him like a log, or go anywhere near his torso. That was too brazen of an act for you to commit to, at least with all the eyes on you. Instead, you squeezed your eyes shut and gripped the white sheet. You tugged with all your might.

With an oomph he rolled along with it, he shoulder blades digging into the cushions as he landed exactly where you wanted.

Before the ladies could get even a glimpse, you hurriedly adjusted the sheet back onto him.

“Impressive, bending the devil himself to your will.” He commented as you continued to adjust his arms.

Ignoring him, you moved onto his legs, positioning them slightly.

“Careful~” He chided.

You said nothing to that either. Once he was in the correct pose, you released him. You glanced at his hair, now messily covering his face.

You reached forward and, splaying your fingers, pushed his hair back behind his head. You let your nails softly graze his scalp before you tugged them free.

“Sorry, can’t have your curls covering your face for the girls back there.”

“I bet they wished they were in your position,” Lucifer hummed “Few rarely are.”

You chuckled softly, “Please, the view looks better from back there.”

He let out an audible “Ha!” as the words left your lips and you turned away from him once more. You knew that must’ve stung, sending a blow to the prideful king’s ego.

Thirty minutes went by as you sat there, you spent more time examining your hands than meeting the gaze of the angel across the room.

This had turned into quite an eventful class, you couldn’t lie. You also didn’t expect such a shameless attitude from Lucifer, he was much more timid back in your painting room. Perhaps there was a side of him you still had yet to meet.

To be honest, sitting here, watching the clock tick by, you were pretty surprised this man had managed to stay near-perfectly still these past few hours.

Another thirty, and the timer rang its last chime. You had been positioned behind the drawing ladies, giving them critiques on their work.

You ignored the fact it was Lucifer you kept staring at on their canvas, instead simply regarding it as charcoal lines in need of straightening.

You wished them farewell at the doorway as they left. You hoped they had at least a pleasant time, since they’d have at least a good story to tell to their girlfriends over the phone.

Shutting the door with a soft thud, you sat there for a moment before your shoulders dropped in exhaustion. You honestly weren’t used to that kind of atmosphere, since your work consisted of you alone in a quiet room all day.

Taking a few steps backwards farther into the room, your gaze landing on the couch atop the platform. It was empty. Your eyes widened, did Lucifer just leave you here?

You rushed out of the classroom and strode into the lobby, searching for any signs of him.

“Wow, that little sneaky piece of-”

“I’m right here.” Came a familiar voice behind you.

You jumped, whipping around to find Lucifer dressed fully. Hat and all. Now this is what you were used to. Crossing your arms, you raised an eyebrow.

“What was that back there?” You motioned to the room behind you.

“My daughter invited me to look good in front of people and I did an outstanding job, as usual.”

“As the model? You couldn’t have just used your position as King to get a spot behind the easel instead?”

Lucifer grinned widely, leaning back against the wall. Could this have been his plan, and not Charlie’s? Now you weren’t so sure.

“Unfortunately, not many of us have a skill as perfected as yours with a brush.”

You accepted that praise. You had worked hard for it.

“And, not many people have as great of a photogenic face as me. So, we’re square.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you walked away. Lucifer kept pace as you both exited the studio, heading toward the curb.

“That reminds me,” Lucifer halted, reaching into his pocket to fish for something.

You stopped beside him, the mystery item in his coat pocket piquing your interest.

“I fixed it!” He held the the paint-vomiting rubber duck out to you, wiggling it in delight.

“You did?”

“That’s right. This bad boy can now pop out six different colors, you just have to pull its beak.”

“That actually really cool,” You laughed, taking the rubber toy from him. You turned it in your hands, maybe later you’d pretty it up with some fresh paint.

You looked up at him again, his golden eyes shimmering from the bright neon backdrop. You have much more to say to him, but your thoughts were jumbled from the day. There was one, though.

“You know, next time you should just ask.” You gripped the duck firmly in the palm of your hand, lowering your arm.

“Ask what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Luci. You’re telling me you hijacked my class because you had a change in career choice?”

His smile turned playful again, and he pivoted to face you, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Maybe, maybe not. That depends if i’ll be seeing you next week?” His eyes met yours with a questioning stare.

You gave him a warm-hearting smile, nodding your head.

“As always.”

His smile widened, and with a tap of his staff. Golden waves cascaded around you. It wasn’t cold, like Alastors. Instead, it was warm and relieving, like face planting into your pillows after an exhausting day.

As your vision began to obscure, you saw his face peak into the cascades of light, his hand reaching forward.

“I almost forgot.” His voice echoed, distorted by the magic as it circled them.

His hand enclosed around your own, and planted a kiss right onto your wrist. His lips lingered for a moment, as did his grip around your hand, as if your time together was too fleeting to let go.

You promised silently it wasn’t.

The light rushed over you suddenly, and you had to squeeze your eyes shut to keep from being blinded. Lucifer’s touch vanishing with your sight.

Feeling your feet planting on solid ground, your eyes widened to familiar surroundings of the hotel lobby. You were home, and Lucifer was no where in sight.

“Hey, Hot Cakes!” Angel Dust called, still seated in the same spot at the bar, “How’d it go?”

——————

🤍 alright, let me know what you think of this!! your comments are appreciated, esp if you have any ideas on what to do next!

💜 the kisses are getting higher! part 3?

#lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #did i do the sexy good? #my asexual ass is trying y’all #this man has been in one ep and we’re all snarling over him jesus

[frogchiro]

I hope I’m not bothering you with my ancient greek mythology stuff my little brain is going into overdrive👉👈

Just…sculptor/painter reader using the gladiators as her nude model…running your hands over their muscles and gushing how strong they are and how amazing your latest piece is going to come out!

You don’t even notice they’re getting hard as you run your fingers over their adonis belt commenting how they’re your new muse for your art

I almost (s)creamed the moment I saw this ask nonnie dear you're a genius ;;

Also I feel the need to mention this; please do keep in mind that this is only my silly au and most probably will have historical inaccuracies so if you're a true history/ancient greece/roman enjoyer, please go mild on me ;;

But back to the drill...You are so right??? Like...I imagine that reader would be a young, aspiring artist with a knack for painting. Maybe she doesn't come from a wealthy family so any true school for it is out of the question, your own parents only came along when you started selling your painting and doing commissions for nobles and it actually started to bring in money. Your road to success is still long but you're managing! Plus you're 'stupidly determined like your father' as your mother says so you try to stay positive!

The one problem you had was something you believed many artists suffered from; inspiration and models. Specifically human models. The human body and physique fascinated you from an early age, the moving muscles, facial expressions to different stimuli and so much more but...the problem were the models, or rather the lack thereof.

You could probably hire someone but the money spend on that would be way too much for your limited budget so the next best thing was the coliseum! It was a blessing in poor disguise, the gladiators trained there almost daily and luckily the head keeper of the arena begrudingly let you stay there and practice in exchange for a satchel of money but to be honest...the practice wasn't the only thing you longed for when visiting the coliseum almost daily, it was the gladiators.

They were huge, burly men in their prime, all of them looking like they were born with a sword or spear in hand and to grow up to become warrior and you'd be lying if you said that warmth didn't spread through your body and centered in your lower belly whenever these big, loud and boisterous men didn't call out for you and purred in dripping, low voices how pent up they are and what they wouldn't give for a pretty soft thing like you :((

The worst (or best) part was when you were practicing nude drawings which were equally fascinating and hard to draw, especially with all these men being so...shameless with it. You loved the human body, all artists do but still you were a young lady and watching all the gladiators walking around the barracks all naked and proud was...an experience to say the least and brought a pang of warmth between your thighs, especially when they were so happy to parade themselves like proud stallions in front of you :((

Strong, toned bodies glistening with sweat and water, their hardening cocks proudly on show whenever you run your soft hands over their toned torsos to study the way muscles move and twitch whenever you run your fingers over a sensitive spot, the most reactive being two of the many foreign gladiators, Johnny or like he insisted to be called 'Soap' and Kyle or 'Gaz', like he wants to be called.

These two are always purring low withing their chests to you as you look all over them, their backs, chests, stomachs, making you promise to do a special commission only for them but you're just nodding dumbly because you're too transfixed on the god-like bodies to draw :(

Another gladiator you're very fond of is a huge, blonde foreigner named Simon, or 'Ghost'. A formidable warrior, a veteran for sure, it looked like Ares himself send this one here to grace the people with a demigod of war. He was always incredibly patient with you, letting you roam your hands over his body and all the numerous scars decorating his skin. Once you saw Simon up close you immediately realized why people called him a demigod-he was beautiful. A strong and powerful man in his prime, his muscles jumping and twitching beneath his thick skin and a layer of fat, power and virility was literally radiating off of this man, and you insistently tried not to look at the long and thick cock hanging between his legs, twitching and pulsating with arousal whenever you marveled over his body and your fingers ran over his adonis belt <3

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #THANK YOU FOR THIS #i could go on for hours ;; #gladiator au #gladiator!ghost #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader

[for-a-longlongtime]

JOIN US for the Triple Frontier 5th Anniversary Write-A-Thon!

Hosted by @romanarose and @for-a-longlongtime

Hello everyone!

March 13th 2024 will be the 5 year anniversary of Triple Frontier, a movie that was underrated but very precious to us all. Whether Frankie Fridays rock your world, you're a Benny kinda-person, you've got a thing for Santi, or are counting everything all the time just like Will - there are so many of us.

Charlie Hunnam announced recently that there is potential for a sequel; he is trying to get it in production and has signed on as a producer. Do we want this? HELL. YEAH. Let's be real, we've probably all thought about how that would go. So @romanarose and I wanted to drum up a little extra excitement all over the place and spread some love for this movie that many of us have watched so many times! (Probably every week. I have no shame admitting this.)

Here's what's happening

It's super simple: create a fanfic of Triple Frontier, any way you like and with any characters you want. Most people will be inclined to write a story, but we always greatly welcome other artistic interpretations. We've listed some content rules below just to make sure it's fun and accessible for everybody, so please check it out. This is for both art and fanfiction. We encourage you to utilize Twitter or Instagram if you’d like to share either, and #triplefrontier or #triplefrontier2019 on any site you post on! Even if you don't plan to participate, please feel free to share this (or other) posts.

Please note you do NOT have to write a 'sequel' to TF; any fic with any Triple Frontier character will do, in pretty much any situation. A 500 word ficlet will be awesome, as will a 20K story, a painting or digital art be!

🏳‍🌈 We are highly encouraging LGBT themes and for you to think outside of x f!reader. 🏳‍🌈 

👉 If you are writing reader insert, we strongly encourage you to encompass a broad scope of readers if you aren't going to specify the demographic. 👈 (FYI, @idolatrybarbie made a great, important post about the need of inclusive reader inserts a couple of months ago.)

All fics that fall under the rules are encouraged, so if you write Santiago Garcia x afab!f!reader, that’s great! But we’d like to take this time to encourage gay/bi pairings, trans readers, gender neutral characters or readers, or even trans interpretations of the boys. Branch out!

🚨 When you post, PLEASE tag @triplefrontier-anniversary on Tumblr and we will reblog it there. We also may reblog onto our main. Please follow that page to see what other people are writing! In the tags, please tag it triple frontier write a thon, just to make everything easily found.

If you want to post art that Tumblr doesn’t allow things like nude art, link the content in a Tumblr post, like a Twitter link, and we’ll reblog that!

If you exclusively write on AO3 or Wattpad or other, you can either make a link on a Tumblr post and tag us. Or message @romanarose privately and they’ll get this set up for you so we can reblog.

Triple Frontier Write-A-Thon Rules

We will run from March 1st to March 14th. Fics and art posted before or after will not be counted - we're trying to keep things manageabel!

This is not a dark event, sorry! Some of us enjoy dark content but wanted to keep this particular event mostly non-dark. That being said, we will allow dub con in the context of mild alcohol use, power dynamics etc. Nothing cooercive, anything sexual should be done with consent. Mostly we are looking to avoid non-con/violence. If you have questions, don’t be afraid to reach out to us!

All participants must be 18+, although smut is not required

No incest, including Millercest. No underage content, no grooming, no - do we really need to list it all here? Again, this is not a dark fic thing.

We have the right to exclude any fic that makes us uncomfortable. It’s our event.

However, we will NOT be excluding people for personal biases, unless it encroaches on our boundaries. This event is to promote Triple Frontier, not about us.

LGBTQ+ characters and themes are highly encouraged, not required. Any fandom thrives when it's inclusive, so we want to explicitely welcome and encourage authors to be themselves and write what they want! Or perhaps even try something new, if so far you've only written P boys x f!reader/OFC.

Tom is allowed. We’re not gonna tell you not to include him if that’s what your little heart desires. However, we highly encourage that your work includes at least one of the usual four guys.

(We don't know WHY you would want this but but FINE. If you must...)

We hope everyone has fun and that this will drum up some more Triple Frontier fics! It's just a fun little thing we want to do in order to celebrate all of you as authors, artists and the movie/characters that have made such an impact on many of us.

Once we start reblogging your entries at @triplefrontier-anniversary starting March 1st, remember to reblog and comment to support artists!

Please come to @romanarose or me with any questions!

PS: Just to make sure there's no confusion - this write-a-thon is explicitely about the Triple Frontier characters, so there's no RPF.

#triple frontier #pedro pascal #oscar isaac #charlie hunnam #garrett hedlund #fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction #francisco morales #santiago garcia #william miller #ben miller #triple frontier 5th anniversary #triple frontier smut

[kerokreature]

Slasher Brainrot and Faux Sympathy

Wowie hi, this popped up and is evicting any other thought in my brain, so ya, have this Below will be some Faux Sympathy lines from Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair and Lester Sinclair from House of Wax 2005, Stu Macher and Billy Loomis as Ghost Face and Rob Zombie’s Michael Myers

All of this is paired with GN!Reader (no pronouns afab body descriptions)

CW: NSFW themes, Gore/Violence Typical with the genre, AFAB body mentions, mild verbal abuse, some less then consensual situations depending on how you look at it

Enjoy

Bo Sinclair

His hands pressed your frame tighter to the chair as he gazed down at you, that damned crooked smile of his playing his features. He watched you sputter, beneath him, blue eyes flicking over your curves.

“Relax now Darlin’, don’t want to have to use the restraints when my hands are nicer.” He chuckled lowly, leaning just closer to your face. He purred in unison with the miserable whine that escaped your lips, fingers tracing up your bare sides. When you tried to pull away again his face soured, patience wearing thin.

“Now sweetheart your fixin’ to make me do something I don’t want to do.” He warned, the gentleness ebbing out of his voice, leaving a sharp edge behind. His brows just started knitting together, his tongue pressing to his cheek as he waited for you to still. You almost had when a pleading sob wracked your frame, his hands tightening, squeezing the bones of your wrists.

His brows shot to his hairline at the miserable yowl you let out as he squeezed tighter.

“Awh Baby.. am I hurting you? Is that too tight?” He asked you, tone thick and heavy with saccharine sweetness. His hands had just started to relax as you started to nod. He blinked, looking down at your shuttering, nude frame, his hickeys and bite marks covering your skin. He looked at the way your thighs pressed together to try and cover your core. As his eyes flicked back up to you he smiled again, something almost kind at first before the corners of his mouth tore into a sneer.

“Shouldn’t be such a fuckin’ brat then.” He scoffed, grabbing both of your bruising wrists in one hand and slamming them above your head. Any hint of sympathy or tenderness had left his voice as he used his other hand to wrench your thighs apart.

Vincent Sinclair

Your whimpers and groans filled the workspace, some almost pornographic while others were pained. You weren’t going to become a sculpture that much was obvious but panic made your heart flicker in your chest like wing beats.

A single blue eye flicked up at you from behind the wax mask, studying your face as wax dripped from the cup onto your breast, missing your nipple just slightly. Vincent tilted his head at the sound that escaped your lips, his shoulders bouncing as a breathy laugh escaped him.

He turned the cup again, wax splashing your sensitive nipples as you let out a sharp cry, your frame shaking on the work bench. Sweat mixed with the oil coating your body as you gave the artist a pleading look. Vincent paid you no mind, cascading a few drops down your stomach, letting it pool in your naval before going back over your thighs.

Each whine and cry was like a symphony and Vincent was swaying to the music. He let wax drip over your sickening core with a hint of a hum. Your sound was something between lewd and pained, your breath picking up. He paused to check on you, wiping his fingers over the tears on your cheeks. His next head tilt was questioning as he soothingly wiped your tears away, setting the cup of wax down on the warmer.

“It hurts…” you whimpered, “please it hurts..” a slight sob left your lips, you knew the wax would be peeled away again, your burns treated with something cold. You simply wanted that to happen already.

Vincent gently rubbed his fingers across your jaw, signing to ask if you wanted to stop, his lone blue eye peering down at you in something like concern. Your miserable whine mixed with the rapid nodding of your head earned a different look however.

Vincent clicked his tongue in triplicate, shaking his head as he grabbed the cup again, spilling more wax across your frame.

Lester Sinclair

The truck rumbled noisily down dirt roads, taking turns that felt too sharp as the old truck accelerated. You whimpered from your spot, pressed to Lester’s thigh and laid out across the bench, your blindfold lifted only enough for you to see his hand resting on the gear shift.

Lester was taking you god knows where at god knows what neck breaking speed at god knows what hour. You’d simply woken up laid across the seats with your face pressed to his thigh, hands bound and eyes covered in what felt to to be silk. Your next little squeal came as the truck rounded another corner, pushing you fully into Lester’s groin.

“Is that my baby I hear whining?” He asked teasingly, taking his hand off the gear shift to stroke your hair. You couldn’t help but relax slightly before He withdrew his hand, shifting gears as he seemed to speed up, rounding another corner and going over what felt like a cattle guard.

“Lester! Slow down! Where are we!?” You asked with a whine, trying to lift your bound hands to move your blind fold before you were stopped.

“Awhhhh..” Lester started softly, condescension lingering on his words like the smoke from his Marlboro red. “Am I scaring you my baby?” He asked lowly.

You let out a whiny ‘Mhmmm’ as you tried to shift again. Lester chuckled, the tone somewhat cruel as he took another sharp corner. “Good. That’s how I want you.”

Stu Macher and Billy Loomis

You let out a lewd whine as Stu pulled you to his chest, his arms locking under and around your shoulders so you couldn’t move, his nose pressing to your hair.

“Shhhh You’re good babe.. getting a little riled up huh?” He asked teasingly, letting out a twisted giggle as Billy tore your shirt up over your chest, smirking at your eager horny grin.

“Looks like Y/N here is getting a little too riled up, huh, Stu? You gonna let them keep being a little slut like that?” He asked menacingly, brandishing his knife towards your bare stomach and gently trailing it down to the hem of your pants, light handed enough not to cut your flesh, smirking when you whimpered.

Stu let out another twisted giggle and rocked you side to side, his laugh only picking up at your miserable horny mewl. God you wanted your pants off, you wanted them to fucking touch you already.

“Awhhhh Are we teasing you too much babe?” Stu asked mockingly, reaching out to trail his fingers over your trembling bottom lip. You let out a miserable whine, nodding as you squirmed against hip, lips parting so you could nipple his finger. Billy grinned salaciously at your pathetic display, bringing the voice Modulator up to his mouth to speak into it.

“Good. We want you fucking soaked.”

Michael Myers

A blood curdling scream echoed through the Myers house as you fought against the wall of a man. He only shook his head as he propped you up, taking a few steps back to stare.

Blonde hair covered most of his face, an orange paper machet mask covering a lot of the rest. He tilted his head to stare at you, blue eyes shining slightly in the low light, watching your nude form as he whined. His arousal was painfully obvious in the jump suit he wore, you couldn’t help but watch the way it twitched through the fabric at the sound of your whining.

“Micheal..” you whimpered, giving him a look that would mimic any puppy dog.

“Micheal you hurt me.” He knelt down, grabbing your arm to look over your bruising wrist. His eyes flicked back up at you as if to ask if that’s what you were whining over. You nodded a little, “Yeah.. right there.” You said, your wrist already red, your shoulder sore from the dragging. He almost seemed apologetic at hurting you and you started to relax.

He grunted, gripping your wrist again and tugging you forward to look down into your eye, letting out something between a grunt and a chuckle when you let out another sharp cry. He pinned you against the wall roughly, staring down at you as you were pressed beneath his warmth.

✨Hope you liked it ✨

#bo sinclair #bo sinclair x y/n #house of wax fandom #slasher fucker #house of wax fanfiction #vincent sinclair x y/n #vincent sinclair fanfiction #lester sinclair fanfiction #Lester Sinclair #billy loomis #stu macher #stu x billy #stu x reader #billy loomis x stu macher x reader #micheal myers #rob zombie halloween #slasher fandom #slasher fic #slasher community #slasher fanfiction #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher x y/n

[tyonfs]

muse

❝ there you go. but, y/n, you’re going to have to take off everything for me. ❞

PAIRING ▸ kim doyoung x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ fluff, smut, painter au, bridgerton au

WARNINGS ▸ mild profanity, sexual tension ofc, art teacher/duke!doyoung, hyuck cockblocks you guys because he’s annoying, doyoung paints you nude, fingering, smut, unprotected sex (don’t try this at home or anywhere really), overstimulation, but there’s fluff i promise

SUMMARY ▸ shadowed by the success of your siblings, you were determined to find your own worth. you soon discovered that the duke of burgundy could teach you everything you needed to know. somewhere between brushstrokes and lipstick stains, kim doyoung became your muse.

PLAYLIST ▸ malena by ennio morricone • bath by offonoff

WORD COUNT ▸ 7710 words

TAG LIST ▸ @marknolee​ @jenotation​ @yasmini24​ @chanluster​ @strawjaem @notnctu-replies @prettyjaems @kabira @lovesjenmoong @infnteen @hyuckshoney @jaehyvnsvalentine @wownajaemin @czechkpoptrash @ukiyoneo​ @ncttboo​

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ hello! thank you so much for checking this out !! this is dedicated to my own muse, @chanluster i love you ♡

THERE WAS ALWAYS SOMETHING MISSING FROM YOUR LIFE.

You realized this at the sound of a whip cracking, spurring your stagecoach into motion. The horses trotted down the uneven path from your mansion to the city. Resting your head against the window, you watched the landscape go on by, thinking about its hues and how you could recreate them on a canvas. You had been sneaking out every weekend just for this means of escape from your rigid, cookie-cutter lifestyle of upholding your status in society.

Being the youngest daughter of the Artois family, you were often neglected, lost within the shadow of your siblings, and unable to showcase your talents and desires. The one thing you wanted to do was art, but since one of your elder sisters excelled in it, all of your parents’ care and attention went to her work. Thus, you decided to pursue your hobby on your own, traveling all the way to the city to paint in the minuscule workshop that ironically belonged to the richest man in the country.

The Duke of Burgundy, Kim Doyoung.

The workshop was a little secret between the both of you. You were both runaways from your realities, escaping to the only place you could express yourself without feeling overshadowed by others. Art was a reflection of yourself, and you poured your heart into each piece you created. It was clear that some part of you longed for recognition and appreciation, but that was where Doyoung came in.

You had first met him on a lonely field, paintbrush in hand and a blank canvas on your lap. He told you to paint the colors of the sky, ending up pleasantly surprised when you neglected the blue sky and used hues of pinks and purples. You told him that the colors were at your disposal to do whatever you liked, and it was your job as an artist to express what you truly wanted. Pleased by your answer, he offered to teach you what he knew about art—which was quite an extensive amount—so that was how you ended up going to his workshop every weekend.

Doyoung was the first son, shouldering all the responsibilities of carrying on his lineage. Often, you wondered how he had the free will to escape his burdens and find the time to enjoy the simple pleasures life had to offer.

He was truly a wonderful man—the epitome of what every woman wanted in a partner. He was kind, strong, humble, and filthy rich. He had an air of elegance to him, and although you were of royal blood too, there was something about Doyoung that made him feel like he was set on a higher pedestal than you.

It also didn’t help that he was attractive as hell.

“Thank you for letting me borrow your paints, your Grace. I really appreciate it,” you said as soon as you walked into the workshop.

Doyoung looked up from where he was immersing himself into his easel and canvas, his sleepy smile widening just a touch when he recognized your voice.

“Of course.” He watched with a calculative gaze as you gingerly set the paints on one of the desks. “How did it go?”

“Splendid.” You pulled one of the chairs over to him, plopping down on it and running a hand through your hair. “I have to admit, I was struggling with inspiration at first.”

He hummed in response, putting his paintbrush down so he could devote his full attention to the conversation. You supposed it wasn’t hard for him to find a muse; after all, all of his artwork were masterpieces.

“Did you come up with any ideas?”

“I did,” you said distantly, not sure if you wanted to express it. A flush of shyness exploded in your chest at the thought of actually telling him what went on in your head. “I’ll elaborate when it’s a work in progress”

“Then I’ll look forward to it.”

There was a genuine earnestness in his voice that made you smile. You straightened up, patting down your corset when you felt flustered, and let out the softest sigh. You felt a special connection to Doyoung, one that was only strengthened by your shared passion for the arts. You were always one of the first people to see his pieces or his model of choice when he needed someone as a reference. Despite the light back-and-forth flirting, though, neither of you had ever actually crossed the line.

You wondered if he ever would.

“Actually,” you started, trying not to stutter. “I was thinking of a painting of someone… nude.”

Doyoung laughed a bit at your words, leaning back in his chair with a raised eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Well, I’m sure whatever you paint would be wonderful. Did you need anatomy references?”

“That’s the thing.” You let out a chuckle, embarrassed by how nervous it sounded. “I wanted you to paint it, actually. Like, um… referencing a real model.”

The both of you sat quietly, ghosts of smiles on your lips.

“Well,” Doyoung started after a moment of silence, “it wouldn't be a problem, but I suppose it would be hard to find someone who would willingly pose nude for it. After all, I can’t go around asking when I’m the—”

“I could.”

The silence was louder this time and the tension was thicker. Doyoung’s eyes grew dark at your words, almost like he was warning you not to wade in the water too deep. Yet, another part of him seemed like he wanted that more than you did.

“Then come to my mansion tonight,” he said. “We’ll sort it out there.”

You nodded, a little elated because the duke didn’t seem entirely repulsed by the prospect of seeing you naked.

You had to admit you always felt different about Kim Doyoung.

He wasn’t flashy or overdone like your sisters’ suitors, nor was he painfully boring and awkward. Doyoung was always so open and easygoing with you, washing away whatever titles the both of you held. When it was just you and him, you felt as if you were floating on a cloud. It was the silly, dizzying crush that was stuck in your head and flashed behind your eyes.

You wondered if Doyoung would keep his word tonight. Even if he did, however, you weren’t sure how you were going to sit still while he painted your bare body, eyes fixed on every curve and blemish. You thought of his dark eyes drinking in your appearance and his tongue flicking across his lips at the sight of you.

Oh, don’t get so carried away, Y/N, you thought, shaking your head as if to get rid of the impure thoughts.

You decided to spend the rest of your afternoon pouring your feelings out into artwork. Since your head was a jumbled mess, you could figure out your desires through your art instead.

Your head wasn’t in your art, though. All you could think about was the handsome duke and looking into his dark and sleepy eyes like they were a Monet painting. As your paint glided across the canvas, you thought of how unfair it was that Doyoung had captured your heart. It was no wonder you fell so fast; his easy smile, kind words, and the way his eyes lit up every time he saw you was enough for you.

You weren’t even participating in being courted this season. How could you let yourself get swayed by a duke of all people?

When you finished your painting, you had to pause for several moments before you realized that you completed it. It wasn’t such a complicated style, but the blend of colors and shading you had created was intricate enough. Your hands gripped the sides of the canvas, jaw going slack at what you had just done.

It was the most beautiful piece you had ever created.

When you arrived at the Burgundy residence, you were overwhelmed, to say the least.

You didn’t have to knock at the door, first of all. Doyoung had personally sent a stagecoach to pick you up, which you were escorted from and brought inside his mansion. The interior rivaled the Queen’s palace herself and made you wonder why Doyoung would ever paint in a tiny workshop when he could be doing his art in such a lavish space.

You walked through the large foyer, heels clicking against the linoleum until the house opened up to a large living room with a ceiling so high that you had to crane your head up all the way to see the glass chandelier above.

“Lady Artois.” You heard Doyoung’s voice loud and clear from the staircase. You turned to see him standing on the higher steps, beckoning you over with his eyes. “Come upstairs to my studio.”

You swallowed thickly and made your way upstairs, hands entwined behind you. Earlier, your mind was conjuring up every possible scenario that could happen, but now you were blanking. You had absolutely no idea what was to come and how you were going to brace yourself.

The room Doyoung led you to was larger than the living room. There were desks and cabinets around the perimeter with various art tools cluttered on them. Although Doyoung preferred good lighting when he did his art, the room was dimly lit with its red velvet curtains drawn. And, in the middle of it all, was your stage: a red cushioned sofa with a gold trim.

“Take a seat.”

Doyoung’s voice sent shivers down your spine so, without a word, you did as he said. You smoothed down your dress behind you before you sat down, looking at the artist expectantly. He busied himself with setting up his paint, not sparing you a word or glance in the process. You understood him all too well; Doyoung got serious when it came to his art, and oftentimes it was just him and the canvas, everything else in the world dissolving out of existence.

He threw you a glance over his shoulder. “Why don’t you undress?”

You knew what you came here for, but somehow, you didn’t expect those words to come from his mouth. Some part of you assumed he would still be keeping his distance as a way to protect you. Now, however, it seemed like he was throwing all that to the wind.

“R-right,” you stammered, hands flying back to undo the strings on your dress. “Um… uh…”

The duke seemed to pick up on your struggle and strode to your side before leaving his paints at the easel. His hand grazed your waist before moving to undo the strings of your gown. He undid them slowly as if he was enjoying the way you held your breath and stilled at his proximity. The dress slid down, pooling at your feet when it was undone, so Doyoung turned his attention to your corset. He tugged at each string one-by-one, relishing how it hugged your curves. The bodice loosened around you and your hands flew up to hold it in place.

“There you go,” Doyoung murmured in your ear, hands grazing down your back, his touch featherlight. “But, Y/N, you’re going to have to take off everything for me.”

You balked, a hot flush exploding in your chest. “Sure.”

“Can’t do it?” Doyoung asked, amused. You nodded, and he hummed in response, saying, “I’ll help you out.”

Doyoung’s touch was still gentle as he removed your corset completely, earning a gasp from you when you felt his hands run down your sides. From the outside, everything about him screamed dominance and power. You weren’t exactly sure why he was being so modest now, especially when this was the perfect time for him to ravish you until you could barely remember your name.

Then you realized.

He was playing with you.

You could hardly breathe as Doyoung’s hands moved up to your chest, ghosting over your bra and tugging at the straps. You let out a shaky, blissful sigh and Doyoung unhooked the lingerie, sliding your bra straps down your arms. Hesitantly, you let your bra fall to the ground, only to press your lips together tightly when you felt Doyoung’s finger trace over the swell of your breasts. He made his way down to your hip, rousing a whimper from your lips that he clearly appreciated.

You were spun around so your back was no longer to him; however, you could barely make eye contact with the duke without shyly averting your gaze. Doyoung moved his hands from your breasts down to your panties, slipping his hand past the fabric.

You gripped his shoulder, wide-eyed. “Your Grace? Oh my—”

“Doyoung,” he corrected.

The softest whine escaped your lips when Doyoung grazed his fingers up your slit, making his lips curl in satisfaction. He snapped the waistband of your underwear and looped both fingers around the hips, tugging it down your thighs until you were able to kick it off yourself.

There you were, standing in front of Doyoung in your full glory.

Doyoung looked you up and down, gaze hungry, and whispered in your ear, “Get comfortable for me.”

You didn’t notice how labored your breathing was until Doyoung returned to his easel and you were left with your heartbeat pounding in your ears. While Doyoung adjusted his stool so he could look at both you and his art, you draped yourself luxuriously on the couch. You were no model, but you wanted to look as good as you could for the duke.

“Y/N,” Doyoung called, dropping all formalities. “I want to see all of you so try not to hide too much.”

Flustered, you nodded quickly and positioned yourself so that your crotch was hidden by the curve of your hip, but your breasts were on full display. Doyoung’s eyes changed. He was no longer hungry for a taste of you but looked at you like you were the most divine creature he had longed to paint. You imagined each stroke of his paintbrush, turning you into a fantasy with each splotch of paint.

You sat for what felt like hours, changing up your position every now and then so you wouldn’t cramp up. You observed Doyoung narrow his eyes at his canvas, figuring out what to do to enhance it. The way he’d pause to brush his hair back or stick his paintbrush behind his ear to examine his progress was driving you crazy.

You pressed your thighs together when you felt wetness starting to gather down there. Your inner thighs were slick and you were downright ashamed with how badly the duke was affecting you.

When Doyoung was done, you were the one to ask first, “Does it look okay?”

You were nervous. You knew Doyoung was the most incredible artist you had ever met, but you wondered how you looked in his eyes. Your fear heightened when you watched Doyoung get up from the stool, stepping back to see his work. He took a shaky breath, straightening out the cuffs of his sleeves.

“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever made,” Doyoung whispered.

The fire within you was doused with gasoline every passing second. You couldn’t bank on anything happening between the two of you before, but now Doyoung was looking at you like he was seeing you for the first time in a new light. You got up, your forearm over your breasts, and walked over to see what he had made. You felt warm in your chest when you saw the glorified version of yourself on the canvas, untouchable and gorgeous. You weren’t just a mere attraction to him but art.

This was how Doyoung saw you.

“It’s incredible,” you mumbled, eyes flitting from the painting to the duke.

But his eyes were already boring into yours, and you felt desire punch you right in the gut. You felt like you were drowning under his gaze. He walked closer to you, backing you up until the back of your legs hit the sofa. This was so much different from the gentler, restrained Doyoung that taught you to paint in his little workshop. Whatever the case, you had awakened him.

“You’re incredible.”

Something in Doyoung snapped and he grabbed you by the waist, pressing your body flush against his as his lips attached themselves to your neck. You had never felt this way before nor did you know what you were doing, but this foreign feeling made you feel like you were glowing. Doyoung peppered kisses along your neck before intensifying his actions by pressing open-mouthed kisses along the column, sucking and biting at random. As you found some purchase by grabbing his hair, you whimpered louder when he found your nipples and tugged them until they were hard and you were begging for more.

“Fuck, Doyoung,” you murmured. “Please.”

“Please what?” he teased.

Your eyes widened when he pulled away from your neck and let your fingers graze the sore skin. Doyoung simply looked amused as you pressed slightly against the dark hickies he had littered along the side, just dark enough for it to go mostly unrecognizable.

“What’s this?” you asked, experimentally pressing at another and wincing.

“It’s a hickey. All I have to do is kiss you and”—Doyoung demonstrated by grabbing your waist, sucking at the side of your breast until a dark mark bloomed on your skin, stirring a mewl from you—“that happens.”

“Doyoung,” you begged, wrapping your arms around his neck. You knew his hands wanted to roam but he kept them firm on your hips. “I need you.”

Before he could answer, your fantasy shattered when a knock came at the door.

“Duke Kim Doyoung!” the voice called, exasperated. “Enough locking yourself up in your studio and help me fend off your sister’s suitors!”

Doyoung lowered his head and groaned against your neck. “My god, Donghyuck, do you not have the balls to send away your own fiancé’s suitors?”

“Please,” Donghyuck begged from the other side of the door. “You’re her brother and we aren’t ready to announce that I’ve successfully courted her yet.”

Doyoung sighed in defeat, moving off of you reluctantly. He looked down at you and helped you up from the sofa, taking off his coat and putting it around your shoulders. He kissed your head and glanced from the door and back to you.

“I have to go, Y/N,” he said, sounding apologetic. “Get dressed and my stagecoach will take you home, okay?”

You nodded, dazed, as Doyoung rushed out of his studio and you were left with a pile of your clothes, the most breathtaking work of art you had ever seen, and a racing heart.

When you returned to your home, you were still feeling a bit upset that Doyoung had left you amid everything that was happening. You still felt an immense amount of longing for him and nothing you could do about it. However, all of that dissolved into the background when you walked into your foyer and saw your parents holding your canvas in the living room.

It was the one you made about Doyoung.

“Y/N, what is this?” came your mother’s voice.

For a moment, you thought she was angry with you, and you wondered if she had any right to be cross when she was the one who found your art. You assumed she was infuriated that you were wasting your time painting instead of doing something to increase the number of suitors lining up for your hand in marriage. However, there was no trace of anger on her face; there was only awe.

You blinked. “That’s… that’s something I painted, mother.”

“Painted,” she echoed.

“With oil paints,” you added in a small voice, gauging her reaction with trepidation.

“It’s beautiful,” your father said proudly, getting up to embrace you. You were overwhelmed by the sudden burst of love coming from your parents and accepted the hug. “Your mother and I would like to feature your piece in our gallery.”

You felt winded for the umpteenth time tonight, but this time, it wasn’t because of Doyoung. You weren’t sure how to reply at first because you felt like the ground was breaking underneath your feet. Being featured in a gallery was something you had always wanted. Even if it was hosted by your parents, you needed the exposure. The thought of seeing your work being hung up for hundreds to see made you feel like you were starting to become yourself, not the shadows of your sisters.

“Thank you,” you gushed, nearly choking on your words as you closed your eyes and willed yourself not to tear up.

“We just need a title for your piece and we can have it hung up in the showroom,” your mother said with a smile.

Somehow, a title came to mind so effortlessly, like it had always been there in the back of your head.

Word that you were being featured at your parent’s gallery spread like wildfire, and by the end of the week, scores of people had congratulated you, even if you didn’t know them. From your sisters’ suitors to neighboring families, you received all sorts of praise. The genuine excitement and sincerity behind their words made your heart swell even more. You had finally felt like the daughter you always wanted to be to make your parents proud. Your sisters had told you that it was only a matter of time until your talent had been recognized, but what warmed your heart most was Doyoung gushing over how much you deserved it.

“I told you, Y/N, you had it in you all along,” Doyoung said, smiling at you from where he was perched on a stool behind his easel.

Despite your sensual encounter with the duke earlier in the week, you decided to act as casual as possible about what happened, even if it meant continuing to go to his workshop every week. He hadn’t mentioned much of it either, only telling you that he had saved the artwork in his personal gallery for only his eyes (and yours, if you wanted). Besides, you concluded that ignoring Doyoung would only lead him to ask questions that you weren’t sure you were ready to answer.

“You’re just saying that for an invite,” you teased, shooting the duke a faux-accusatory glance. Either way, it wasn’t as if he couldn’t get an invite; he was the duke, after all.

“You caught me. I’m not one to turn down free food, Lady Artois.”

You barked out a laugh, which you realized was quite improper for a lady to do. “Free food? You’re the richest man in the country!”

“Can a man not indulge in low-cost living?” he asked with a playful grin. “Food sounds far more appetizing when you don’t have to pay for it.”

You scoffed lightly, but proposed, “Then shall we go together?”

Doyoung balked, and you had to fight the laugh that threatened to escape your throat. The man was accomplished—a duke and a “master of the arts,” as you liked to put it—yet he appeared completely intimidated by your invitation to be his date. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, trying to form a sentence with no words clicking in his head, when you started to wonder whether he was flustered or trying to reject you.

You started, “Sorry, you don’t have—”

“No!” Doyoung exclaimed. You blinked a few times before he collected himself and continued, “I’d love to.”

“Doyoung, you do realize I’m asking you on a date, right?” you asked, trying to clarify your intentions. “Not… as a simple friend.”

You didn’t realize how terrified you were of being rejected, but the last thing you wanted was to get excited over Doyoung agreeing to go with you, only to later realize that he accepted your proposal as a friend. You certainly didn’t want to push him, but it was clear that the lines between you were blurred and you had no intentions of ignoring the clear attraction between the both of you.

“Yeah—yeah, of course.” Doyoung cleared his throat between his words. “You just caught me by surprise. I didn’t expect you to mention anything after what happened that night.”

“I presumed you wouldn’t either,” you said, more than thrilled by his reaction. “It always felt like we were on different planets, but last week, I’ve never felt so close to someone.”

A smile crossed Doyoung’s lips. He took your hand in his and rubbed small circles on your palm with his thumb. “Does that mean I’ve successfully courted you?”

Your eyes bulged and you nearly leaped out of your seat. “What?” you spluttered.

Doyoung simply leaned in and kissed the top of your head. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Doyoung was at your door exactly on time, fitted in an immaculately-pressed red waistcoat with a black coat over it. Despite his reputation, he was standing with his hands in his pockets and eyes trained on his shoes, like he was mentally preparing himself to see you. Like you were some silly little maiden in love, you looked at him from your window, waiting for him to knock at your door. It felt like ages before he got the courage to knock, but when he did, you jumped to your feet immediately, bounding down the stairs to get to the door.

You had told yourself thousands of times not to be nervous, that it was just Doyoung, but that was exactly your problem; it was Doyoung.

When you opened the door, it took a minute for the duke to process it. You knew Doyoung was never one to swoon over cliches, but you supposed he was eating his words now as he looked at you. Maybe it was because you weren’t dressed in your usual dress with a paint-stained smock over it, and maybe it was the fact that you were draped in a floor-sweeping gown, but Doyoung looked at a loss for words. You were nervous yourself, never having seen him like this before. Putting his own appearance aside, you didn’t expect him to look so blown away at the sight of you.

“Doyoung?” you called softly.

“Yeah?”

“Do I have something on my face?”

There was feigned innocence in your tone, but nothing was innocent about the way you were looking at him. The same went for the duke himself because his eyes were darkening as he checked you out. All you could think was how glad you were that your parents and siblings had left for the gallery earlier.

“Not at all, Lady Artois,” Doyoung said coolly. “You just look really good.”

Doyoung didn’t hesitate but you didn’t mind. He swooped in and kissed his living work of art. It wasn’t proper etiquette to kiss at the beginning of a date rather than the end, but you had been anticipating this for a week and couldn’t hold back any longer. His lips were soft and molded perfectly with yours, making your head go fuzzy and your legs go weak under you. You only grew weaker when Doyoung bit down softly on your lower lip, sliding his tongue into your mouth with a groan.

Your hands clutched the lapels of his jacket, pulling him unbearably close before you wrapped your arms around his neck. You were surprised your brain was hardly functioning at all when you had half a mind to skip the whole event and let Doyoung take you inside your own house.

But he pulled away first.

His smile was a little pained because the both of you knew you had to control yourselves, but your heart was still thundering against your ribcage. Doyoung straightened out his jacket and held his arm out for you to take, and you did so with grace.

People are going to see us together, you remembered, and your heart soared.

Doyoung didn’t let go of you inside of the stagecoach. Instead, he laced your fingers together and intermittently pressed kisses onto your palm and knuckles. You almost wished you could stay in the stagecoach with him, driving around town with your hand enveloped in his. Unfortunately, the drive came to an end and you found yourself walking into the gallery with him amidst a sea of visitors.

A lot of people immediately recognized Doyoung, pointing and whispering excitedly, like they were clinging to the newest, freshest gossip. To your surprise, the duke didn’t pull away but his grip on your hand tightened as the two of you wove through the crowd. You had told him in the stagecoach that the first people you had to see were your parents.

You wondered what they would think of you and Doyoung together. The thought made you feel a little giddy, but the excitement soon faded into nerves once you saw them. You wondered if you were supposed to let go of him and how you were going to introduce him. You had only kissed Doyoung before, neither of you putting any label on your relationship, so you weren’t sure what you were supposed to address him as.

“Mother, Father, this is the Duke of Burgundy, um—”

“It’s nice to meet the both of you.” Doyoung cut you off, bowing to your parents. While your parents looked completely taken with him already, your expression had morphed into mild shock when he said, “I happen to be completely taken with your daughter. With your permission, I would be honored to be able to stay by her side.”

“Oh my,” your mother gushed. “So that’s why you sneak out—”

“Mother!” you squeaked out but you couldn’t find it in yourself to register the embarrassment.

Doyoung had fallen for you. He wanted to court you. He liked you just as much as you liked him.

You reached for his hand, interlocking your fingers with his, and it felt so right.

“I can tell she’s fond of you,” your father told Doyoung as he sipped on his flute of champagne.

You were a little away from them, chatting with another artist about their piece. However, you were feeling a bit nosy so you couldn’t help but eavesdrop on your father’s conversation with Doyoung. Something about how slow your relationship had been with him until you both fell in all at once still made you feel a bit timid, so you were anxious to know about the duke’s inner thoughts.

“I’m glad. She’s fantastic,” Doyoung replied, and you could see your father smile and pat his shoulder. Doyoung was a bit pink in the face, and it amused you because you didn’t normally see him like this.

“Now that painting of hers makes sense,” your father said, taking another sip of his drink.

Your mouth went dry. You hadn’t regretted your decision of bringing Doyoung, but you didn’t expect your father to figure out the painting represented the both of you. Though, you were shocked at the nerve he had to tell Doyoung about it. You originally planned to take the meaning behind it to your grave.

“What?” Doyoung asked.

“This picture right here,” your father said, gesturing to your painting hanging in the main room. “I assume that’s for you.”

You swallowed hard.

You never wanted it to look too obvious, so you made the painting as abstract as you could. In essence, it was you and Doyoung embracing each other in his little workshop. The colors were vibrant, bouncing off the canvas and dancing when they caught the light. Each brush stroke seemed to breathe life into the scene as if you and Doyoung were in that workshop right now.

You were no longer paying attention to the artist you were talking to, eyes transfixed on Doyoung’s reaction. A bubble of worry rose in your throat when you saw him stiffen and take a shaky breath. You debated over whether that was a positive or negative reaction, but then you saw his eyes shift to the plaque below it that bore a few printed words.

Your name. The date. And then, in italics, the title.

Muse.

Doyoung looked so lost in his own emotions that you couldn’t exactly pinpoint his thoughts. You were searching his face for an answer, but he was too unreadable, his eyes harboring a faraway look. Thankfully, his exchange with your father had diminished your concerns.

“It’s incredible, isn’t it?” your father asked, beaming with pride.

“Absolutely,” Doyoung breathed out. “She’s my world.”

The rest of the night went by smoothly.

Doyoung was attached to your hip ever since his conversation with your father, and you didn’t dare ask him what happened, not wanting him to find out you eavesdropped. Although, you were sure he had already caught on that you knew. His eyes held a startling amount of affection and you knew it wasn’t heightened emotions due to alcohol consumption because you both declared you wouldn’t be drinking tonight.

When the stagecoach neared the town, you asked, “Doyoung, are you alright?”

“Of course. Why?”

“You professed your fondness for me to my parents without giving me any warning,” you replied shyly, looking down at your heels.

Doyoung smiled, reaching over to bring your face back to look at him. “It shouldn’t be a surprise that I adore you. I have for quite a while now.” He took your hands in his. You noticed his expression growing intense. “I want to be with you, Y/N, if you’ll have me.”

A few sparks of fondness flared up in your chest. “Of course,” you breathed out.

Doyoung leaned in close and you met him halfway, lips pressing against one another almost desperately. You held the front of his coat as you scooted closer, tempted to just get up from your seat and straddle his lap. He quickly took the lead, moving his hand to the small of your back while his tongue flicked across your bottom lip. You let him in without hesitation, allowing his hot, wet muscle to slide against yours.

The duke groaned at the taste of you, and it was a sound that made you press your thighs together and stir an unfamiliar feeling in your chest. The very fact that his kisses were doing this to you alone made you feel wary of what he was capable of, but fuck, you wanted to find out. You slid your hands from his chest to get lost in his hair, tugging when you felt his hand move to grip your thigh through your dress.

However, he pulled away too soon, leaving you chasing his lips for a brief second, and then retracing in embarrassment when you realized how desperate you probably looked.

“Stay the night with me?” Doyoung asked, reaching over to grip your hand.

You couldn’t exactly refuse. Doyoung had a strong influence over you, and kissing him already had you under his spell. At this point, you would have gone all the way with him in the stagecoach if he asked. You were completely enamored.

But the stagecoach was nowhere near Doyoung’s mansion.

“Yes,” you whispered and your eyebrows furrowed. “But where?”

“My workshop.”

“How does someone like you exist?”

You hummed pleasantly, skimming your fingers down Doyoung’s bare chest. He hissed when you traced his abs, admiring each groove in his perfectly sculpted body. Once you reached the top of his trousers, you wrapped your hands around him, skimming your nails down his back. Doyoung sighed reverently, allowing you to pull him closer for another searing kiss.

Your dress and corset had been abandoned somewhere on the floor, accompanied by the rest of Doyoung’s attire. He had turned the workshop into a private sanctuary just for the two of you. The makeshift bed wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but it was everything you could ask for. The curtains were drawn at each window, the only illumination coming from the candles Doyoung had lit in various areas of the studio.

It was the perfect place to have your first time because this place and Doyoung were your safe haven. You felt the most comfort in Doyoung’s workshop than you did anywhere else. He must have thought the same and had planned this because you were shocked to see everything relatively clean and set up for a passionate night solely for the two of you.

“I mean it. You’re perfect.” Doyoung murmured, one of his hands skimming your thigh.

He stopped at the crook behind your knee and wrapped around, pulling your leg up so that he could press his hips into yours, the growing tent in his boxers grinding against your clothed clit with just the right amount of pressure. The smallest whimper from you had him smiling, though it wasn’t the typical smile he wore; it was something more focused, more primal, like a predator that had finally cornered its prey.

“Can I touch you?” he asked.

You huffed at him. “You already are.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of Doyoung’s lip as he let go of your leg, letting it fall back onto the bed. He hooked a finger around your underwear, shifting so that he could slide them down your legs. You assisted him when it got to your ankles, kicking them off and discarding them to the side. Whatever playfulness you thought would be between you two was instantly gone when you saw the look he was giving you.

“You’re pretty wet.” His tone was blunt and not at all seductive, but the way he leered at your exposed slit was turning you on.

Doyoung’s hand skimmed up your thigh, cupping his hand over your apex experimentally and then pulling away to trace his fingers around the opening. Without any verbal warning, he used his thumb and forefinger to spread your folds, your arousal quite obvious.

His eyes found yours as he said, “Tell me whenever you want to stop.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to say anything without breaking apart in front of him. Doyoung brought his other hand to his mouth, lips wrapping around his middle and ring finger for a brief moment to supply them with extra lubrication. He brought his fingers to your opening and slowly slid them in, eyes trained on where they disappeared inside of you.

You inhaled sharply, grabbing a fistful of the bedsheets for leverage. Doyoung’s fingers started to slowly slide in and out of you, letting out shaky sighs as your walls clenched and unclenched around him. He had that look in his eyes, the same one he had when he saw your painting in the gallery, like he was seeing the most beautiful thing in the world.

“Y/N, you’re so vocal,” he crooned, admiring the way your hips bucked into his touch. He moved his thumb to glide along your clit and press down firmly, making you squeal. You could tell you were stroking his ego too much by the way he swelled with pride when your thighs twitched from the stimulation.

Doyoung continued this for a while, starting to alternate between pumping his fingers in and out of you and scissoring them inside of you. His thumb, however, remained fixed on your clit, working on it in such a torturous, delicious way. You were so aroused you couldn’t think straight, and Doyoung enjoyed depriving you like this. His intention wasn’t to get you off but to make you feel so good that you would start begging for more.

“Doyoung,” you moaned brokenly after spending way too long at the mercy of his fingers. “Finish me off, Doyoung. Please.”

“Please what?”

Ah, that question again. Initially, Doyoung never struck you as the type to tease, but right now, he was ruthless.

“Please let me cum,” you begged. Your voice was almost pitiful with the way you pleaded, but it was everything for Doyoung.

He sped up his fingers, already elated by your begging that he was more than willing to get you off to see the fucked-out expression on your face. It didn’t take very long. Doyoung’s fingers were long and hit all the right places inside of you.

“Cum for me,” he snarled.

You obliged.

It was mind-blowing, really, like you were seeing a new world for the first time. Doyoung continued to work on your clit through your high, insistent on riding it out for you as much as he could. You were a moaning mess under him, though, only calming down when Doyoung pulled away to suck the juices off of his fingers.

You were dazed when you came down from your high. The white flashes behind your eyes started to fade, and you could see Doyoung drinking in your appearance. Your eyes were half-lidded and your lips were parted in a depraved way that bordered on being wrecked. By the way Doyoung was looking at you, however, you were made aware that you were far from being done.

Taking advantage of your fucked-out and breathless post-orgasm state, Doyoung followed your line of sight and smirked, scoffing playfully.

“Curious?” he asked, tugging at the waistband of his boxers. He yanked down his underwear before you could protest, and you wondered why his cock was the most impressive one you had ever seen, flushed and hard with a large vein running along the side.

“Doyoung,” you started slowly, “enough teasing me already.”

“Why, of course, my lady,” he mused, and although his tone was playful, you could detect a sort of desperate undercurrent to his tone.

Doyoung settled on his knees instead of suspending himself over you with his forearms. He grabbed your hips and raised them for better access, one hip being higher than the other. You allowed him, unsure of the position, but he slid into you so suddenly that you couldn’t think of anything but being lost in him.

“Shit, you’re so tight,” he growled, leaning down to peck your lips once. “Fuck.”

Doyoung stayed inside of you for a moment, allowing your walls to adjust around him while he started removing your bra. His mouth traveled to your erect nipple, tracing it with his tongue as his hips started to thrust experimentally. You hadn’t ever felt anything this incredible before, and it was making you start to lose yourself.

“Doyoung!” you gasped, raising an arm to clutch your pillow for leverage.

There was something different about him right now but it was even more alluring. His hair was messier, his eyes were glazed over, and his lips were swollen. There was a desperate hunger in his eyes, licking his lips when he knew you were at his mercy. He liked it that way, liked seeing the dazed look on your face as he fucked you as hard as he possibly could.

Then, he pulled out, relishing the distraught look on your face. You panicked, wondering if he was just going to stop and leave it at that, but then he had a new order for you.

“Get on your hands and knees.”

You practically scrambled onto all fours, not quite knowing what to expect. But Doyoung mumbled out a “good girl,” and that was enough to set you on fire. He lined himself up with your core again and pushed himself inside of you, the sounds of your choked moans being music to his ears. His hands found purchase on your hips again and he began his brutal pace inside of you again.

“You like that?” he asked, and it was a ridiculous question because you were crying out in pleasure. His voice was raspy and a little gone, but it somehow aroused you even more. “Come on, Y/N, I asked if you liked it.”

“Yes!” you cried out. “Yes, I love it!”

Your head was going fuzzy at this point. Doyoung went back to fucking you into the mattress but this time, his fingers were working on your clit at the same time. You clenched around him, still sensitive from your previous orgasm but here he was, overstimulating you until you were crying for mercy.

“Cum for me,” he ordered, grabbing a fistful of your hair and tilting your head back so he could see your face as he fucked you. You whined in response, nodding as best as you could because you were already starting to crumble.

You were racing towards your second orgasm at a blinding pace, drowning in how much you loved this. You loved him. Loved the way he was being so dominant with you. Loved how your bodies fit together so perfectly and that he knew all the spots that made you feel good.

You were glad that the duke decided to take you to his workshop rather than your house because you cried out his name so loud that anyone in a close radius could hear. You fell apart harder than your first orgasm, but Doyoung was relentless, moving inside of you even as you were unraveling in front of him.

And then he pulled out when his rush of euphoria came. You were too spent and exhausted to whine about how quickly he pulled out, arms wobbling before you fell forward onto the bed. Doyoung laughed, a little breathless, and laid down next to you, panting and sweating. He looked about as wrecked as you did, but worked up the energy to pull the covers over the both of you.

“That felt good,” you warbled out, gasping for words. “Really good.”

Doyoung nodded, absolutely winded. He reached for your hand and gripped it tight.

“I saw your painting—saw the title,” he said all of a sudden. “I feel the same way.”

“Really?”

Doyoung nodded, reaching over to fix your hair. You smiled wide, reaching over to peck his lips to tell him you were all his. The two of you fell asleep in his workshop, holding each other in your arms. Doyoung pecked your forehead before you drifted into the unconscious, mumbling something against your hair.

“You’re my muse too.”

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[kaebedom-me]

Masterlist I

Headcanons

Chaeya

Modern Uni AU

More Modern Uni AU

Modern AU, sending nudes to each other

Mistletoe hcs

Wedding hcs

Modern Uni AU ft. breeding kink

Fluff hcs

Modern Uni AU - things getting a little heated in the library 

Modern Uni AU - dad friends Chaeya

Youtube gamers AU

More dad friends Chaeya

Body worship

Childe pining for Kaeya + a little bit of Diluc x reader action

Kaeya frustrating Childe in bed

Nocturnal AU - Modern Uni SMAU thing

Serial Killer AU

Modern Uni AU - dad friends Chaeya + Junior reader who stays with them

Poly (Childe x reader x Kaeya)

Giving them head

Biker AU

Tag teaming fem!sub reader

Using sub! reader

Fighting over you

Touched starved reader when they think they’re not wanted

Christmas morning cuddles

Bondage but it’s Christmas lights

Dom!reader

Aftercare after a rough session

Fireplace snuggles with Christmas cookies

General poly hcs

Reindeer accessory shenanigan 

Reader gets kidnapped

Inexperienced/ virgin darling

Tall! reader

Getting together

Vent hcs because i was sad (dark-ish AU)

Size and breeding kink 

Stripper! s/o

Jealous Kaeya because reader’s been paying too much attention to Childe

Reader using safeword + comfort

S/o being self conscious 

Feminine bf for an s/o

S/o who’s a very good cook

Rutting at the same time

General modern AU

Reader’s mental health spiralling 

S/o who’s loud in bed

Foul legacy fucking you while Kaeya watches

Tag teaming one of them w the other

Bath time

Ice skating

S/o who’s quiet in bed

S/o who got hurt

Them hogging blankets

When they’re criticised for being in a poly relationship

S/o with a non-existent refractory period

Super shy reader

Angst

Chaotic! s/o

Reader w insomnia and frequent nightmares

Reader during shark week

Telling reader their body is perfect the way it is

Uni AU - Cheerleader s/o

Them walking in on you masturbating

Reader who likes to collect things

Animal like s/o

Them being jealous of your childhood friend

Demon! FL and Vampire lord Kaeya

Mermaid! Chxxya poly relationship

Them being jealous of Thoma

Childe

His preferred dance w s/o

Nsfw dom! Childe hcs

Thigh riding

Mild-manner reader w bratty Childe

Foul legacy nsfw

Ruining foul legacy

Tattoo artist! Childe giving you a nipple piercing 

Childe’s light in his eye coming back after meeting you

Kaeya

Thigh riding

sub!Kaeya

Fatui harbinger! s/o

Fucking you in his office

Birthday gift for myself

Fics

Chaeya

Modern Uni AU

Mating press + breeding kink

Poly (Childe x reader x Kaeya)

Vent fic because i was coping w smth

Part II of shy reader hcs

Childe being jealous + fucked out reader

Childe

First time smut

500 follower special - Morning After

Kaeya

Freyz’s Kaeya - fluff drabble

Freyz’s Kaeya - angst drabble

Pretty

Lounge Chair

Vent fic - Kaeya comforts you after losing to the gacha gods

Fingers

Shower

Fuckin' thighs

Diluc

Thank for coming home gift to Diluc 

Summoning fic for Wolf’s Gravestone

#masterlist #if there's any like wrong links let me know!!! #the lack of Kaeya content on my blog is disgraceful #my respect for people who do masterlists were high before but now omg y'all this was so hard #also i hadn't realised i wrote sm already??

[kyunisixx]

chiaroscuro

artist!Robert Plant AU one shot.

a/n: this really started out as a song I wanted to write. But I knew I had to turn it into a longer writing!!

themes: fluff, mild implications of nsfw and tw: childhood trauma.

summary: in which Y/N becomes a muse for Robert, a landscape artist in more ways than one. (Man, that summary is so shit but let's roll with it)

pairing: artist!Robert Plant x fem!reader

chi·a·ro·scu·ro

the treatment of light and shade in drawing and painting.

an effect of contrasted light and shadow created by light falling unevenly or from a particular direction on something.

"Lean back for me a bit more, darling. That's right, relax."

As she moves, the old sofa creaks beneath her. Chilled air gusts through a partially opened window, making her shiver and sending miniscule bumps all over her bare skin. Her eyes drift over the fixtures inside the cozy cabin, illuminated by an outmoded oil lamp situated on the man's table. Several tiny moths were floating around it as the flame wavered ever so slightly from the breeze.

Scattered were all paintbrushes and smudges of paint were messily smeared all over the table. A round board was placed so close at the edge (one she heard him call before —a palette). In the middle is a rustic cup with half-empty, now cold tea. But a paint-smudged hand grasped on its handle and swiftly brought it over to a mouth. 

Then her eyes met his.

His frizzled, curly blond locks are pulled into a disheveled bun. One he pinned up so carelessly with a thin, unused paintbrush as to prevent it from obstructing his view but a few ringlets managed to escape and are now framing his face.

Ivory-colored shirt, a few buttons undone to reveal smooth skin of his collarbones which were also marked with a few shades of paint. Some scattered across his jawline to his cheek. 

Lips are pursed and eyes are pulled into deep concentration, they are set into a particular part of her. As if to capture the exact curvature of the crease on her waist.

Salient was the cleft on his chin and the sharp edge of his cheekbones by the incandescent light lent by the lamp, making him look like a contrast between sinister and elegance.

He dipped a brush and carefully made short strokes on the canvas, pausing every now and then to look at her.

The sun was setting and the sky was shaded a dull gray, providing so little of brightness which seemed to have darkened even more being situated in a lush forest.

Many months ago at this time of the day, she would have just been getting up from her sleep. Wake up and get ready for a long shift. It was a routine she had gotten so used to every day.

Take a bath. Eat. Pick out an outfit. Put on makeup. Be into the persona.

She would become a completely different person as soon as she stepped into the establishment she knew for as long as she moved into the town a few months ago.

From having to move into different cities and using different names to hide her identity. All of it to escape the filthy and haunted ghost of her past. 

Screaming. Glass breaking. Bruises. Slamming doors.  All of the things a child shouldn't have to go through. She took a risk and ran away from it.

And here is where she ended up thirteen years later.

Lacklustre eyes unmoving as they steadily stared back at her in a blurry mirror inside the changing room. All the girls' chattering seemed to have been muted and faded in the background as she gazed at her reflection. She picked up the small item in her hand, before taking the cap off and swiped the crimson lipstick across her chapped lips, creating a thick shade.

"Y/N, you ready to go?"

She turned her head back to Don, the club manager. She smiled and moved her head in a single nod.

“Sure, Don. Just give me a short moment”. She adjusted the strap of her black velvet dress and walked on the familiar, dimly lit hallway. Her stilettos clapped quietly on the floor as she padded and stopped in front of a red curtain covering the doorway from the side to the stage. 

"How's it going, folks? Alright, alright. I'd get right into it. This is the moment you've all been waiting for. The crowd favourite, slithers like a python, mistress of the night; Marilyn"

Then, she waited as the main lights switched off and took her cue to enter as smoke filled the platform. Coloured lights gleamed right through. She situated herself right in the middle then circled her hand on the pole as the first note of the song started to hum quietly. Like a distant patter of rain—calm before the storm. Her hips moved into the rhythm and fluidly sneaked around the pole as the cloud of smoke started to clear out. Gazing into the crowd of men, her blood-red lips quirk into a smirk.

It was the only time she knew she had complete power and control. And she relished it, savoring the potency. 

Her hands smoothed all over her now slightly perspired skin as men clamored and hooted for her. Bills were haphazardly thrown into the dancefloor. Something that she wasn't used to when she first started, it made her feel cheap. Dirty. But her routine carried on almost every night, she eventually got used to it and had even grown to like it.

Then she spotted him. 

Big ball of golden hair illuminated by stage lights. He was situated amongst the sea of predators, his eyes followed the fluidity of her movements. But what struck her the most was the way he was watching her. It wasn't shadowed by lust, but more of an intense wonder and curiosity. It was as if he was memorizing each part of her curves, but for another purpose.

Her gaze somewhat mirrored his. He definitely wasn't strange-looking. Hell, he might have been the most beautiful man she has ever seen. He didn't belong to a place where no good men wander around. Both his beguiling beauty and aura was completely out of place for such a place like this.

The song then came to a stop. Her number was over but her eyes remained locked with his. It was only then she came back to consciousness as Don's voice boomed into the large speakers, signalling the end of her performance. She collected the bills scattered on the floor and walked off the stage, throwing a last glance into the crowd as she took her exit.

He was gone.

He wouldn't show up for a couple of days. She was sure, of course. The moment she steps out, her eyes would already be skimming through the lounge, and would sigh in disappointment if she didn't spot any sign of him.

"Have you seen your mysterious man yet?"

One of the girls she was closest to, Hershey, asked as she counted the thick block of bills on her hand.

"He wasn't out there tonight"

"You could have been hallucinating. Anyway, you told me he was 'like an angel'"

Hershey laughed, mimicking the way she had said the last part with a breathy tone and added, "Or could have been disappointed in your dance number, ran away and swore to not step a foot into this place again"

She stopped momentarily, chuckled lightly and sighed, "You may not be far from the truth but we'll see."

Then he would be there the next night, positioned right at a table at the back. His curly locks gave his identity right away, with his elbows propped up and fingers poised against his chin, bearing the same gaze. 

Later that night, he'd be waiting right outside of the club.

"The show was spectacular."

She tilted her head to him, nodded and smiled.

"Thank you."

She wasn't sure how it ended up with her sitting on a stool inside a cozy 24-hour operating diner so late at night, chatting with her "mysterious man" late at night, who introduced himself as Robert. He was apparently a landscape artist and has traveled the world where he finds inspirations for his works.

"The best place I have ever been to? Hm. I'd say Machu Picchu, set in the high mountains of Andes in Peru, above a river called Urubamba. I had to hike all the way up, and you could see the breathtaking view when you reach the top."

"That does sound very lovely." She sighed wistfully.

"Have you ever traveled anywhere outside the country?"

"Oh no, I have not. I move to different places a lot but I've never gone out, never had the chance to."

"Ah, you should! It's wonderful."

She nodded, "Do you only do landscaping?"

"Well, no. I do a little bit of abstract art but I focus mainly on landscaping. I was thinking of expanding more, though. Maybe portrait, or nude art."

"That's a good idea. An artist has to come out of his comfort zone and be able to become great."

"Yeah…", he trailed off, as if lost in thought. "I hope this doesn't come off as strange or I as a creep. But may I ask you to be my muse? Don't worry! We'll only do portrait." He added the last sentence quickly.

She tilted her head to the side and looked at him, her brows furrowed deep in thought.

"You don't have to s—"

"I'll do it."

A few days later, she was again popped up on a stool inside his flat just a few blocks away from the club. His place was spacious, but had a very rustic feel to the interior design. A few souvenirs from different countries were neatly placed on a shelf and most of his paintings were hung stylistically on the walls (in which she stared at in complete awe for what she could tell an hour each painting until he had to drag her away to his studio)

Her fingers fiddled as she tried to stay still under his calculating gaze. She never had much problem with how she looked and never had insecurities. Perhaps she just didn't care enough to be insecure. But at that moment, she thought of how she must've appeared to him and if she was good-looking enough to be an inspiration for his art.

"Are you alright there?"

"Yes! Yes, I… Yeah I'm alright."

His hand stopped and placed the paintbrush on the table. "Are you sure? If you're not comfortable or if you need a break, we could stop for a bit."

She shook her head vigorously, "No, it's okay. Don't worry."

"If you say so."

She let her eyes travel from his bare foot, to his khaki trousers, to his satin shirt with top three buttons undone, to his face. Oh, his gorgeous face. It was pulled into a deep concentration as he stared at his work, giving her some time to study his majestic features.

His eyes flickered to hers as if sensing her stare and playfully frowned, a small smile curled on the side of his lips.

"What?"

"What?"

He laughed, "You were staring."

"I was. Is it a crime?"

"No, I wouldn't say it is." He said with a teasing edge to his voice. 

It was their arrangement which they stick to a few times a week. On her day off, after work if she wasn't feeling too exhausted. There was an obvious attraction lingering inside the room of his small studio but none of them acted upon it other than just casual flirtations thrown around. He was a perfect gentleman and had always been accommodating. A couple of times he would insist on paying her in which she would always refuse to accept. 

"The tea you make for me is enough for a payment." She had jokingly said. "Do not worry about it, Robert. Really, it's okay. I'm making enough from my job."

One night, after their sessions, they had too many drinks and bottles were littered over the table along with his paint brushes which had long dried of paint. 

"Tell me about you, Marilyn. Mistress of the night, who apparently, slithers like a python." He mused, mentioning her alias. His glossy eyes filled with mirth.

She snorted, took a long swig of beer and swiped the back of her hand across her mouth. 

"Marilyn is… Nobody. I'm nobody. I came from somewhere that in my mind, ceased to exist." She stared ahead. "I ran away from home. Who calls it a home anyway?" She laughed humorlessly.

"My parents fought a lot. They spent so much time fighting, they didn't even have time for me. Looking back at it now, I could have just preferred that. But then, they turned their anger towards me." She sniffed and quickly wiped the salty tears before they even slid down to her flushed cheeks.

"I went to my grandparents. They loved me so much and I loved them so dearly. But they were not my parents. Eventually, both of them passed away and I was left on my own. But I was eighteen. I didn't have to go back to my parents. So I went to different cities, finding places where I could feel like I could fit in. Looked for jobs, and then I ended up here. I made friends and I have my own place, but it still never felt like home."

He was quietly staring at her, and the silence was deafening. Then he lifted his free hand to her face and ran the back of his index finger to dry her cheeks. Her hand caught his and brought it to her lips and placed a soft kiss. 

"But with you, it feels… different. I like hanging out with you. I like being with you. You feel like home to me, Robert."

Her voice echoed softly as he took his time to reply. But he didn't, instead, he leaned down and sealed his lips against hers. 

He layed limply on top of her body as he shuddered from his release. Both tried to desperately catch for their breath as her hand smoothed down his back and the other combed through his damp locks. He slid out of her and dropped beside her, not too long before he enclosed his arms over her and pulled closer. He catches her lips on his in a lazy kiss and smiled.

"You feel like home to me too, Y/N."

Her heart soared and nuzzled her nose against his.

"I want to paint you like this. May I? You are so beautiful. In light and in shadow."

She blushed, "Yes, but right now? I'm tired."

"No, no. We'll do it tomorrow. I'll take you somewhere." His warm breath hit her skin as he whispered.

"Where?" She whispered back.

"Well, I'm not telling you that. But it was what I helped my Father build when I was younger. It's somewhat like a special place for me, and I want you to see it."

He gazed at her as he waited for her to respond.

"Okay."

Under the light of the lamp, she peers at him under her lashes.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Mm? I have no idea what you are talking about."

"You know what it is. Cut it out or I'll never get to finish this."

She huffs. "You're no fun"

"I can prove you otherwise in a few minutes."

He continued to do his finishing touches and leaned back to admire his work.

"That isn't too bad. But nothing compares to the real art."

"And what might that be?"

"You, my love." He stood up, walked over to where she was, placed his hand at the back of her neck and pulled her to him.

"I've been waiting for this for hours."

"I've been giving you hints and you insist on finishing your art."

He chuckled. "Of course I had to."

His fingers danced their way from her sides to her hips, rubbing along the marks littered across her skin.

"Are you ready to see it?" He murmured against her neck. She shudders as she nodded, giving their playful banter a break. 

He bit her earlobe softly, "Okay."

He walked over to his canvas and carefully turned it around to face her.

She gasps.

.

⭐ writings list ⭐

.

taglist: @jonesyjonesyjonesy , @princesspagey , @ritacaroline , @jimmys-zeppelin , @rebel-without-a-zeppelin , @reincarnated70sbaby (if you wanted to be added in, let me know 🤘🏻🤗)

#robert plant x reader #robert plant #led zeppelin #fanfic #led zeppelin fanfic #led zeppelin imagines #john paul jones #john bonham #jimmy page #fluff #cabincore #rustic #artist!au

[brandstifter-sys]

Batter Up

@dukexietyweek​ Day 5 - School 

Word Count: 2680                (Ao3)

Pairing: Dukexiety

Characters: Remus, Virgil, Patton

Rating: T

Warnings: mild innuendo

Virgil used to play softball before coming out and moving in with his brother. In this new school he doesn't touch sports, except for gym class and watching the baseball team practice, for artistic reasons, and because he has a crush on one of the players, Remus. But one day after accidentally breaking a bat and Remus' windshield in gym, Virgil gets a surprising offer from Remus, to show him a thing or two about the sport. Virgil tries to play dumb about the game and breaking the windshield just to get this kind of time with Remus, but who's to say Remus isn't trying the exact same thing to get closer to the shy emo?

---

No one seemed to think he would be capable of any great physical feat, but he didn't like to put himself out there so he couldn't blame them. Virgil was just glad that no one he particularly cared about was in his gym class.

"Oh shit," he grumbled under his breath, holding the dented metal bat in both hands. Everyone else was staring off in the distance, watching the arc of the baseball he gutted fall in the distance.

"Virgil, have you ever played on a team before?" Coach Patton asked from the mound. Virgil shook his head and shied away from the fresh-out-of-college teacher. It was a lie but he was not about to admit he played softball before he moved to this town with his brother.

"Well you have a knack for it! If you want to join the team, let me know!" Patton chuckled and pulled another ball from his pocket, "But I need you to go back inside to switch out that bat."

Virgil had never been happier to get away from class than in that moment. The ball landed in the parking lot and set off a car alarm. His classmates were starting to stare. He carried his shame across the lawn and into the gym, grateful he didn't get drafted or scolded. He didn't need that attention from anyone, ever.

Almost anyone.

Virgil could admit he liked watching the school team practicing, judging their stances and strategies from behind the bleachers. He had no problem with sketching the players in action, it was great practice, but one always stood out. Remigio Alesini, or Remus as he preferred. He wanted to catch Remus' attention.

Virgil couldn't help but notice him—he was loud, proud, and had a unique way of moving. That and he was weirdly charming, sweet and vile, a chaotic blend of energy in a handsome meat suit. He was smart, strong, kind, and he had a lot of friends. Virgil hated having a crush on him of all people.

Rather than dwell on the guy who had to repeat kindergarten and wasn’t in his gym class, Virgil flicked on the lights in the supply room and sought out a new bat, hoping that his unofficial home run wasn't the hot topic still. He would be surprised at how long it would haunt him.

---

It was after hours and Virgil was behind the bleachers, sketch pad out and pencil ready. He was working on a more detailed sketch of Remus and wanted another look at those bright features. But as the team finished running laps, Virgil caught sight of Remus' concerned expression.

"Hey Ree, what's doin'?" one of his teammates asked as they gathered their equipment.

"My windshield has a wad of ball guts jammed into it, it's not a big deal but whichever one of you chuckle fucks did it is gonna pay!" Remus laughed, and laughed harder and at the teammate's expression—sheer terror. Virgil was twice as terrified.

"Can't get your crush with a busted windshield?" a different teammate, Remy, jeered.

"You still have the hots for his brother, you have no room to talk!" Remus grinned, "Especially when you're dating my brother!"

"Alright boys and non-binary sluggers," Coach Patton said as he approached the dugout, "Save the chatter for later, we have to be ready for the game on Friday! Get in the field and have a catch while I set up the bags!"

"But we were talking about Ree's busted windshield!" Dave, the shortstop with a wild mop of hair and glasses, countered.

"So that's the car that got hit!" Patton mused. Virgil froze and prayed Patton would keep his mouth shut. He did not want Remus to be pissed off at him, or the rest of the team, but unlike them, Remus mattered to him.

"Who did it? When did it happen?"

"It was during one of my gym classes today, and I was stunned! I don't think I ever saw anyone do that in real time! He was just as shocked, I think!"

"Who was he?" Remy pressed.

"That's not important right now, it's baseball time!" Patton said, "Now go partner up!"

Virgil sighed in relief as the team split up to practice. Patton could keep quiet so he could get back to drawing.

About an hour and a half later, he was adding detail to a sketch of Remus when he was batting. Each curve had to be precise, all the proportions correct, the energy in the pose perfect before he could add those eyes and that smirk. He didn't even realize that the majority of the team was gone.

"Hey there!" Remus greeted him from behind, making Virgil jolt and clutch his sketchbook to his chest.

"Easy! Sorry for spooking you!" Remus chuckled, "Thought you might want to get out of here since all the models are gone—except me, but I don't mind modeling for you in a more private setting!" He winked, getting Virgil to turn red.

"I don't draw nudes, if that's what you're thinking," Virgil grumbled, wishing he could disintegrate on the spot. Remus beamed, his cheeks taking on a pink hue.

"Now I'm thinking about it! But I get the impression you're looking for some dynamic poses that require clothes—or you really like baseball!"

"I mean, yeah, both, but it's not a big deal. Shouldn't you be with your team?"

"Nope! They trust the gym showers and I don't! Besides, I've been meaning to talk to you since you're always here!"

"I can go if it's a proble—"

"No! It's cool!" Remus cut him off quickly, "I'd like to see what you're drawing if that's cool, and if not maybe I could show you some stuff like using a glove or batting since they're doing baseball in gym and stuff!" He was grinning like crazy and Virgil was sure his heart was going to explode. This was the perfect opportunity to get close without too much risk. He just had to play dumb to get the most out of this one-time chance.

"If you want to, you can show me some stuff, but you don't have to," Virgil shrugged and rubbed his neck shyly.

"I want to show you a lot of stuff, Virge, but let's stick with baseball!" Remus giggled and took Virgil's hand, internally screaming when the emo decided to hold it and get up.

"You can show me other stuff another time," Virgil grumbled and prayed he wouldn't make a fool of himself.

"Only with permission!" Remus laughed, a genuinely amused kind of laugh, and dragged Virgil onto the field towards the dugouts.

"So, uh, what are you showing me?" Virgil stammered, kicking himself for being so timid. Remus didn't seem to notice it, or at least he didn't acknowledge it.

"Well I was thinking about showing you how to throw, maybe pitch, and then how to hold a bat! But if there's anything you want me to show you, I can! As long as it's not too illegal—I'm not about to expose a minor to—"

"I'm eighteen. Try again," Virgil cut him off and scowled. He was baby-faced, sure, but that didn't mean he was that young. He frowned at Remus, who was digging through a storage box by the home team dugout.

"There's still other kids on school grounds! You're not stuck here alone with me!" Remus jeered and pulled out a mitt. He tossed it to Virgil and grabbed a ball.

"You know how to put that on, right?" Remus teased as Virgil stared at the mitt. He knew that he was not holding a standard glove, it was a catcher's mitt, but if he said anything, Remus might catch on that he knew far too much to need this.

"No, it's not like I have to use one in gym class," Virgil retorted wryly—he was not about to play that dumb. Remus giggled and moseyed to the dugout bench and grabbed his own glove.

"Did they teach you how to catch a ball without getting hurt?"

"Yeah, use the mit like a scoop and try to catch with the webbing between the thumb and fingers. Unless that's wrong," Virgil answered. Remus smiled at him and nodded.

"I guess Patton taught you guys how to throw too. Good. Those are the most important parts of the game!"

"I guess they are," Virgil mumbled. He hadn't really thought about it. He was too preoccupied with keeping his eyes away from Remus and not staring too long. He heard Remus jog a short distance and glanced up to see him standing on the pitcher’s mound, his glove at the ready.

“Toss it here!” Remus called, bouncing on his heels, ready to dive if Virgil’s aim was off. Virgil relaxed his shoulders and planted his feet before rearing his arm back and snapping it forward, flinging the ball into Remus’ glove without much struggle. He paled when Remus cheered and ran to him.

“Okay! Pat taught you well! And my god you have a great arm! Since I don’t have to show you the basics, wanna learn to pitch? I’m usually third base, but I can cover the mound in a pinch so I’m not talking out my ass!”

“Shit spews from both ends?” Virgil scoffed, immediately regretting it. Remus just laughed, like a hyena.

“Now that’s the kind of spunk Remy wishes he had! C’mon, I’ll show you the technique and you can show me what you got!” Remus said and dragged Virgil to the mound leaving no room for argument.

“Alright so the first thing is your stance, you gotta stand with your side kinda pointed at the plate, whichever side you have the glove on,” Remus explained and stood on the mound, mimicking his own instructions, “Keep your feet shoulder width apart and your body straight, putting your weight on your back foot. Then you bring both your arms in front of you and in one motion and lift your front leg so it’s parallel to the ground, like this. And then you’ll bring that leg down in a wide step with your toes pointed at the plate, keeping your body facing either first or third base, and your arms up about shoulder height with the back one bent upward by the time your foot meets the ground. And you’re gonna push off with your back leg to get some real power as you throw, and you want to follow through, leaning over your front leg to really drive that ball home.” He repeated all the steps in one swift motion and hurled the ball over home plate, and into the fence behind it.  

Virgil was stunned, and he wasn’t going to tell Remus it was because his form was so bad but the throw was decent. Remus could live thinking he just impressed Virgil, he looked like he just won the biggest prize at a rigged carnival game, happy and flushed as he fetched the ball.

Virgil was less stunned and more startled when that ball came straight for him. He caught it without getting hurt but he would have liked some warning!

“Nice catch!” Remus beamed and ran over to him, dragging him to the pitcher’s mound, “Now you try!” He stepped back to give Virgil room and watched with interest as the emo took a deep breath and glared at the plate.

It was like second nature, he rocked his foot back and turned his other foot into the rubber pivot to keep from sliding. He reared his leg up and snapped forward, shifting his weight and moving his hips before his shoulders, lobbing the ball into the same fence, with more force behind his throw than Remus expected.

“Holy shit! That was awesome Virge! Do you always wear the hoodie to hide those arms? They’re probably so distracting!” Remus said and wrapped his arm around Virgil’s shoulders, “Oh yeah, you’re hiding some serious muscle under that hoodie! Lemme get you set to use them on the offensive!”

“You mean—?” Virgil muttered, willing away his blush and any latent feelings bubbling in his stomach. Remus was touching him and praising him, how was he supposed to keep his mind from racing?

“Batting! I won’t throw anything at you, but a good stance is important too! Hold that thought!” Remus giggled and took his glove. He skipped to the dugout box and swapped the glove for a bat. The same bat Virgil had to bring out earlier during gym class. He should have been more disturbed by it, but he was still a little put off enough to remember that he was the reason Remus would have to get a new windshield.

Remus dragged him to the plate and thrust the bat into his hands with a cheeky grin.

Virgil was weak in the knees, resting the bat on his shoulder as he tried not to think about Remus complimenting him over and over or that he accidentally cost Remus a trip to the mechanic. He wanted to believe there was something more there, like he wanted to pass out and not wake up.

"Alright, first," Remus said and placed his hands on Virgil's shoulders, "your footing is important," he nudged Virgil's feet into position with his own, pressing against his back, "they should be parallel like this."

"Oh—okay, um," Virgil winced. He couldn't have been that nervous! But when Remus slid his hands down his arms to his hands, Virgil wondered why he wasn't more nervous. That touch was far too gentle, almost reverent.

"You want to choke up on the bat more, like this—" he guided Virgil's hands on the bat, and didn't let go, "—and lift it off your shoulder." His breath was tickling Virgil's neck and Virgil could feel how close he was.

"Now bend your knees a bit and stick out your ass, and you'll be able to break my windshield again."

Virgil's breath caught in his throat and he dropped the bat. He was dead meat and his heart was racing.

"I—I–I'm sorry," he stammered, on the verge of tears. Remus hugged him and rested his chin on his shoulder.

"It was an accident. I'm not mad. I'm impressed! Coach told me all about it! And I thought you couldn't get any hotter!"

"What?"

"You're hot as hell and you gave me an excuse to talk to you, see how much skill you have, and ask you out!"

"Remus?"

"I've had a crush on you since freshman year! My god you have no idea how much of a spaz I was whenever I thought about you! Roman lost his shit I was so sappy and annoying! And that's saying something! I got over the craziness sorta but yeah I like you a lot!"

"Even if I—" Virgil winced and tried to keep from touching his binder.

"Even if you're not cis! You're you and I like that! So now you know what you're getting into if you agree to go to the movies with me since you busted up my car!"

"Can we get water ice and hang out instead?" Virgil asked and turned around in Remus' loose hold.

"I mean I wouldn't have the same chance to make out with you in the dark, but I like that idea!" he giggled.

"I could still kiss you if you want."

"Even if I want it right now?"

"Yeah," Virgil said and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, “but if you have time after the water ice, we can watch Zombieland at my place with the lights out.”

“That’s a dangerous compromise,” Remus giggled, his face a lovely cherry shade.

“If you try anything too crazy, I’ll show you how I really use a bat,” Virgil countered, only to have Remus pull him close and hug him while he bounced on his heels. It was hard to tell who was happier when Virgil hugged back. It was probably the coach watching the pair from a safe distance away. It was nice to see those kiddos finally getting together!

#dukexietyweek2021 #remus sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #dukexiety #trans!virgil #ftm!virgil #patton sanders #sex mention tw #sandyscribed

[crimsonrae]

So I had this idea. Henry has this girlfriend right, and she's pretty independent. She never has the usual worry about money (and not just because she's dating a rich man). Later Henry finds out that she has an Only Fans. A very successful Only Fans. It's not very explicit, she usually posts very tasteful nudes that don't show the good bits or her face so she stays anonymous. Obviously he confronts her about it.

What I want to know is, how do you see this interaction going down? 😘

I apologise if I already sent this to you.

Okay, I had to think about this one - and look into what Only Fans is 😁.

Honestly, I don’t see this interaction going well...but that depends on how he finds out about her career. I think Henry is a person that is big on mutual trust and an understanding that he values privacy.

So here is a best-case and worst-case scenario.

The good interaction:

She is upfront right from the start - maybe she doesn’t give him the full details, but she alludes enough to her work that when she does feel she can divulge the full spectrum that he isn’t all that surprised.

“So... you know how I told you that I do modeling, some nude, but for a website?”

Henry blinks and nods, “Yeah...?”

She shifts uncomfortably but knows that this is a conversation that needs to happen before their relationship goes any further, “Well I actually take and post the photos... it's on a site called OnlyFans.”

“The cam-girl site?” He interrupts, not able to keep a mild tone of disapproval from his voice as he watches her tense. Defeat starts to gleam in her large eyes and he feels like a heel. Slowly, he places his hand over hers and squeezes, silently letting her know that he’s listening.

This is her chance to explain.

She takes it, “There are cam-girls, yes. I don’t do videos...just photos. I have a stage name and I never show my face... you know what?..It'll be easier if I just show you.”

With trembling hands, she pulls her phone out and navigates to her account. Her stomach flutters with nervous apprehension as she slowly hands the device to him. This is it. This will either make or break them.

Henry takes the slim gadget gently from her fingers, his expression blanker than a wall as he scrolls through her page. He sees that she has an impressive number of followers, but he is even more impressed by the quality of her work. It’s startlingly alluring and tasteful... It reminds him of the seductive covers of the market romance novels. Something that is meant to entice and evoke a person’s darker desires and imagination, but still retain a bit of mystery.

After a few minutes, he slides the phone back to her with a sigh before gradually nodding, “Okay.”

She blinks unsure, “Okay?”

“Yeah, thank you for telling me. I know that wasn’t easy, but as long as this doesn't become more...pornographic, for lack of a better term, I’m okay with it.” He said quietly with a soft smile.

Her eyes were wide, unable to believe how well this went, “So you’re not angry...disgusted?”

A chord of sadness struck Henry at her timidity and shook his head, “No..no, of course not. This is more like art...it’s beautiful. Besides it’d be a tad hypocritical with the amount of sex scenes I’ve filmed. This isn’t too dissimilar to what the body doubles do on set.”

“Henry...” She breathed, overwhelmed by the gratitude she felt for this gentle bear of a man. 

He chuckled at her flustered mien and leaned down to press a chaste kiss to her brow, “Breathe, luv.”

The vague thought of introducing her to his agent crossed his mind, body doubles weren’t easy to come by, but that was a talk for another time.

The Bad Interaction:

She isn’t upfront with him and he discovers her page when a costar is talking about her photos.

Waiting had never been a strong suit of his, Henry stared boredly into the set rafters as he waited for the crew to finish fixing a broken prop so shooting could begin again. He had been texting his girl, but she had put a pause on their conversation to go have dinner with a few friends.

Idly, he glanced over to his costar Malcolm, decent enough bloke, but Henry wasn’t sure he’d be friends with him offset. Still, the other man hadn’t uttered a word in ten minutes after making passing observations for the past hour, Henry could only wonder what had captured his attention.

Malcolm was suckered into his phone, eyes wide as he scrolled when he noticed Henry’s curious stare. He smiled sheepishly and turned his phone over, “Sorry, probably shouldn't be looking at these here... but I just love Masked Ivy’s photos. She’s such a tease...she just uploaded her latest set.”

Henry hesitated for a moment, brow furrowing - relatively sure his colleagues was talking about a porn star, “Masked Ivy?”

Malcolm blinked, surprised, “You haven’t heard of her? She’s huge! - Not physically, but.. well, you know.” He handed his phone over, “No one knows her real name, but she’s an artist, man. I wish I could get her number...cuz she is fine.”

Partially out of politeness, more out of insatiable curiosity, Henry looked at the photos. Smooth bare flesh greeted his eyes, a pouty mouth and face hidden by shadow and a mask did little to deter from the soft swell of her pert breasts. He swallowed tightly, feeling a twinge of arousal... but also familiarity. Frowning, he scrolled down and took in more glimpses of this woman’s bare body. 

Then he saw it.

At the top of her shoulder, a birthmark that was shaped similar to a seashell... he knew that mark, he knew this body... this was his girl. A pit began to form in his stomach as feelings of betrayal began to surge and more sharply hurt. They had only been dating for about six months, but things had gotten serious, quickly. 

At least, he had thought they had been serious. His heart panged and he handed the phone back. Distantly, he heard himself say, “Yeah...she’s gorgeous.”

Malcolm grinned and nodded - moving to rave more, but Henry quickly excused himself as he pulled out his phone. She had lied to him. She had told him that she worked in web design. He formed his own account on the FansOnly site and found her page. He felt like he was looking at a stranger.

Disappointed anger, warred with the aching squeeze of his heart shattering and he steadily became overwhelmed by both. If she hadn’t told him about this...what else hadn’t she told him? 

A sickening anxiety choked at his throat as he thought of all the personal things he had told her... He felt like he was falling off a cliff and into familiar and unwanted territory, the land of broken trust. 

With trembling fingers, he pressed her number, barely able to keep his tone calm as he received her voice message prompt, “Hey...We need to talk... Call me.”

#what if #henry cavill

[mortedeveles]

Model For Me

HERE: PART TWO 

PART ONE.  PART THREE.  PART FOUR. PART FIVE. PART SIX. 

Summary: Y/N has always been a timid and awkward person and artist when it comes to social interactions and it only gets worse when she asks her crush and best friend, Katsuki Bakugou, to model for her.

And not just any type of modelling; Y/N needs to do a composition of a nude male body. Luckily for her, Katsuki's personality is anything but shy and he doesn't hesitate to undress in front of her. It's for art, he says. But something tells Y/N that the boy has hidden and devious intentions, intentions that she has to unravel and discover. 

Copyright © 2020-2021 by Veles.

Genre: fluff, humor, suggestive content (a wee bit of NSFW themes)

TW: cursing, sexual themes, nudity.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x fem!artist!reader

________

QUIRK: LIQUIFY! Y/N can manipulate any type of liquid to her advantage and can also melt inanimate objects, but doesn't work on animals, plants, or people. And at night time she can make any type of liquid into a solid!  

_________

a/n: so here’s the second part!! we have 2-3 parts left! the first part wasn’t proofread when i published so i’m going to fix any grammar errors it may have </3. i’m a new fanfic writing blog, so please consider checking out my other works, followng me and leaving a like and/or reblogging!! i would really appreciate it! enjoy!

Today had been a good day so far. You hadn't encountered any problems up until now- your hero training had gone smoothly, you even managed to beat Uraraka in a match!-so hopefully, you could ask Katsuki the dreadful question and not die in the process.

Hopefully.

Once the final school bell rang, you could feel your soul leave your poor body. It was nearly time. Everyone began to pack up and head out of the classroom when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

''Y/N?'' Momo looked concerned. ''School is over. Are you still coming over today?''

Shit. You had totally forgotten about that. Mustering a smile, you shook your head.

''I'm sorry, Momo, I won't be able to go today. I have some art projects to do,'' 

She nodded in understanding and patted your shoulder.

''Very well. See you later, Y/N. Take care!'' 

You offered her a wave and a smile. Once she had left, you dropped the facade and groaned. There were still some of your classmates inside and thankfully, Bakugou was one of them. You could feel his eyes burn into your side. He had agreed to stay after school, but you refused to explain what you needed.

Once the classroom was nearly empty, you took a shaky breath as you slung your backpack over your shoulder, rising from your seat and leaned against the exit.

You stared at the floor while you waited for everyone to leave and once the classroom had gone silent, you raised your head. 

Katsuki was the only one left. He was scowling as usual as he approached you, hands stuffed in his pockets.  

''So, what did you want nerd?'' Katsuki grunted. 

You swallowed thickly as you played with your hands. God, how were you supposed to ask him to model for you? All your previous confidence and courage had slipped away in the blink of an eye. You should've written it down...

''Um, well, you see,'' you stammered and coughed awkwardly. Katsuki furrowed his eyebrows and you swallowed nervously. His patience ran thin with every second that you were wasting.

''Spit it out already,'' he growled. 

''Okay so, IwaswonderingifyoucouldmodelnudeformecauseIneedamalemodelpleasedon'tkillme,'' you spoke so fast that all your words glued together and Katsuki looked shocked.

He didn't reply and only stared at you with an expression you couldn't understand. Was he mad? Did he even understand what you had just said?

''Hah?!'' 

Uh oh. You felt embarrassment course through your body as you shook your head in denial. No, no! That came out so wrong!

''Oh god, I'm such an idiot,'' you breathed. ''I'm so sorry Katsuki, I'll stop wasting your time,'' 

What were you thinking?! you yelled at yourself, shaking your head as you began to walk away. While you muttered incoherent words and cursed at yourself, you hadn't noticed that Katsuki had regained his composure and wore a smug grin as he reached out for your arm.

''You should really talk slower, shitty nerd. I barely understood what you said. Learn how to fucking speak, will you?'' he snapped, eyes blazing but there was a grin on his face, so you hoped that he wasn't as mad as he sounded. 

You froze when you felt Katsuki's warm and heavy hand wrap around your elbow. His grip was strong and firm but not to the point that it hurt.

Quickly, you turned around and nearly headbutted Katsuki. Luckily, he managed to dodge your head and snickered.

''Um, yeah okay...anyways, do you think you can do it?'' 

He sighed and nodded, releasing your elbow and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

''Tch. Okay, I'll do it.''

A few moments passed in silence until you realized he had agreed.

''Yes, oh my god, thank you so much Katsuki!'' you blabbered, jumping on the balls of your feet as a wide smile took over your face.

Katsuki snorted and watched you with mild amusement, his muscular arms crossed against his chest.

''I'm so glad you agreed, Katsuki! I was so afraid I was going to ask a random guy to model for me and that would've been so awkward-,'' you stopped and took a deep breath. Screaming and jumping around really did a number on you.

Once you had regained your breath, you met Katsuki's red eyes with a wide grin. He rolled his eyes and stepped forward, grabbing your chin with his fingers and tugging you forward.

''Woah! What are you doing?'' you stammered, feeling your heart beat so loud it was a surprise Katsuki didn't notice.

''Don't think I'm doing this for free. I'm only stripping because it's for art,'' he said with a scowl. ''And since I'm doing you a favor, you're going to have to do something for me,'' he grinned like a madman.

''What..what do you want..?'' your voice faltered. You felt your stomach twist and flip. Katsuki was so close to you...he smelled like a warm and rich campfire and toasted marshmallows...

His grin grew wider at your hesitance. You prayed that he didn’t notice how flustered you were.

''I'll tell you after the modeling,'' he stated, leaving no room for argument. You swallowed nervously and nodded.

''Okay, sure..''

''Tch. Whatever. Besides, the only guy you'll be seeing naked is me, so be glad I decided you help your ass out. Text me the details. Later, shitty nerd,'' he grumbled. You nodded vigorously and everything he had just said flew over your head. You waved him goodbye with a stupid smile on your face.

It wasn't until Katsuki left that you registered what he had just said. 

''Wait...'' you mumbled. 

''What the hell did that mean?!''

You could feel yourself getting flustered again. Damn him! It seemed that when he was around, all you could was act like a giddy idiot.

You two were close friends, but not the point where you were comfortable with physical intimacy. And since it was Katsuki Bakugou, you doubted he was cuddly towards anyone.

Whatever, you thought. I'll just ask Aneko what he meant.

                         ━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

You found yourself covering your tender ears as Aneko let out a shrill scream.

''Jeez,'' you complained. ''Are you a screaming banshee?''

Aneko frowned in response and swatted your head.

''Don't you get it? He likes you!'' she exclaimed. ''I've never been more sure about anything in my life! Trust me, I know what I'm talking about,'' she held her chin between her two fingers and had a thoughtful expression.

''I think he's the possessive type,'' she mused. ''Definitely. It's obvious from what he said. Not to mention that when he met me, he wanted to kill me for hugging you.''

You rolled your eyes but you could feel butterflies swarming in your stomach as a giddy smile escaped you.

''Maybe you're right,'' you said. ''I just hope nothing goes wrong..''

''Of course, I'm right,'' you could hear the smugness in Aneko's voice. ''When I have ever been wrong?''

You opened your mouth to protest, but Aneko shushed you and placed your phone into your hands. 

''You should text him already. When are you guys planning to meet?''

You shrugged.

''I don't know. It's better to do the art piece in one session so that I can capture the same lighting and shadows, but honestly, I don't think I can work for more than 3 hours straight. Besides, I don't think Katsuki would handle it,''

Aneko hummed in response. ''You're right.''

''Well, it's up to you. I have to leave, mama's making soba tonight,'' She pressed a quick kiss on your cheek before heading out of your room.

''Okay, tell your mom I said hi!'' you called after her.

''Will do!" Aneko's voice echoed from below.

Frowning, you stared at your phone. You wanted to finish the art project quickly, but you had no idea how to organize the sessions...

Hell, you had never done a live session with a nude model before, so you felt absolutely clueless. Most of your references were pictures you would find on the internet and art books.

After several attempts of typing and deleting, you decided on a final message.

Y/N: Hey Katsuki! Would you like to do the modeling in one session? It would be really long...like five to nine hours? Or would you rather do several short sessions?

Once you had pressed SEND, you stared at your phone for several minutes. No response.

Huffing, you threw your phone aside and laid down on your bed. Maybe he was just busy. Yeah, that was it, it wasn't like he was ignoring you.

You groaned and slapped your hands over your face. Why did you have to overthink everything?

When your phone vibrated, you jumped and quickly sat up. The phone vibrated again and you grabbed it.

Katsuki: I'll give you five sessions, three hours each. Take it or leave it, shitty nerd. We'll start tomorrow so text me your address. 

''I thought I was the artist,'' you grumbled. ''Why does he get to choose the sessions? I know he's the one modeling but it's not like he's the one doing the artwork...'' your voice trailed off as you finished reading the message and began to type a message.

Y/N: Sounds good to me! My address is xxx-xxx-xxx and do you think you could come around two o'clock? I'm free at that time.

Without another glance at your phone, you raced downstairs and headed straight to the dining room, where your mother was reading a book on the dinner table. 

''Hey mom,'' you leaned against a pillar. ''Can my friend come over at two o'clock tomorrow? He's going to help me with my art project,'' you smiled.

''Sure thing, hon. What's his name?'' She returned her gaze to her book, flipping through pages.

''Um..'' you debated whether to tell her Katsuki's name. She had seen the Sports Festival and boy, she did not like his murderous attitude. Maybe if you lied and used another name, she’d agree... But then again, she was your mother and would probably see Katsuki inside the house. The best thing to do was to come off clean. 

'’Bakugou Katsuki...'' you said meekly. Hopefully, she was so immersed in her book that she wouldn't pay attention to the name.

''Bakugou Katsuki?'' her sharp voice made you wince. ''The murderous boy from the Sports Festival? He's dangerous, Y/N! Why is he helping you?''

''Um...mom, he's kinda my classmate,'' you rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly. ''And he's friend, so don't worry about it. Once you get to know him, he's a very good person,''

Your mom sighed and clicked her tongue. ''I hope you're right about this. I have to attend something with your father tomorrow at one o'clock, so I won't be here,'' Phew, you thought. There wouldn't be any incidents and they wouldn't see a naked Katsuki in your room. 

''However,'' your mom said. ''I'm going to ask your friend Aneko to come over. She's a very polite and responsible girl, I know she'll keep you out of trouble.'' The urge to snort was so overwhelming you had to cover your mouth as you nodded in agreement.

Responsible and polite? That was the opposite of your friend Aneko. But you knew that Aneko was capable to turn into a charming exemplar student model when your parents were around.

''Yeah, sure mom. Thanks,'' you shot her a smile. She nodded in response and returned her attention to her book. You raced upstairs to your room and began to tidy your belongings. If Katsuki was coming over to your house, you needed a space where he could pose for hours. 

You pushed your desk, bed, and shelf against the walls, picking up everything from the floor and left a wide space in the middle of your room, in front of your wide windows. Since your family wasn’t rich, you couldn't afford an art studio. But you worked with what you had.

After an hour or two of tidying your room and fooling around, your phone's familiar ringtone blared. You picked up the phone and pressed it to your ear.

''What's up, Aneko?'' 

A loud shriek invaded your ears. Your lips formed a thin line and you pulled the phone away from your ear and kept it at a safe distance to ensure you wouldn't go deaf. Aneko was your friend and you knew she meant well, but she could be very vocal when she was excited. 

''Y/N L/N! My, my, I'm impressed. Your mom just texted me to ask me to come over your house and watch over you and your boyfriend Bakugou Katsuki! You sure are fast!''

You laughed softly as you sat down on the edge of your bed and swung your legs back and forward.

''He's not my boyfriend, Aneko,'' you reminded her. She huffed in response.

''It may not be official, but he's practically your boyfriend at this point. When you introduced him to me, he wanted to rip my head out for holding your hand and for hugging you! Not to mention that when you were cold and we were returning to your house, he slipped off his jacket and wrapped it around you so you wouldn't get cold anymore! And there's been so many other moments. The boy is rude and violent as hell, but I know he cares about you.'' Aneko's long speech left you speechless.

''Well...'' you laughed nervously. ''If you put it that way....''

''You just wait, Y/N. I know something is going to happen. You just sit tight and wait.''

A snort left your nose as you shook your head with amusement. ''I don't think so, Anne, but I'll hold your promise.''

''You wanna bet?''

You snickered loudly. ''Alright. I'm betting 500 yen that he won't ask me out,''

Aneko clicked her tongue in disapproval. ''Oh, Y/N, Y/N. Poor little oblivious you. I'm betting 800 yen and if I win you have to do whatever I say for a day!''

Oh damn. The bet was getting out of hand and you felt slightly nervous. Nevertheless, you kept your composure and smirked.

''Deal.''

                           ━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

It had been an hour since Aneko had arrived at your house and the two of you had tidied the house. Right now, you sat on your bed with Aneko's head in your lap.

''So, when is he coming?'' Aneko asked as she stuffed her face with cookies. You glanced at your phone and frowned. It was nearly two o'clock and Katsuki hadn't arrived yet.

''He should be here soon. I told him to be here at two o'clock.''

''Do you think he has a big dick?'' 

''Aneko!'' you scolded her. ''Don't say that! Why were you thinking about that?!'' 

She shrugged nonchalantly and met your flustered face with a devious grin.

''I just said what you were too shy to ask,'' 

Your eyes widened as you gasped and slapped Aneko's arm. She giggled and rolled on your bed, enjoying your embarrassment. Flustered, you tackled Aneko and held her down.

Despite your disapproval of her crude comments, the deed had been done. And now, you were in fact, thinking about Katsuki's dick.

''Son of a b-,'' you snarled and tackled Aneko. ''No, I wasn't! Stop being such a pervert!" you held her down while she simply cackled at your amusement. 

You were about to launch a series of hits onto Aneko, when you heard aggressive knocking at your door. Both of you flinched. 

''Speak of the devil and he shall appear,'' Aneko said and smirked. 

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. It's gonna be okay, you told yourself. Calm down. You could hear Aneko squeal as you repeated the words in your mind.

She sent you thumbs up and urged you to go downstairs. Aneko was grinning like a maniac.

Another loud knock snapped you out of your thoughts. You raced down your staircase and peeked through the windows. Katsuki stood in front of the door, arms crossed, sporting his usual scowl. You unlocked the door and exhaled loudly.

Here goes nothing. 

tag list: @deneuves​

DM me if you want to be in my tag list for this short series! i have a question for y’all, do you like how i write bakuhoe? i’m trying my best to keep him in character. 

Copyright © 2020-2021 by Veles. Do not repost, plagiarize, or read my fanfiction without my permission.

#model for me #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha #reader insert #fem!reader #artist!reader #my hero academy fanfiction #my writing #veles' writing

[starkerfestivals]

StarkerFestivals September Shuffle

Hey guys! The StarkerFestivals Summer Bingo has come to a close so we have info for the next event which has been named StarkerFestivals September Shuffle.

The goal for the event is to fit as many tropes into one universe as possible!

How does this work?

A calendar for September with possible prompts has been created for this event.

A text based version of the prompts will be included under the Read More cut.

Each day has two possible prompts to choose from. Participants can pick and choose the prompts from the calendar.

The number of prompts can be daily, weekly, or however many you wish to include to tailor the work to your liking. This can be posted as one single work or as multiple pieces all linked together in the same story.

(So for fanfics, this can be one completed fanfic or it can be a multi chapter fic that gets updated whenever a prompt is completed)

This also means that participants are not obligated to pick a prompt for every single day, but pick and choose whichever prompts they find appealing. The goal is to fit as many prompts into one work and to have fun with it!

What are the rules?

Starker has to be the main pairing/end goal pairing. As long as the main pairing and/or end goal is starker, other pairings are 100% welcome.

This event is open to everyone but we discourage minors from choosing prompts that are NSFW.

Tag @starkerfestivals​ or use #SFSeptemberShuffle for this event’s works.

AO3 collection for this will be SFSeptemberShuffle

Please tag accordingly. Applicable trigger warnings should be added to each appropriate chapter or work.

There is no word count limit or maximum. Write as much or as little as you’re comfortable with.

Mood boards, artwork, edits, head canons, are all welcome.

If it’s cracky by the end, that’s awesome! We love fun and wacky stuff to enjoy. If you manage to make it cohesive and it works together flawlessly, also awesome! Tailor this event to how you want to do it, don’t think about what expectations others might have.

More information/examples for the event can be found under the Read More. If you have any questions, please feel free to DM any of the mods or a send a ask to the blog.

Text Based Prompts for September:

1.Canon Universe OR choose an AU

2. ABO OR Secret Identity

3. Fake Dating OR Walk in Nature

4. Mild Injury OR Sharing a Bed

5. Sex Pollen OR Daily Bugle

6. Heavy Petting OR Secret Dating

7. Mutual Pining OR Getting Together

8. Drug Use OR Misunderstanding

9. Caught Having Sex OR Bath Time

10. A Wild Ex Appears OR Heat/Rut

11. Daddy Kink OR Halloween Prep

12. Pumpkin Spice Everything OR BDSM

13. On a Mission OR Cheating

14. Awkward Sex OR “Where did you come from?”

15. Bottom!Tony OR New Scar

16. Cooking Disaster OR Spit Kink

17. Bladder Control OR Little Space

18. Swapped Bodies OR Sexting

19. “Send Nudes” OR “I’m sorry, my phone died!”

20. Butt Plug OR And Now There Are Vamps

21. Scared of Storms OR Spider Gag

22. Incest Kink OR Temporary MC Death

23. “Please, I don’t wanna die!” OR Public Fingering.

24. Break Up OR Safe Word Use

25. Cause of Death: Second Hand Embarrassment OR Hate Sex

26. Love Confession OR Shower Sex

27. Giggly Kisses OR Argument

28. “You Hurt Me” OR “Let’s Watch 365”

29. Minor Character Death OR Movie Night

30. Strip Tease OR Marriage Proposal

What if I'm not writing fanfics?

Other content is welcomed as long as they are linked in the same universe. So for example, an artist can create one art piece with as many tropes as they want, or they can create a series of art pieces like a comic. The same can be done for moodboards. As long as the prompts occur in the same universe, it'll count for this event.

This is a bit confusing… Can you give some examples of how to do this event?

Say your goal is to get every single prompt filled. You would need to plan on how to fit each prompt into a single/multi-chapter fic.

Say, your personal goal was to do the prompts you like and nothing more. You would need to plan on how to fit them all into a single/multi-chapter fic.

Maybe you spend the entire month working on a one shot, where you fit all 30 prompts into one chapter.

Maybe you write a 30 chapter fanfic, posting once a day to get each prompt.

Maybe you fit 7 prompts in one chapter, and post once a week.

Maybe you only like 2 of the prompts out of all of them. So your personal goal is to fit two tropes into a single fic by the end of the month.

Maybe you like some tropes but not others. Say you like days 1-6 but not 7 or 8. So your personal goal is to get a chapter out with days 1-6 and think about 9-30 later.

Whatever you want to do, at whatever pace and whatever challenge level you want!

What happens if I miss a day?

Whatever you want to happen! You can skip that prompt if you want, or incorporate two prompts in one chapter, or plan to upload only one chapter that week with all the prompts. No big deal, it’s whatever you want.

#starker #starker event #SFSeptemberShuffle #mod post

[kilesplaysthings]

Sketches

Title: Sketches Fandom: Ikemen Vampire Character: Leonardo da Vinci  Genre: romance Warnings: None really. Just mild suggestive content. POV: female reader POV; second, I guess? Word Count: 2k+ Other comments: this just popped in my head the other day. idk I just like artists drawing their love interests. bet y’all can tell what movie I thought of, though I actually don’t really like this movie lol. I took the same liberties with da Vinci that the game does, fyi. Enjoy! ^^

***

It was morning. The dim sunlight streamed in gently, slightly hindered by dingy curtains and dodging the piles of books, maps and other endless clutter that surrounded the room. It landed gently on your fluttering eyelids and you slowly willed them open to glance up at the nearby ancient clock that hung on the wall before you.

Half-past eight?! Your eyes flew open. Oh no! You were late! Sebastian was going to kill you! Or at least, give you a whopping headache from one of his powerful flicks to the forehead. You sprung upright, about to scramble out of bed, when you paused and took a look around you. It was then that you finally realized where you were. You weren’t in your own room. Looking down, you then realized you weren’t even clothed, your nightgown discarded at the foot of the bed. Only a rumpled sheet served as your covering, and then, only barely.

Oh right, you realized, you had the day off today. You’d been given a holiday to spend with your beloved. You both had been working hard as of late and had been unable to spend much time together. Therefore, after asking Sebastian’s permission yesterday, the two of you had spent the night together in celebration of your day off. He hadn’t been opposed to it in the slightest, either. After all, Leonardo could be very persuasive.

The tiny scare had fully awakened you and you knew by now that you wouldn’t be going back to sleep. So, you took a moment to stretch a bit and rub the sleepiness out of your eyes. Your eyes then drifted down to see the man himself stretched out beside you, still fast asleep. He was lying on his back, turned slightly towards you. One arm was resting up on his pillow by his head, which gave you a full view of him. It was quite a sight to behold, with his bare chest slowly rising up and down, and only the sheet covering him – again, barely so.

A soft sigh escaped your lips; a dreamy smile came over your face. He was beautiful. You were reminded of all of the trips to art museums and of all of the art classes you took back in your school days; observing so many beautiful portraits and near-perfect sculptures that were created by Leonardo’s contemporaries. Lying there beside him, you were certain that the sight before you would have made those men green with envy. He was indeed a sight to behold, especially when he was asleep with such a carefree and almost vulnerable expression on his face. You couldn’t help yourself; you stretched your hand out to run your fingers down his cheek and neck, across those well-defined collar bones and over to one of those broad shoulders. His olive skin was smooth to the touch and it thrilled you to feel him beneath your fingertips.

All of a sudden, his larger hand came up to grasp yours and golden eyes met your own.

“Buongiorno, cara mia,” he sleepily mumbled. His voice was a gravelly timbre that sent delightful shivers down your spine.

“Good morning to you, too,” you happily replied, unable to resist the urge to bestow a tender kiss on his cheek.

Your small gift made a smile bloom over his face and he turned on his side to face you more. A muscular arm slipped around your waist to pull you closer.

“Did you sleep well?” You asked him, trying not to stare too long at that small bit of sheet that was slowly slipping off of him.

“Quite well, and you?” He quietly answered before he kissed your shoulder.

“I slept like a log.” You giggled from the ticklish kiss and ran your fingers through his chestnut locks. His low chuckle mixed with yours and he gave you a tender smile.

“If I were to be honest, I’m surprised you woke up before me,” he remarked.

“Yes, well, I nearly forgot I had the day off today,” you said wryly. “And I gotta admit, it was a pleasant sight to see: you sleeping so peacefully.” You grinned.

“Oh really?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Mhm.. if only I had a camera to capture such a moment..” you teased.

He smirked and drifted a hand down your arm. “Well, I suppose you could lug a camera up here, but I would think it would take a while for you to get a photograph of me.”

“Au contraire!” You exclaimed, holding a finger up. “I meant to say, if only I had a camera from my time! In the future, technology has evolved to the point that cameras can take a photograph instantly.”

His eyes gleamed with curiosity. “Oh?”

“Yup!” You eagerly nodded. “Not to mention, photographs can be developed and printed in an instant! It’s so common that people frame their photos and hang them on the wall or display them around their homes.” You explained.

“That sounds fantastic.” His nimble fingers danced along your collar bones, similar to what you had been doing earlier to him. “If only we had such a camera. I would love to capture your picture as well, especially like this…”

Your cheeks felt a little warmer than usual and you couldn’t help but giggle. Suddenly, an idea popped into your head. Maybe it was because of your positions, maybe it was because you were with such a man as Leonardo da Vinci, or maybe because it was April that a certain movie came to mind.

“Well, since it’s you, I know a different way you could capture me like this,” you hinted. “It’s not as fast as a futuristic camera, but it’s just as effective.”

He figured out rather quickly what you were implying. A delighted hum resonated from him.

“Hmm.. are you suggesting I draw your portrait?”

You nodded and he grinned. It was obvious the idea thrilled and inspired him.

“What a perfect idea. I have yet to properly draw you, after all, and this is the perfect setting.” His eyes drifted lovingly over your naked form before he slid out of the bed.

You watched as he went over to one of the many piles of books lying around. He pulled out what looked like a sketch pad with loose pages slipping out between its leaves. Then, after settling down in an armchair that was draped with his discarded clothing from last night, he reached over to the desk behind him and fumbled through a charcoal-crusted glass until he pulled out one of his drawing utensils.

“Now then..” His golden eyes were gleaming again as he studied you still lying in bed. He propped one of his legs up on the chair and balanced the sketch pad upon it.

“I think this calls for a couple of sketches. Just do ask I ask, capisci? I’ll tell you how I want you to pose.”

You nodded eagerly and with a grin, he got to sketching. For the next several minutes, the only sounds in the room were the gentle ticking of the clock and the scratching of his charcoal stick on the paper. Every now and then, your eyes met with his piercing gaze as he studied you before returning to the paper in front of him. You admired the intensity in his features as he concentrated on capturing you lying there amidst the sheets. Every now and then, he would quietly ask you to move around in different positions: on your stomach with your head resting in your arms; stretched out on your back with your arms above your head; reclined on the side facing him for all of you to behold. Sometimes he’d want your hair spread out on the pillows or partially covering your face. At one point, he asked you to sit up into a kneeling position, glancing at him from behind.

And oh, was he enjoying himself. As he sketched page after page, each drifting down onto the desk behind him one after the other, a satisfied smile stretched across his face and his eyes shone. You were such a sight for his artists’ gaze. Drawing you was one of the finest pleasure’s he’d ever had.

The session lasted for around half an hour, yet you were never uncomfortable. Lying in the bed was relaxing and he never asked you to do anything too strenuous. Your mind did begin to wander and you bemusedly recalled the scene of that specific movie that inspired you to suggest this idea to him. Suddenly another thought popped into your head and you couldn’t help but laugh a little.

He peered over at you from between strands of hair that fell over his eyes.

“What’s so amusing?” He wondered.

“I couldn’t help but think,” you answered as you relaxed against the headboard, “I’m being drawn by the Leonardo da Vinci. Who knows? These drawings might be discovered in an old desk drawer that’s bought at an auction someday. That’s how people in my time find artists’ lost art sometimes.”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re mistaken, cara mia,” he said softly. “No one will ever find these discarded in an old piece of furniture. I’m keeping these with me at all times.” The grin on his face was devilish and made you shiver in delight.

“Well, maybe that’s a good thing,” you murmured. “I don’t know how I’d feel about a bunch of old historians looking at nude portraits of me…”

“Exactly.” He set his charcoal down, wiped the powder from his hands on his discarded shirt, and gathered the sketches together. “Want to see them?” He asked you before joining you back on the bed.

“Hmmm…” You were a bit nervous but shrugged in agreement nevertheless. After all, nude or not, it wasn’t everyday that you’d get drawn by da Vinci himself.

Your eyes widened at the sights before you.

“This is me..? This is how you see me?” You whispered in awe. The woman before you was beautiful; smiling happily in some sketches, while adoringly gazing with longing in others.

“This is how I see you,” he replied in the affirmative. “You are my beautiful tesoro. I honestly don’t know if I did you justice, though,” He admitted. “All those years ago, when I started becoming an artist and making a name for myself, I drew mostly men, as I found them easier to paint. Throughout the years, as I watched time pass and met different people, I did start to improve in my paintings of women, yet I never knew if I could depict them as well. You, however.” He leaned close and ran the back of his fingers down your cheek.

“I have no trouble capturing you. You inspire me so easily. Your beauty and grace charm me effortlessly to the point where I could have no other muse. So many people praise my art from all those years ago, but it is only now that I have met you, that I feel like my art can truly reach its full potential.”

To say your were moved was an understatement. Your heart was beating fast in your chest and you had a feeling your cheeks were flushed. “Leonardo..” you uttered his name softly and copied his movements by stroking his own cheek.

“Thank you. I am so glad I can inspire you,” you said in a hushed voice. “I look forward to what you will show the world after this.”

He wore a satisfied grin on his face. “Then we shall see, cara mia, what the future brings. For now, though…” He took the sketches and set them aside on the nearby chair.

“I want to do more than just draw you from afar. I want to touch you and feel your warm body tangled with mine. We could even explore some of those positions I had you do earlier. What do you say, mi amore?” He winked playfully.

You had the same devilish grin on your lips that you saw on his. Wrapping your arms around him to pull him on top of you, you whispered in his ear.

“I think that’s a marvelous idea.”

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevam leonardo #happy valentines day #got it up in time lol #ikevam fanfic #writings #ikevam

[thethoughtsfromthreeam]

Sunshine

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x OC (Evelyn “Evie” Blaker)

Warnings: None

A/N: I have to admit I’m really struggling with this story.  I don’t know if my brain is finally coming to the end of this writing jag its been on for the last month and a half, but I’m determined to see it through and get it posted.  So we’ll see what the next couple of weeks bring.

Reminder:  I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit.  I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tags:  @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @beskars​ , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito​ , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale  

[PART 1] 

Part 2 

Then Move on to Dinner

As Evie disembarked from the train, she felt as if she had been taken through a ringer and thought that she probably looked it.  Such an auspicious start to her date with Maxwell Lord of all people.  But she was here and as she stepped further into Grand Central Station, she looked around for Maxwell’s driver.  When she spotted the man holding a sign with her name on it, she smiled while adjusting her small bag on her shoulder, walking over to meet him.  Her look of apology was all over her face and he could clearly see it.

“Are you Bennett?”

“I am, you must be Miss Evie.  Mr. Lord said you’d be easy to spot in the crowd.”  She laughed and he smiled at her.  They shook hands and he began to guide her out of the station, dodging the mass of people exiting the city for home after a long workday.  

“I am so sorry, Bennett, there was a delay coming out of Poughkeepsie. I know you had to have been waiting a while.”

“Naw, it’s all good.  But the traffic is a little heavy today, so let’s get going.  I know Mr. Lord is already at the restaurant.”  Evie had the rare knack for making friends with everyone she met, and Bennett was no exception.  As they walked to the car, they chatted like old friends.  They stepped out into the warm evening and Bennett pointed to the car.

As she climbed in, she continued to ask questions about the man’s family, how long he had been working for Maxwell, and when Bennett admitted he was an artist, she began to prod him about that, too.  All the while, she was in the back transforming herself from seemingly mild-manner accountant to date worthy.

She didn’t have an opportunity to get ready on the train coming into the city as she had hoped, so Evie took a chance to update her make-up for the evening and twisted her hair into a sleek up-do.  When she needed to change clothes, she asked Bennett if he could just briefly turn the mirror.  He smiled and told her that there was a partition.  He raised it and she slipped out of her sweater and slacks and into a deep gold cocktail dress.  The crepe satin had metallic thread woven through it and it sparkled in the light. When she knocked on the partition, Bennett whistled when he saw her emerge as it lowered.

“Miss Evie, I’m pretty sure Mr. Lord will have a hard time keeping his eyes off you.”  

“Yeah, well, I suppose that’s the goal of any date night, right?”  She grunted as she moved to put on a pair of nude flats.  As she put on her jewelry, Bennett kept talking.

“For sure, my Bette, that first night we met, I knew I was going to marry her.  I couldn’t keep my eyes off her.  She wore this pink dress that just. . . .  Well, let’s just say it was a good night!”

They both laughed and soon Bennett was pulling up to the restaurant. She cleaned up her mess and stowed her bag under the seat before getting out, wrapping her green silk shawl around her shoulders.  The sudden sounds of the city caused her to pause a moment before she rushed up the stairs and into the restaurant.  She smiled at the hostess, who immediately took her to a private room upon hearing her name.

As she stepped into the room, Maxwell looked up, relief washing over him at the sight of her.  He had been worried that she wasn’t going to come given how late she was.  A small part of him wondered if Saturday night’s little adventure and promise wasn’t something his muddled brain hadn’t just made up.  Seeing her in person again washed away all those uncharacteristic doubts that had been swirling around for the last hour.

“Maxwell, I am so, so, so sorry I am late.  I’ve kept you waiting and I’m sure you’re hungry.  I should have called you, but I didn’t realize how bad the delay was and then the traffic was bad. . .”  She rambled on in her apology as he stood up to greet her, not even noticing the feral look in his eye.  He took her hand and when he spoke her name, she looked up.

“Evie.”  His tone was even but carried authority and it was often one his own staff heard from him. It easily broke through her worrying thoughts, bringing her back to him.  “It’s fine. Things happen.  What matters is that you’re here.  Give yourself a second to breathe.  We have all night.”  

She heaved a sigh of relief and for the first time since she walked into the room, she smiled at him.  He smiled back and dropped his hand to her lower back to guide her to their table. He signaled the young man waiting at the door and he left to get their waiter.  He pulled out her chair and as she sat down, he caught a whiff of her shampoo – just as soft and warm as he remembered, and he felt his cock stir a little.  

If Maxwell Lord weren’t already captivated by Evie Blaker, then tonight he would have been.  When she walked in, wearing that golden dress, he felt as if the room brightened considerably and it was all he could do to talk to her.  He was mesmerized by her everyday beauty, but she was a radiant sun goddess now.  He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her until she was panting for him, until she begged him to fuck her on the table, dinner be damned.  Instead, he willed himself to calm down and for his erection to stop growing.

“Just a ginger ale and water please, Alonzo.  And I’m sorry, wait.  Maxwell, did you want another drink?”  He straightened up at the sound of his name from her voice and simply nodded.  The waiter bowed his head to fill their drink orders and the two fell into silence as they looked at the menu.  He already knew what he wanted but waited patiently for her to decide.

“How did you know his name was Alonzo?”  He asked.

“I asked him?”  If she weren’t so kind, he would have guessed her questioning look was akin to something like, are you stupid?  He never blushed, but he could feel heat rising in his neck in embarrassment.  He cleared his throat to rid himself of this foreign sensation.

“You asked him.”

“Yes, and the young man over there is Zachary.  And the hostess is named Melanie.”  She smiled at the boy and he shyly smiled back before looking away. She looked back at Maxwell, whose mouth was slightly hanging open.  He looked down at the menu before looking up.  He saw her eyes sparkle with amusement.  She had the courtesy not to giggle out loud at least.

“Oh.”

“You don’t really talk with the people around you, do you?”  He thought about it and really, unless he had something to say to them, no he didn’t.  And when he did, he was prone to speaking at them rather than with them.  Before he could say anything, Alonzo returned with their drinks and to take their order, before whisking away the menus and signaling Zachary to follow him.  The two were left alone.

---***---

His dinner with Evie was one of the most enjoyable nights Maxwell had had in some time.  He found himself more open than he usually is on a date and he was certain her natural friendliness was the reason.  Something about her made him answer her questions truthfully and to share even when not prompted.  Their conversation was non-stop, even after the food came, and they seemed pressed to learn as much about each other as possible – as if both were worried this was a dream that would disappear.

While most people knew that Maxwell’s father committed suicide, he revealed how his mother died a much slower death.  He talked about how that shaped him and his real feelings about Chimtech.  He felt pride in the company’s success under his leadership, but knowing it was also the ultimate cause of his parent’s deaths made him feel a little resentful towards it.

They laughed together over his antics in college or at least the ones he was willing to share. And he shared tales of travel and the time he got lost in Prague that led him to the most beautiful church he had ever seen.  As he shared, he became more and more relaxed.  And Maxwell relaxed was a sight to behold for Evie – she was certain she was witnessing something special.

On her part, Evie loved to tell stories and she reached out to Maxwell when he talked about his father’s death because she too had lost a parent.  She talked about how her mother’s sudden death in an accident caused by a drunk drive lead her to never want to drink.  But she was close her to pharmacist father, who loved and was devoted his only child.  And how he was supportive when she took a risk and went all the way to Notre Dame for college.

She also regaled him with stories from her childhood antics with her cousin and best friend, Maribel.  He never laughed as hard as when Evie described how the two of them destroyed a pier and Maribel’s brother’s boat trying to recreate the Lancelot and Elaine scene from Anne of Green Gables.  They thought they could do it better and she admitted they clearly didn’t.

“Well, to your credit, you did recreate the scene from the book pretty faithfully.”  Maxwell laughed.  She laughed too.

“That is true, although I don’t think Brad has forgiven us over the loss of his boat.”  They sat back in their chairs, with little chuckles permeating the small room.  She sighed as she took a sip of her drink and Maxwell watched her, a small smile on his face.  He was more content and relaxed than he had been in a long time. Her sitting across from him felt so natural and a small part of him thought that he could get used to this.

“Would you like dessert?”  He asked and she nodded.  She wasn’t about to pass up the chance for dessert in a four-star restaurant in New York. After perusing the menu, Maxwell decided on a berry tart and she went for a caramel cake.  They continued their conversation through dessert and as it wound down, Maxwell texted Bennett to bring the car around.

“I’m sorry, Maxwell, can I order a dessert to go?”  She looked at him shyly, not wanting to seem greedy. He smiled with a hint of confusion but nodded as he finished his wine.  After she placed the order, she excused herself to go to the restroom. He sat back and realized they had been sitting for hours but it seemed so much shorter than that. The warmth that haunted his dreams had enveloped him all evening and he was hesitant to let her go just yet.

When she returned, she noticed the box on the table and smiled.  Maxwell smiled back and stood up to meet her. She picked up her things as he held out his hand and she slipped hers into his grasp.  He lightly squeezed as they left the restaurant.  Evie thought that holding his hand seemed to be the most natural thing in the world, as if his hand were made to hold hers perfectly.

Evie bid good-bye to Zachary, Alonzo, and then Melanie as they exited the building before giving Bennett a large smile when they stepped outside.  He returned it and the couple slid into the car, with the door closing behind them.  When he got back in the car, Evie stopped him.

“Here Bennett - this is for you and Bette.”  She handed him the box and he looked stunned.

“For us?”

“Yes, it’s a caramel cake, you said that it was yours and Bette’s favorite dessert, right?”

“Yeah!  You remembered?!”

“Of course!  I had this for dessert, and you will both love it.  It’s divine!”  She patted his hand and he looked so happy that she not only remembered but cared enough to bring him something.  She sat back, putting on her seatbelt.  He set the cake down carefully so he could take it home before turning to Maxwell and asking where their next stop was.

“Give me a minute, Bennett.”  The driver nodded and waited.

“Stay with me tonight.”  His low voice didn’t demand, but it was firm, and he was glad it hid the desperation he was feeling.  He wanted her to come home with him.  But she no more wanted the evening to end than he did, and Evie simply nodded, and a smile bloomed on his lips.  Finally, the sensations that haunted his sleep wouldn’t leave him at dawn’s first light.

“Home, Bennett.”  The driver nodded and he pulled away from the curb to begin the trek across the city. As they sat there, Evie reached over to grab Maxwell’s hand and lace her fingers through his.  He tightened his hand, as if to keep her from floating away from him.

“How did you know about cake?”  He asked suddenly, but quietly and she turned to look at him with a confused look on her face.

“Because we talked earlier on the way in?”  It was a question-comment.

“You talked about cake?”

“Among other things.”  She looked at him closer.  “You didn’t know Bennett was married, did you?”

He slightly shook his head no and she nodded in response.  Bennett had been his driver for six years and until tonight, Maxwell didn’t know anything about the man.  Evie squeezed his hand and looked out to the window to enjoy New York City in the evening.  The two lapsed into their own silences for the remainder of the trip.

---***---

She expected Bennett to pull up to a large apartment building, thinking Maxwell lived in a penthouse.  Instead, he pulled down a tree-lined street with large houses on either side. Bennett stopped in front of a three-story brownstone that exuded charm and warmth.  She could see in the flower beds daisies, asters, and lilies interspersed with small ornamental trees.  She was almost shocked at how homey and welcoming the property looked.  

The car stopped and Evie withdrew her hand to grab her bag from under the seat.  Bennett opened the door and Evie stepped out while Maxwell opened his own door and stretched his long legs as he walked around the back of the car.  Evie was already into another conversation with his driver as he came up to them.

“You say hello to Bette for me and you’ll let me know what she thinks of the cake, won’t you?”

“Absolutely Miss Evie!  You have a good evening with Mr. Lord.”

“Good-bye Bennett!”  She gave him a small wave as Maxwell guided her up the steps.  As they entered the house, again Evie found herself surrounded by a cozy and charming space.  She stopped and looked around her, noting textures like dark wood and soft fabrics.  It was clearly the home of a man and yet it felt homey and well lived in.  

Instead of modern art, she noted classical style paintings and landscape photography hanging on the walls.  She sucked in a breath at the beautiful stain glass that hung in the windows and she thought that the place was probably heavenly when the sun shone through them in the late afternoons.

“Not what you expected, I bet?”  Maxwell watched her as she took in his home.  His tone was playful, and she laughed.

“No.  I expected a penthouse with a harsh modern look that was more like a magazine set than a real home.  This is beautiful, Maxwell.”

“I detest modern furniture.  It’s lifeless and cold.  Give me a leather couch any day.”  She supposed it made sense, he was a fashionable man, but he also came from money. He probably grew up in a similar house, where the traditional trappings of wealth surrounded him.  She decided it suited him much more than anything she had imagined.

Evie didn’t move from her spot in the foyer, not sure what would happen if she stepped further into his home.  For the first time since all this began, she felt apprehensive.  Meeting in an office or restaurant is one thing, that could be considered more neutral meeting grounds.  But here?  She was on his turf and was keenly aware he had an advantage.

It seemed as if Maxwell could sense her hesitation and he stepped up behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders.  He could feel tension there and he wanted to wipe it away, so he bent his head down and kiss her underneath her ear.  She inhaled sharply at the sensation and her fingers gripped the handles of her bag.  When he kissed the spot again, her eyes fluttered shut.  They both knew what was going to happen next and they both wanted it. Saturday may have been the appetizer, but tonight was the dessert.

#maxwell lord #maxwell lord x oc #maxwell lord x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #ww1984 #Wonder Woman 1984 #fanfic

[ikevampfg]

Hi How would the Ikemen Vampire Suitors react to an MC being uninterested in their flirtatious attempts only to finding out that she's lesbian? By the way, thank you for doing this 😍

Napoleon

-He tried catching her heart with his charisma but to no avail and even got his jaw dropped when he walked through MC flirting with a female aristocrat, even making the woman blush. So he approached MC like a 'friend' and jokingly told her that she might be lesbian but had his jaw dropped when MC told him that she was one and even showed her the pictures from her wallet from the 21st century with her previous girlfriends. He stopped after that but did have a mild broken heart and ate all the available crepes in Paris.

Mozart

-He saw how close she was with women when he was playing the piano for a duke in a party. Mozart saw when MC walked out with a pretty woman and he followed them out of his instinct but is shocked when MC pushed the girl to a nearby tree and kissed her. Mozart's soul almost left his body when he saw that and just gave up his feelings for her. Let's say that Mozart created a sad sonata after.

Leonardo

-He had seen lesbians before and is totally getting the vibes from MC. He closely looked at her everytime they were out at the city talking to women with flirtatious tone. Leonardo confirmed it himself after when he followed MC to the city holding hands with one of the pretty store owner. He just didn't tell his feelings and more like supported MC on what to do.

Arthur

-He was on the pub and kind of tipsy while entertaining girls. He decided to take two for a room and led them in a private room in reserved on the pub. They walked by two girls moaning and he was little sneaky, trying to look for himself and his eyes were completely blood shot upon realizing it was MC on top with two another women, pleasuring them. He didn't pry with MC's sexuality so he doesn't have an idea and the next day, MC had knew he was watching and smirked instead, teasing Arthur that she pick up girls better and make them moan louder than he does.

Vincent

-MC told it herself to Vincent about her being a lesbian. Vincent understood her easily and told her to keep going in life despite being different. He even picked up a flower to give for the girl she liked in the city and is willing to paint MC and her future girlfriend together.

Theo

-He was suspecting it himself before but he just needed to see for his own eyes. He noticed she was getting close with the one female artist in Paris and even be willing to pose nude for the woman for her to paint. So he found it a good chance and visited in middle of the painting session only to see MC naked with the woman on the floor with paint dripping on them and Theo just ran.

Isaac

-Like Vincent, MC just told her that she was a lesbian. Isaac didn't mind at all since he wasn't interested in romance to begin with because he liked science and mathematics better. He told her to be careful since 19th century still has a judgmental society and always protect her heart. He was open everytime MC was there to tell her stories.

Jean

-He was on the church when he walked in with MC kissing a nun. He knew in religious basis that it was a forbidden love and didn't pry after. Though he was kind of uncofortable, he's still in the process of accepting her.

Dazai

-He was fascinated when he caught MC in a loving scene with another woman. He told her that he'll keep the secret and tell him hoe things work out so he could use it as an idea. He later wrote a poem about to women loving each other after MC told her some fee stuff.

Shakespeare

-Like Dazai, he was fascinated of the idea but he didn't pry but instead followed MC in her escapades with women. He enjoyed watching them and is labelling it as an forbidden love.

Le Comte

-MC just told it to her and is telling MC to be careful because it may be a thing for large scale gossip around Paris. He wont stop her,as long as she'll be happy and would protect her from prying eyes.

Sebastian

-Understands its concept because he's from the 21st century. Is MC's lending ears everytime she has stories about her girlfriend or tells stuff about her exes.

#ikemen vampire #ikevam #ikevamp #ikemen series #cybird #ikevam napoleon #ikevam arthur #ikevamp isaac #ikevam comte #ikevam leonardo #ikevam theo #ikevam dazai #ikevam jean #ikevam shakespeare #ikevam mozart #ikevam sebastian #ikevam vincent

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 41)

Galerie Laurent

Arthur and reader decide to make the most of the spare time before the bank job. They spend some time with a very interesting Frenchman, and bump into another familiar face too... there’s some mild nsft in this chapter, but nothing major. This chapter is also a little longer than usual. Enjoy!

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

Arthur came up to me while I was hanging up some washing to dry; he looked slightly nervous. Well, not nervous, but he was acting a little strange, not quite his usual self. I wondered if it had something to do with the upcoming bank job, but then he started asking me about my chores, if I had many to do that day. I had a fair amount of clothes left to wash, then there were some dishes from the previous day that no one had cleaned yet; I told him that. A little crestfallen, he'd asked if it could wait. 

"Why? Arthur, what're you up to?" I asked, slightly amused. He chuckled quietly, dodging eye contact and looking elsewhere. 

"I was wondering, I got all day free. We're doing that bank tomorrow, but today…" he began, licked his lips to wet them, "I wanted to ask you out somewhere, thought it would be nice if we did something together while things are still relatively calm."

I paused, a smile blooming on my face. "Well, what did you have in mind?"

"I uh, I know a feller. Met him in the city, real interesting character he is," he explained, going to lean against one of the posts holding up the canvas shelter we were under, though it shifted and he abruptly straightened back up, "anyway, he's an artist. Charles Châtenay. He's got a show on at the gallery, thought maybe you'd like to go with me. Might be our last chance to go to the city for a while." 

"Like a date, at the gallery?" I grinned, my heart rate quickening. 

"Uh, a date. Yeah, I suppose it is," his mouth turned up at the corner and the colour in his cheeks wasn't dissipating. "We ain't done nothing like this, really, have we?"

I shook my head. "I'd love to, though."

"Miss Grimshaw won't mind me taking you away from your chores, will she?" 

I snorted. "I don't care either way, I'll get 'em done at some point. But I ain't passing this up for nobody. What shall I wear? I gotta get changed!"

"Anything, you always look pretty to me," he shrugged. Arthur himself was dressed a little smarter than usual in his vest and good trousers; without stains or tears. He also had a little pomade in his hair, I noticed.

I simpered at his flattery. "I'll put something nice on, give me ten minutes," I held a finger up to him and ran off towards the house.

I put on some of the nicer clothes that I'd acquired over time; a lavender coloured walking suit with a pretty black trim, and a heavily ruffled shirtwaist underneath. I braided my hair, too, made it look as presentable as I could without the help of the girls, then hurried downstairs to meet Arthur by the horses. 

We were discreet as we mounted up – me riding side saddle behind him on Jet – leaving as quietly and quickly as possible as to not alert anyone. We would essentially be slacking off in the eyes of some of the others, and I was not in the mood to get an earful; or worse, to be stopped at the last minute and not be able to go. I figured Arthur and I deserved to have a nice day out, it wasn't like we'd ever done it before. Not often, at least. 

We rode to Saint Denis, and I was a little surprised at Arthur's willingness to go into the city for the sake of a date; I actually found it very flattering and sweet. He was very gentlemanly when we arrived at the gallery, gripping my hand as I slid down off the horse, taking my arm as we walked side by side into the building, holding doors open for me when we got inside. I was a girlish, grinning fool the entire time and I felt so happy to be on his arm. Just going on a date like a normal couple, having people see us together like we were, it felt so good. 

When we got inside the gallery's foyer, we were greeted by a very eccentric Frenchman who I soon learned was Arthur's artist friend. He was a small man, with dark hair and a nicely styled moustache, striking, weaselly features that made me squirm a little when he stepped too close. Seemed friendly enough, though. 

"Arthur! You came, mon ami. And you have company, I see," he exclaimed in his heavy accent, appraising me with a sweep of his eyes. "You did not tell me you had a wife, Arthur. May I say a very lovely one, too."

"Oh, we…" Arthur chuckled, eyeing me up as he decided whether to correct him. He let the sentence dissolve, and my heart skipped. "She is lovely," he agreed instead, then introduced us formally.

"Pleasure to meet you Mr. Châtenay," I gave a sweet nod of my head.

"Oh, the pleasure is all mine, I assure you. Has Arthur shown you the little drawing I gave him? Are you an admirer of my work?" Charles asked me eagerly, stepping forwards, just slightly too close for comfort. I gave him what I hoped was a polite smile that hid my mild unease.

"Oh, he hasn't, actually. I guess he wanted to surprise me with your work, but I'm sure it's lovely," I told him, and he gave a pleased chuckle. 

"Mm, I sincerely hope you like it, ma chérie, perhaps you will like it so much that you will want to model for me, hm?" 

"To model? Oh, wow, you'd want to paint me?" My eyes widened a little, and I heard Arthur give an uneasy laugh beside me. I glanced at him curiously, but Charles took my hand, lifted it, positioning me to get a better look at my form. 

"Of course! I am always on the lookout for beautiful women who would be willing to sit for a little painter like moi, I can certainly see myself getting along well with you. She is a fine subject, Arthur, no?" He said, his moustache curving with his lips, eyes narrowing playfully. 

"She, uh, she sure is," Arthur said, his smile a little forced, eyes not matching his mouth. 

"Imagine that, being on the wall of a gallery for all to see, for all to admire! Such a pure beauty you possess!" Charles continued, squeezing my hand tighter. 

"I couldn't imagine seeing myself in a gallery," I giggled, feeling my face warm up at all of his charm and flattery. 

"Oh, I can picture it. I am picturing it," he said, his eyes rolling down my body. 

"Okay, that's… that's enough now, I think," Arthur said awkwardly through a chuckle, his grip on my arm tightening minutely. I looked at him, confused. Charles was being nothing but complimentary, why was there an issue?

"You do not think she'd look right at home on the wall of a gallery, Mr. Arthur? Pah! What kind of a husband are you?" Charles exclaimed, though he was wearing a mischievous smile the whole time. 

"Of course she would, not in any o' your paintings, though! I've seen the kinda work you do, partner," Arthur retorted, irritation seeping into every word, raising hairs on my arms. My eyes widened. 

"I thought we were friends, hm? And now you insult my work? You must be no better than these uninspired, tasteless, boring idiots who come in droves just to complain," the faster Charles spoke the thicker his accent became, and some of his words merged together but I could still understand him. 

Arthur sighed, held his hands out to him and waved a metaphorical white flag. "I ain't insulting your work, I'm just saying, I don't think the lady knows just what modelling for you would entail. Can we just– let's just go in. Come on, princess."

"Yes, let us go in, princess," Charles tittered, following us in as Arthur guided me by the elbow. I glanced cautiously over my shoulder at him, not missing the way the artist's eyes lingered on my behind. 

We passed through a small room decorated with elegant stone sculptures and photographs on the walls. Mostly wildlife photographs of wolves and alligators and horses, but one portrait. The portrait made me do a double take as we passed it, and I stopped dead in my tracks where it hung on the powder blue wall. 

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed, forgetting where I was and turning a few heads. "Arthur, this guy looks just like you!"

Arthur glanced up at it, his casual expression soon turning stiff and shocked with eyes as big as wagon wheels. His face coloured up very quickly, and his eyes darted to the other photographs in the room, a sliver of recognition appearing. I took a second look at the portrait, at the gentleman's clothes; that jacket and satchel looked far too familiar, and even through the graininess of the image, those eyes were unmistakable. 

"Goodness, that is you," I murmured in shock, peering up at Arthur. He chuckled nervously. 

"Ah, yes! I always thought that man seemed familiar!" Charles added, leaning between us to get a better look at the image.

"Alright, that's uh– okay, the paintings are in the next room," Arthur mumbled, prying me away from the print.

"What the hell? Why are you on the wall?" I queried. 

"It's uh, it's a long story," he chuckled. 

"Perhaps I should turn my viewfinder to you, mon ami. You're clearly no stranger to being the artist's muse. How about I paint you? Or the both of you together? Oh, that's an inspiring thought," Charles suggested and Arthur gave him a look. 

"Watch it," he said, voice low, a hint of a threat there. 

We stepped into the room, then, and it all suddenly made sense. The room was lined with a dozen or so paintings of nude – or mostly nude – models. So that's why Arthur didn't want me posing for him. I peered at Arthur, cocked a brow above my smirk. 

"Wow, I have to admit. This ain't at all what I expected, Arthur," I said quietly. 

"What were you expecting? Boring landscapes? People painted in dull colours and dramatic lighting, frolicking in the countryside or something?" Charles asked as he passed by me, sauntering into the middle of the room with his arms crossed.

"Honestly, kinda," I laughed, looking around at the people attending the exhibition. There were a lot of well-to-do city folk about, each with a turned up nose and a hissy whisper, their mannerisms screamed disapproval and I couldn't help but laugh at the people getting all worked up at a rather artistic rendition of a gentleman's pasty behind. 

"Did I, uh, make a mistake bringing you here?" Arthur asked me under his breath, but I turned the smile I was wearing to him and shook my head firmly. 

"Course not. I can handle a few breasts and backsides, Arthur. This is real different, in a good way!" I told him, strolling into the room, a flash of red, blue and yellow catching my eye immediately. My lips parted and I got up close to the painting of a woman barely concealed by the drapery of her undergarments. The vivid colours in the painting were beautiful and carefully balanced, and the brush strokes were rather blocky and gestural, but communicated her form and the seat she was situated in clearly. I hadn't seen art like it before.

"Ain't this something?" I said to Arthur as he stepped up beside me. He tilted his head at the painting, pursing his lips a little. 

"Sure, it's something. It's a woman with all her stuff hangin' out," he murmured and I scoffed, patting him on the arm. 

"Ain't this at all appealing to you? If not in an artistic sense, then purely based on the fact you're a strapping, hot-blooded man?" I quirked a brow playfully at him. He laughed at my wording. 

"Don't do much for me, I don't know the woman," he shrugged his shoulders, and his response surprised me. What interesting reasoning. 

"What if you did know her?" I asked curiously. 

"Depends who it was," he looked down at me, "if it was you it wouldn't be on the wall of a gallery," he snorted. 

"Where'd it be?"

"Back page of my journal, never leaving my side," he smirked, his tone playful as it fell low for my ears only. 

"Dirty dog," I quipped back, fully in jest, my cheeks aching from smiling and hot from the flush of blood rising there. 

I moved onto the next painting – a man wearing nothing but a hat, laying on his front – leaning in to study it only for a moment before a ruckus caught my attention beside me. Voices were being raised, outrage amongst the visitors, Charles standing in the middle of it all with a comically disinterested expression. People obviously weren't happy about the nudity on display. Especially since the woman in the painting we'd just been admiring apparently happened to be the wife of the guy raising all the commotion. A woman soon stepped between the painting and Arthur and I, spreading her arms to obscure it. 

"Stop lookin' at my husband's buttocks!" She crowed, and we stumbled backwards away from her with wide eyes. 

"Stop lookin' at my momma!" Another guy yelled. Arthur and I shared a glance; he looked as if he was trying not to laugh. 

"Well, maybe she shouldn't've exposed herself like that," the woman quipped back with a sneering, snooty little tone that irritated even me. 

"Says the woman whose husband's ass we've all been staring at," I whispered very quietly to Arthur, being careful that he was the only person who could hear. He cracked up, wheezing loudly and attracting a few looks, but they were all soon distracted. 

One man was throwing a punch at another. Charles was being battered to the ground by a handbag, wielded by another miserable looking woman with a face all puckered and flushed. Chaos was breaking out, and I watched on with wide eyes, backing into the corner out of harm's way. 

I personally couldn't see the harm in a few paintings like the ones on display, it was the human form, we all had some rendition of the same thing hidden under layers of clothing. If art couldn't celebrate our freest form, what could? Perhaps it was the colourful eroticism of some of his paintings that was making them recoil, the rawness of some of the nude figures as they lounged and twisted, showing every crease and curve not usually seen by eyes other than one's lover. I was taken by my own musings, gradually becoming more and more enamoured with Charles' work. I wondered what it'd be like to be drawn in my natural state. Perhaps not by Mr. Châtenay himself, but by someone…

My eyes flashed from a painting of a lady lounging backwards with no sense of shame, over to Arthur, who was helping Charles up to his feet and directing him away from the commotion. A gentleman went after him, only to be held back by a hand on his shoulder; one not appreciated. The gentleman, so outraged by nudity though not above petty violence, raised a fist to Arthur. He caught it, wrestling it away from him as I gasped. 

"Hey, calm yourself, friend," he said in a low and commanding voice woven with a thread of menace. 

"Don't tell me to calm myself while that sick pervert just stands there with that look on his damn face–" he yelled, spit flying, seething in a way I felt was disproportionate to what was actually going on. Charles was indeed standing there in the doorway as fights broke out before me, I edged away to join him, side stepping towards the archway, dumbfounded by the events unfolding as other women filtered out. 

With his wrists gripped tight by Arthur's hands, the man jammed a kick into his thigh. I stepped forwards as Arthur grunted in pain, wanting to do something to help. 

"Son of a– don't make me hit you in front of the lady," Arthur threatened through gritted teeth. 

A glob of spit was fired in his face and he didn't think twice, letting go of his wrists only to swing, laying the man out seemingly effortlessly. That's when the real chaos ensued. 

"Get out of here!" Arthur urged me, and I did as I was told, trotting out of the room as Charles took my elbow in his hand, briskly guiding me away from the messy display. 

"Hit him as much as you like, now the lady isn't watching!" Charles called over his shoulder, tittering to himself. 

"Charles!" I scolded, tugging my arm out of his grip and stopping by the stairs that led down to street level. 

"What? Le branleur deserved it. None of those men stand a chance against him, do they? Big, impressive man your husband is," he said, his eyelids lowering.

"No, you're right about that," I sighed. "What a bunch of lunatics. Imagine getting so worked up over art!"

"Oh, but I think I have finally arrived. That was a memorable opening day, they're sure to be talking about my exhibition for years," he cheered. 

"Yeah, hopefully not 'cause of the body count. I hope he restrains himself," I frowned, looking over my shoulder into the gallery. Arthur appeared a few moments later, shaking his tender hand out. He looked to have fared quite well from the ordeal, sporting a slightly swollen lip and a couple of hairs out of place, and that was it. 

I sighed and took his hand in mine when he reached us, inspecting his red, blood speckled knuckles. 

"Let's get out of here," he said, altering the relation of our hands by entwining our fingers.  

"Yes, I know a place I can lie low!" Charles said, scampering down the stairs. Arthur and I followed close behind him, figuring it was best to accompany him before he got himself into any more trouble. 

"You're welcome, by the way, for dealing with that mess," Arthur grunted as we walked, "you artistic folk ain't too good at dealing with the public, huh?" He snorted. 

"The purpose of art is to provoke emotion, no?" Charles said, throwing a smirk over his shoulder as we left the gallery and crossed the street, heading down an alleyway. "Their emotions were too strong to be contained. It is not my job as the artist to police emotion. Only to bring it. I'd say I did my part tremendously."

"Yeah, you sure did your part," Arthur muttered, rolling his eyes. "I guess my part is stopping you from gettin' lynched."

"And you too, did your part tremendously. Merci, mon ami!" 

"Violent outbursts aside, I have to say I was rather impressed," I said, and Charles turned around with an impish grin on his face once we reached a door. 

"Perhaps you will want to pose for me after all?" He delighted, and I narrowed my eyes a little. 

"Perhaps not. I ain't quite ready to be the subject of people's horror, up on that gallery wall." 

"Shame. The world is not ready. One day they will see my art as something to celebrate, and not to detest. Maybe then I will seek you out, eh ma chérie?" He said, grasping my hand and lifting it to his mouth, getting away with brushing a kiss against my knuckle just before Arthur shoved his shoulder. 

"Get out of here," he grumbled, though his face betrayed his amusement. 

"I am going!" Charles exclaimed, turning and knocking on the door, slipping through as he called out to whoever was inside. 

Arthur shook his head, chuckling to himself as he turned and we started heading back towards the street. 

"That man," he breathed, "I told you he was an interesting character."

"That's putting it mildly," I smirked. 

"He liked you," he noted, sounding inwardly peeved.

"I liked that photograph of you," I steered the subject, falling into step with him once we were back out on the street. "You ever gonna tell me about that?"

Arthur's expression lifted and he shook his head mildly. "Ahh, I met this photographer. Albert Mason. Funny man, seems to always be tryin'a get himself eaten whenever I see him, by some animal or another. He took that photo of me, I thought he just wanted a test shot."

"You didn't know it was there?" I raised my brows. 

"Course not. I probably wouldn't've let him get away with it if I did," he chuckled, "clearly he didn't take me for someone who visits galleries all too often. I don't quite know why he'd display that."

"You wouldn't," I murmured, "but anyone else with a pair of eyes would. It's a lovely photograph."

"Was real embarrassed when I saw it," he admitted, laughing breathily. 

"You shouldn't be. Though… I think I would be if I was in your shoes, so I get it," I laughed. 

"If it was a photograph of you up there, Charles' exhibition would've flopped. Not that it was a roaring success as it was but you get the picture. Everyone'd just be lookin' at you."

"Are you flattering me again?" I smiled mischievously at him. Arthur didn't respond, just wore a satisfied smile and kept on looking ahead. I lowered my lids flirtatiously. "I do wonder, though, what if I wanted to pose nude for an artist?" I said the final word with a playful, french flair. 

"Well that… that would be up to you, I suppose," he murmured, though he frowned, "but I know that man, didn't take me long to suss him out. He's after more than artistic expression." 

I raised my brows. "But he thinks we're married," I smirked a little at that, pointing it out indulgently.

"Trust me, that wouldn't stop him," he snorted. 

"Well then, I guess I'll just have to pose for some other artist," I shrugged, innocently clasping my hands behind my back, bringing a casual sway into my walk as I looked at him through the corner of my eye. 

He stared at me, his brows lowered in confusion, I could practically hear the cogs turning in his head, and I giggled. 

"Are you trying to make me jealous, or somethin'?" He eventually questioned, and I burst with a laugh. 

"No!" I exclaimed, searched our surroundings for listening ears, "I'm trying to flirt with you, you silly man." 

Arthur's eyes widened, a pretty pink hue creeping up his neck and to his cheeks. 

"You're an artist, ain't you?" I added.

"No," he snorted bluntly, and I shook my head at him. "Not like Charles Châtenay, I don't do paintings and whatnot."

"Yeah, but you draw. And you're damn good at it," I told him, taking his hand and turning to him, a flirty smile on my face, "I'd take my clothes off for you so you could practice your figure drawing, for sure."

"Saying those things in public? You're playin' a dangerous game, little lady," he hummed, wearing a big, amused grin on his face, darkened a little with desire. We turned a corner and found ourselves on a deserted street. I let go of his hand and skipped ahead a bit so I could turn around, walking backwards so I faced him. He strolled along after me, eyes appreciating my body.

"Dangerous, how?" I lilted, shimmying my skirt up to flash just a little bit of ankle. Arthur flushed darker, scrubbing at his face a little as he shook his head at my silliness. I dropped my skirt back into place and turned back around, staying ahead of him. 

I gasped in surprise when I suddenly felt his hands at my hips, and I was being pulled down the little alleyway between the nearest two buildings. 

"See, this is why I don't like cities," he began under his breath, his voice so deep and smooth and sweet like molasses. I stared at him with wide eyes, backed up against the wall. "If we were out in the wilderness, I could take you up on that, no problem."

His hand went to my chin, tilting my head up, from side to side a little so his eyes could study my entire face. He licked his lips and I closed my eyes, anticipating the warm press of his mouth; craving it. The air felt unnaturally cool when the contact never came, and eventually I opened my eyes to see his smirk. There was a ghost of arrogance there; it cropped up every now and then, always surprised me, though I liked to see it. He could do with the confidence, he was otherwise so unsure of himself. 

"Holding off on me?" I questioned, pouting. 

"If I kiss you, as tempting as that is, I fear I'll get carried away," he said, stroking my bottom lip with his thumb. 

"What if I ask nicely?"

"Ask as nicely as you want, pretty angel, but I ain't promising nothing," his tone was playful. 

"All I want is one kiss, Arthur, this is a date, after all," I dared, dipping my mouth to kiss the tip of his thumb. He made an involuntary sound.

"One kiss'll turn into two… three… God knows what else, the way you've got me feeling. Especially after seeing that Frenchman's eyes on you, got me feeling like I need to make the most of having you before someone comes along and takes you away from me."

"By all means make the most of it," I nodded eagerly and he gave a dirty chuckle. "But no one's taking me away, I'm yours."

"You're making this real hard for me," he breathed, eyes closing momentarily. He smirked at a private joke and I tilted my head.

"That's the idea. I'm trying to get my kiss," I teased, stroking my hands up and down his broad chest. His eyes dropped down to my hands briefly. 

"You could just take it for yourself, you know."

"You wouldn't try and stop me?"

"Find out," he dared. 

Of course, I didn't hesitate. I pressed my lips to his, hard, with embarrassingly little skill or restraint, immediately reining it in a little when he grunted in surprise (maybe even pain, with his swollen lip). My fingers crept up his body, into his hair, quickly letting go when I remembered he'd made the effort to pomade it. The kiss was a mess until Arthur responded, tilting his head and moving his lips with mine, helping me out. My experience – or lack thereof – certainly showed when he handed me the reins. Even so, it was easy to lose myself in the kiss. 

When he pulled away, I found myself voicing my desire without thinking. "God, I want you," I breathed, and my voice shook unexpectedly. 

"Perhaps we should get ourselves a room at the hotel, and I can give you what you want," he murmured, pressing his body firm against mine. I was turned on, feeling hot and pleasant between my legs, resisting the urge to rub against him like an animal. 

"Oh, pretty please," I nodded. 

"You're gonna kill me," he whispered, pressing his forehead against mine. "Or get me arrested, gettin' me hard in public so easy."

"Oh my," I sighed, arching forwards, feeling the proof of his words against my belly. "Your fault. You took me down this alleyway."

"Shit, I did, didn't I?" He mused. 

"Let's go to that hotel, have a little lie down together, hmm?" I said sweetly, and Arthur groaned quietly. His hips rolled forwards, grinding his erection against my belly once before he pushed away from me, a frustrated growl bubbling up his throat. I stayed pressed up against the wall, watching as his hand went between his legs, readjusting himself so the bulge there wasn't as obvious. 

"You're a menace. How can I walk the streets like this?" He questioned, though he seemed more amused than anything. 

"You want me to describe what I found in Uncle's union suit last time I washed it?" I asked, giving him a mischievous grin. He winced. 

"Christ no, the thought alone will be enough."

-

We headed to the hotel once Arthur was able to be seen in public, eager to check in and get behind closed doors. There was nobody at the front desk when we arrived, so we dinged the little bell and waited, standing side by side a good foot apart to avoid temptation. I was a bad influence, of course, because my hand found its way to his, delicately entwining our fingers. Arthur peered at me, brows soft, suddenly looking warm and sentimental at my touch.

Movement caught my eye over his shoulder, someone appearing in the doorway that led to the rooms. For a second I thought she was the clerk, but my brain sparked with recognition when I looked at her face. Arthur turned his head, following my gaze, and I heard his sharp inhale. 

"Arthur? You came!" Mary exclaimed, clearly shocked to see him. 

Of course. I immediately recalled her letter, the one Arthur had tossed into the fire; she was staying at this hotel. It hadn't occurred to me before, but I was faced with the realisation that Arthur had taken my virginity while she was probably in the same building, we just hadn't known at the time. My face immediately heated up.

"Oh, uh, hi Mary," Arthur said after a pause that was unnaturally long, "Hotel Grand, this is where you're staying."

"Yes, my letter said so," Mary said, her tone a little confused. I averted my eyes, tried to let go of Arthur's hand, he gripped onto me though, didn't let me separate our hands. The small act made my heart want to dance out of my rib cage. 

There was another awkward pause, and Mary looked at me. It took a moment, but she seemed to recognise me from the day I'd gone with Arthur to see her all those weeks ago. Her lips parted, she didn't know what to say for a moment, but she gathered herself quickly and reassembled her composed expression. 

"Oh, perhaps you didn't receive my letter. This must be a coincidence," she said, her laugh quite hollow. "What a small world we live in. I'm Mary, you must be the girl Arthur was with before. You were new to his… group, as I understand."

"Yes, I remember you," I nodded, smiling at her despite the fact that my heart was racing and I felt so nervous my hands were immediately clammy, "it's nice to meet you."

"You too," she nodded, returning my smile. Her eyes casually dropped to where Arthur and I's hands were connected, then she looked away awkwardly. "Well, I won't keep you. I was hoping I could ask a favour of you, Arthur, but I suppose this is a bad time."

"I, uh, I'm sorry, Mary. This is… no, I can't really– we are–" Arthur stammered, looking between the two of us. He was the human embodiment of a fish out of water, just struggling and panicking and suffocating right in front of us. I felt awful for him. I squeezed his hand. 

"We've moved around some since the last time Arthur saw you, your letter must've gotten lost along the way somewhere. We had no idea you were here, I'm sorry for this awkward confusion," I stepped forward, chuckling and trying to lighten the atmosphere. 

"Oh, no, it was my mistake. I just assumed…" Mary shook her head, clasping her hands in front of her, fiddling with them. 

I shook my head dismissively and introduced myself properly with my name, letting go of Arthur's hand only to offer mine to Mary. She looked at it for a moment, then delicately shook it. 

"We're only in the city for a little while, just saw a show at the gallery. Real interesting painter, Charles Châtenay," I conversed, holding Arthur's hand again right away.

"Oh, I know Arthur has a creative streak, with that journal he keeps," she noted, nodding. "I always thought he could make something of himself if he poured more time into his artwork."

I looked at Arthur for his response to that, but he just stood there, mouth slightly open, and shrugged his shoulders. 

"Um, anyway, I should let you get on. Arthur, if I could ask you for one more favour… if you get the time, may I speak with you? It's about Daddy," she said, her brows arching sadly. Arthur released a breath a little harder than natural and shook his head.

"Mary, you know what I told you last time–" he began, but she spoke over him. 

"I know, but his drinking and his gambling has–" she stopped, shaking her head. I frowned, a sudden drop of sympathy manifesting for her. "Oh, Arthur. I know he was never kind to you."

"No, he wasn't. I'm sorry Mary, but I can't help you. I'm sure somebody else will, but I'm–" Arthur glanced at me, then sighed. "I'm moving on. Me and this lady here, we're trying to spend some time together. I'm… I'm real fond of her, and it'd be mighty improper of me to leave her to run an errand for someone else."

"No, you're right. I understand," Mary said, nodding her head. Her expression was difficult to read, her lips were pressed together in a tight line.

"I think it's best for the both of us if… if we let things lie."

"Of course," she nodded, not looking either of us in the eye. 

"Mary, I'm sorry," Arthur said softly, he sounded guilty, his expression was pained. I kept quiet and fiddled with the buttons on my jacket. 

"No, it's okay. You have your own problems to worry about, I understand that. I should've asked someone else," she sighed. "I don't know if this will mean much coming from me, but I'm happy for you."

"Oh, thank you, Mary," Arthur said, a little stunned. Mary looked at me for a moment before meeting Arthur's eyes again. 

"I'm glad you've found someone. I just hope she can give you what I couldn't. And I hope you do right by her, you're not–" she paused, looking down as she searched for the words. "You're not an easy man to love, Arthur." 

I recoiled a little at that. I figured she didn't mean that as harshly as it sounded, at least I hoped she didn't; I gave her the benefit of the doubt. Regardless, I begged to differ.

"Goodbye Arthur, Miss," she nodded to us both, then hurried away, out of the hotel before either of us could say anything else. 

We were left alone in silence for a while, the clerk nowhere to be found. Eventually, Arthur ran a hand over his face, released a heavy sigh.

"I'm sorry, princess. I completely forgot that she was staying here. I wouldn't've come here if it had occurred to me," he said quietly, his voice almost devoid of emotion. 

"It's alright. I forgot too, and I suppose I'm glad to have met her, in a way," I shrugged, hugging his arm and pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I'm– I'm fine. I just didn't expect to see her here, it sort of– God, I'm a fool. You had to do most of the talking, when it was my thing to deal with. I'm sorry I put that on you," he murmured, turning and leading me to sit down on the loveseat nearby. 

"You were shocked, understandably. And it was real awkward there for a while," I gave a small chuckle, then shook my head, "don't worry. I think you handled it okay."

"You don't mind that I told her about us?"

"Of course not."

"Do I… do I do right by you? Are you happy with your lot, the lot I give you?" He asked me out of nowhere and I stared him in the eye, completely taken aback. 

"Arthur, you've told me you'll leave the gang to run away with me after this job. You took me into the city that you hate just to take me to an exhibition you thought I'd like. You… you held onto my hand in front of Mary just now, which sounds silly but that made me feel so, so happy. Don't doubt yourself over me, things are crazy right now but I would never wanna go back to how things were before I knew you," I told him quietly, gripping his hand tightly and leaning close to him. 

"I just know what you deserve, and I'm worried I can't give it to you," he murmured, a frown etched seemingly permanently between his brows. 

"Oh, be quiet with that, Arthur," I sighed, holding his cheek and turning his head to look at me. "I hate it when you talk like that. You don't know how happy you make me." 

”I'm sorry. I guess Mary just summed it up, there, the thing I'm always thinking about."

"What's that?"

"That I ain't an easy man to…" he trailed off with a sigh, shaking his head. "I understand why."

"Arthur, I ain't struggling," I said, smiling sweetly. "Let's enjoy our day, hm?"

"Angel, you say the right thing every time you open your mouth, what I wouldn't give to have that skill," he gave a breathy laugh, shaking his head. 

"You're looking at me through rose-coloured glasses if that's what you think, just the other day I was telling everyone how much I loved your fingers, remember that?" I rolled my eyes. 

"Of course," he smirked. "That was real cute."

"Cute? Good lord," I breathed, flushing and averting my eyes. Arthur grinned.

"Where the hell is the clerk? I wanna take you upstairs," he said abruptly, rising to his feet to ding the bell a few more times. 

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