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precious-little-scoundrel · 3 months

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Dear John || Pt.1

Masters of the Air Fanfiction

Requested: ☑️ My sweet Bri begged for a love-letter-centric Egan fic and with her wonderfully infectious ideas this was produced, the first part of many.

Summary: Major John Egan wasn’t the pen-pal sort but a couple of hours into a dark night full of writing condolence letters, he finds himself wondering why he never tried his hand at the nicer forms of correspondence. Who better to reanimate his numb inspiration than the glamorous Miss Lana Tierney? -the army’s girl next door, the pinup so prolific she was practically a wall paper print and Bucky’s long-standing cinematic crush. It’s not like she’ll read it anyways, tucked up in luxury in Beverly Hills with carts of tedious fanmail burned in her back yard each day, his letter will get lost in the mix. It’s harmless. That thought -and the booze- may loosen his pen a little too much but it’s alright, it’s not like she’ll read it. Right? Right.

It was specified in the request to use or create some of those old WWII dirty acronyms, so in here you have Bucky making up his own for his starlet crush (acorn). I’m ripping off a few ladies here, Lana Turner, Betty Grable, Hedy Lamarr to name a few -the moodbaord is for general aesthetics, I try to keep my fem!readers and oc’s as ambiguous physically as possible. (Besides the fact Johnny Egan finds you mouthwatering, which -be honest with yourself here sweet thing!!- he would.

Rating: 18+ this is the letter writing, vintage form of sexting. i kid you not, this man swings wildly from sweet as pie to downright filthy and vintage slang for anatomical parts is used freely. This would make a better shameful diary entry than a letter but he’s a rogue and he’s in a war, cut him some slack.

Fun game: how many times can Major Egan manage to mention Buck in a horny fan letter to his crush?

Dear A.C.O.R.N.

It is highly unlikely that you remember me, but, all the same, we have met. Now, hear me out, I’m sure fellas say that to you all the time but my point still stands and to match them I’ll do you one better, seeing as how I am not buttering you up for something in return -I have met you, yes, but I have also sung to you.

There. Said it.

Not that you’d recall that either, but then again maybe you would, but either way it doesn’t matter as the entire reason I am writing to you is because it is entirely unlikely you will ever open this god-awful endeavor made of pen and ink.

I am quite drunk, you see.

A necessary medicine. And they do make good whiskey here, one of the few joys they haven’t rationed yet. It’s got me wondering what’s your poison of choice. Something fruity? Or are you an olive sucker? Like that salt on the rim? Or maybe you go for somethin’ silky and warm goin’ down your throat? Which-ever it is, I bet you’d be a surprise, sweet ACORN, I just know it. You were a surprise at the canteen. Back in Jersey? Before shipping out? I know you were on a whole tour and kisses were goin’ for dollars but still, you were a surprise.

A lovely one, really. And that’s the point of this letter. To tell you that you're lovely and while I’m not the pen-pal sort, I’ve written home 80 letters tonight to families whose boys I was supposed to bring home. It got me thinking: Bucky, why the hell don’t you write nice letters? Whyd you only write ‘em now that you gotta? And it occurred to me then that the one silver lining in this whole Air Exec job is the desk, the lamp and the office.

I could write anybody from here. I could write you.

And you wouldn't read it so I could write anything. And it could be a nice letter. ‘Cause I don’t know anybody of yours to tell you anythin’ sad about them and you don’t know me except that I’m alive and drunk. Which is better than those poor eighty two bastards. Which reminds me, I’ve still got two more but maybe Buck will take those, he took seventeen off to his bunk to write from there. Buck doesn't have a desk because he’s not as important as me and he has all the luck.

You’ve met Buck, too, Acorn. He was the appalled pretty one with the straw colored hair pulling me off you after we had our duet. He objects to your nickname, see, even though you didn’t seem to mind. You were lovely, A.C.O.R.N. And I’d not wanna ruin this letter by telling you what it means, not now that I’m actually writing to you and determined to be nice but Buck knows and while he agrees with me as much as any man in the nation that you’ve got the most robust rack on the silver screen -he has objections, you see. So it wasn’t the song or the canoodling he didn’t like, and I still say, he broke up a little love affair that night. Bastard. So I’m writing to you now because as the acronym suggests, I’ve got a goal in my mind in regards to you. I tell myself -Bucky, there’s reasons to make it back.

Reasons, Bucky, reasons. Like Acorn and her halo of gorgeous hair that smelled like coconuts and the way she thought my new lyrics were pretty clever. That’s what you said, acorn, you said they were pretty clever. Now I may have been a little drunk then, too, but I think you might’ve been tipsy, that coke smelled too strong to be straight. I still have the straw you gave me, it’s bent to hell but I’ve taken it up each mission. I’m not counting on it for luck so much as a reminder of the aforementioned reasons. To come back. Your lipstick has mostly worn off but I figure it’s still the same.

You had your precious lips around it. That’s what matters.

And that’s the sorta sentence that makes Buck think I shouldn’t write letters.

But what he can’t accuse me of is being dishonest or vague. I’m being straight with you. You deserve that much, you were lovely and very straight shootin’ yourself, dear little girl. I could pinch your cheeks right now, you’re so sweet. And don’t think me a coward for sayin’ all this under assumption that you won’t read it. I hope you don’t since it’s not worth your time and if you do I wish I’d written less about me and more about you but I need you to know if we were face to face I’d say the same:

You were lovely, you ARE lovely!!!! and I think all your work for us boys is swell and you’ve got the bestest set of knockers any of us have ever seen and I’m stayin’ alive in hopes to see ‘em again some day and while the girls here are swell and sweet they aren’t zippy like you. At least not the ones who’ve put out so far. And if I had you face to face, I’d find a way to make you laugh again and I’d tell you to your face you’re lovely and if I’d been David Nivin in Love Trap with you, I’d have stayed in that little kitchen with you and ate all your burnt flapjacks and watched you in your apron and made babies with you till we were old.

Anyway. It needed saying. And maybe I’ll say it to your face given the chance again. I was working my way up to a proposition for burgers and milkshakes when Buck ruined it. But maybe you’ll tour? Here!! Over here. In England or maybe in Europe once we kick the Nazis bastards out.

Now that’s motivation. That’s a reason! -clear out a nice little swath of land through fortress europe so Miss Lana Tierney can sing in the city of lights surrounded by nothin’ but wine and good food and a buncha boys who love and appreciate her.

Because we do, ma’am. We do.

And make no mistake, I do this to keep the country safe and try to bring as many boys home as I can but every second I also think - it’s where you are too, and so I must continue keeping it safe.

If you, by some godawful chance, do read this letter, please don’t feel pressed to respond or pull out a restraining order. Think of it this way, it’d just be one more “Dear John” letter and the system is clogged as it is. You just deserve a nice letter and my wrist is past sore, one more doesn't matter. And being unable to deliver nice, I’ve written this.

~ I am ever your respectful (and hammered) admirer, Maj. John Egan

P.S. if you do happen to read this I’m sorry. Buck told me not to do this but I just had to Acorn. You’re just too swell and I really have got to get myself to a theater before long, I miss your Angel face.

Masterlist

Thank you for reading! This was entirely out of my usual comfort zone but I’ve had fun writing it and I’m trying to tune my ear to pick up his voice, that’s been stretching. This series will have many letters in it but there will also be fic, so fear not. I’ve got some plans already figured out for this series but I do love a suggestion or ten so have at the inbox with what you’d like to see play out.

Hope you enjoyed, if you’d like to be tagged in future MOTA fics, drop a note below.

#masters of the air #callum turner #john egan #Major John Egan #Bucky Egan x reader #callum turner x reader #masters of the air fanfiction #mota fanfic #hbo war fanfic #Bucky Egan #mine #archive

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pinup-pigeon · 2 months

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A couple of smooth bois ✨

This is the hair removed variation of the Valentine’s Day Steve and Bucky pinups

My kofi ☕️

My commission info ✍️

My redbubble shop 🛍️

You can find the body hair versions here and here

#pinuppigeon #my art #male pinup #mcu fanart #bucky barnes #pinup #bucky #steve rogers #bucky pinup #steve rogers art #steve rogers fanart #pre serum steve #mcu bucky barnes #bucky fanart

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alwaysf0rev3r · 2 years

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Okay what about a Bucky x reader where buckys had a long day and the reader can tell so she dresses up like a 40’s pinup girl for him?

pairings: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: m in f penetration, handjob, fingering, creampie, eating cum, unprotected sex, slight degredation, praise

a/n: GIRL WHEN I SAW THIS IN MY ASKSSSS YOU KNOW I HAD TO DO IT!! this idea is so hot god i love it!! thank u so much for requesting

Bad day at work. I’m gonna be home late. I need a drink. A lot of them. Go to sleep without me, I’ll be home later, I just need to be alone. I love you.

You looked at the text on your phone then up to yourself over and over again in nervousness. You wanted to leave him alone, it was what you always did on his bad days when he came home upset. But giving him space never did anything, it only enabled him being upset for days on end, and it was hard for you to watch him struggle.

Today you tried something different. You wanted to make it about him. Everything was about you, what he cooked, what he did, even the bedroom, but not tonight.

You couldn’t help but remember him mentioning what magazines and girls the soldiers looked at back in the war, he even showed you an old magazine Steve had found. He was joking, only trying to show you memories, but the image was burnt in your mind. Solider Buck, hand in pants, starting at the girls he didn’t know in magazines.

Which is why you had on a semi long red dress with white polka dots. It was skin tight on your upper half, accentuating the size of your waist, and and it flowed waist down. It matched well with your red lipstick and soft makeup, along with your lightly curled hair.

You look like a girl in an old magazine.

When the door opened, you knew that was it, there was no turning back. You stayed still, trying not to let your overthinking get the best of you. You stayed seated on the counter, eating chocolate you had from a week back that Bucky brought for you.

His eyes were on the floor, but he tilted his head up at the realization of your presence, his eyes widening. He wanted to feel confused, but he was too amazed to feel it. You looked perfect, sprawled out on the kitchen island in a little 50s dress for him, “What are you wearing?”

“I found this in my closet,” you lied, knowing damn well you bought it days prior to surprise him. You dangled your legs over the edge of the counter, watching Bucky get closer, “Do you like it?”

“Yes,” he answered embarrassingly quickly, “You look beautiful.”

“I wanted to look pretty for you,” you smiled, grabbing chocolate from the tray and grabbing his arm to pull him closer. You grabbed his face with one hand and used your other to gently put the chocolate to his mouth. He opened his mouth slightly and grabbed the chocolate from your hand, watching you suck the residue off your fingers, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he smiled, not sure how to react. He was so used to silence and solitude when he had a hard day at work or on a mission, but this was a different feeling for him.

“How was work?”

“Bad,” he scoffed, brushing the hair from your face, “No body got hurt or anything, it was just a mistake I made. I kept insisting on something and it turned out I was wrong and we all just argued. It was annoying.”

“I’m sorry, Buck,” you frowned, leaning in to press a kiss to his frowned lips, “Maybe I could make you feel better.”

His eyebrows furrowed but quickly raised in realization when you grabbed the belt loops on his pants to tug him closer, “I just want to take care of my favorite soldier.”

He looked speechless, mouth slightly agape in hesitance. He wanted to, God, in your outfit he wanted nothing more than that, but he was so used to the bedroom always being about you. He loved it that way, he loved making every move about making you shake beneath him, it was all he wanted to know. But your offer was tempting, “Let me take care of you.”

He nodded softly, his eyes glistening as you went in to press a kiss to the end of his jaw, then prickle more to his neck. You sucked on his neck softly as you gripped the bottom of his shirt, which he was quick to remove. He grabbed your waist and kept you planted on the counter as he closed his eyes, enjoying your assault on his neck.

You jumped off the counter, standing in front of him and having him slightly press you into the counter. You kissed lower onto his chest, then took it upon yourself to kiss all the way down to his happy trail. When you reached it, you pressed your tongue flat against his abs and licked up, all the way to his neck and kissing his lips. He was quick to stick his tongue in your throat, which you accepted for only a moment before getting onto your knees.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Bucky mumbled, hoping you’d continue. He took your light scoff and continuations as a yes.

You unbuttoned his pants and grabbed them, pulling them slowly down his legs. You were quicker to grab his boxers and pull them down, revealing what you wanted. All ten inches of him stood straight up, tapping his stomach as your gingers grazed the base.

He grabbed the counters as you began stroking him underneath the table and gave him soft kisses, “What’s got you so hard, Buck?”

“You,” he responded fast, his breath uneven, “Your dress, fuck— You look so beautiful. If I saw you back in the 50s, I would’ve thought you were the most perfect girl I’d ever seen, just like now.”

You stood up and continued jerking him off, turning so you were in front of him. You wanted to see his face. You kissed his neck as you jerked faster, “Where would you have taken me on a date back then?”

“The movies, for sure,” he threw his head back as you collected spit on your palm and jerked him off stronger than before, “We would have kissed in the back— Fuck, that feels good— Taken you to get food after.”

“What would happen after the date?”

He realized what you were getting at as he closed his eyes, just imagining it, “Usually I’d wait to go back to my house, but I wouldn’t be able to wait with you— Oh, god, oh, jesus— I-I’d put you in the back of my car and shove my face in you, ruin you until you could never fuck another man again.”

He took a deep breath and let out a drawn out moan, his eyebrows furrowing in pleasure as you sped up, “I’d put you on top of me, let you ride me until you got what you wanted out of it. I’d fuck you so good.”

You felt yourself getting wetter at his words, and it was driving Bucky’s super senses insane, “I can smell you, fuck.”

He grabbed your waist and seperated you from him. He wanted to be delicate, but how could he when you looked so perfect? He found the buttons and accidentally broke a few, but undid them as fast as he could. He took no time to take the dress off of you, his breath stopping at the black lacy bra that had underwear to match. He put his hand out to trace the lace along the underwear, his hand stopping at your crotch. He cupped it slightly before you backed away, “This is about you, stop.”

“Don’t starve a man,” he whined, his eyes furrowing in desperation. He picked you up and sat you on the counter, spreading your legs as he watched you shake your head at his request, “Baby, do you want me to go crazy? I can’t cum until I eat you, be nice. I just want a little, just for a minute, okay? Then you can do whatever you want to me.”

“You’re like a starved dog, jesus,” you mocked, scoffing at him and letting him spread your legs. He always got what he wanted, and as good as it felt, you wanted to focus on him.

“You asked what I would have done to you in the forties?” He asked, sticking his hand into your underwear and rubbing you slowly, moving your wetness around to lube everything up, “I would have left that little dress on, and made you sit on my face. I’d want your smell on me for days so anytime I did anything, I’d think about what it felt like for you to hump my face.”

You breathed slowly at his confession, grinding onto his hand. He inserted two fingers, watching your mouth open as he did so. He stopped his fingers to let you adjust before moving them again, “You can’t even take my fingers— How am I gonna fit?”

His mocking tone was sending you over the edge, making your eyes close as he fingered you more rapidly, “What? Does that get you off? Me having to stuff you so full cause I barely fit?”

You moaned at his words, nodding rapidly as he fingered you at a quicker pace, “Look at you— Spread out for me with your slutty lace underwear— You look so fucking hot.”

He always made things about you when you did things, but he knew tonight you wanted him to get pleasure out of it all. He did something he was hesitant to do, but God did it feel good.

He rubbed himself slowly against your thigh as he fingered you, grinding on you like a dog in heat. You looked down, letting out the most unbelievable moan at the sight, making his eyes widen, “When you moan like that, I swear I could cum just humping you like a teenager.”

You arched your back and grabbed his arm, shaking your head, “Bucky, just fuck me, please.”

He removed his hand from your underwear and stuck his fingers in his mouth, moaning around them as he closed his eyes, licking up every drop he could, “You taste so good, look.”

He brought his fingers to your mouth and watched you take them in, tasting yourself. You hallowed your cheeks around him as he spoke, “You look like such a whore like this— Tasting yourself on my fingers. You’re meant to be fucked when you taste that good.”

He grabbed your underwear and turned it to the side, keeping on the sexy lace as he ran his dick over your wetness, making your body shiver. He stuck his head inside of you, then was slow to stick the rest of him in as well. When he was fully buried, he waited til you looked adjust to flip the both of you over, so you straddled his waist, “Ride me.”

You lifted yourself up before planting yourself back down, “Bucky— You’re so deep, fuck.”

You kept bouncing up and down, the sight of your tits jumping with you sending Bucky into overdrive, “I want you to cum inside me, Bucky, please.”

His eyes clenched shut at your words as he nodded, nearly busting at the words you just said, “I’ll fuck all my cum into you, baby, I promise.”

“Take what you want, milk me, God,” he moaned as you grinded on him, spelling your name with your hips. You grabbed your own chest, grabbing your nipples through your bra, “You’re so worked up, look at you— Greedy and fucked out— I could just fuck you whenever I wanted cause you’re always so wet for me.”

You nodded, bouncing faster and leaning down a bit to look at him, “You should— Fuck me whenever you want. When I’m cooking, showering, reading, just come and fuck me. I’ll take whatever you give me.”

“You sound like such a slut when you say that,” his eyebrows knit together, his hand coming to yo ur face. You grabbed his thumb and stuck it in your mouth, “You’re so unreal.”

Your body winced as you continued riding him, “I’m cumming, oh god, oh my fucking god—“

“Cum for me,” he mumbled, knowing he was on edge too. You moaned before you collapsed on him, but right when you did, you felt something in you happen.

He let go and you felt ropes of cum endlessly paint your insides. It was never ending, the serum had made him cum for minutes on end. You were getting so full of cum, “Bucky, you’re filling me up so much, it’s leaking.”

“Take it,” he moaned, feeling the last few drops leak out of you as he pulled out.

He flipped you on your back, his eyes now on your lower half. He nearly came again at the sight of your wet pussy leaking his cum, it was dripping out so much.

He put his finger inside of you, shoving all the cum left into you harder. You shivered at the sudden overstimulation he was causing since you just came, “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you don’t waste any,” he smirked, taking his finger out and grabbing all the cum that had dripped out and bringing it to your mouth. You took it all, drinking his cum off his fingers as you grabbed his hand, looking at him.

“I want you to cum again— But in my mouth this time.”

#bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x reader #avengers #smut #marvel #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #bucky barnes #bucky x reader

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skiesofrosie · 11 days

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an ode to your scars

pairing: john brady x f!reader

genre: fluff, angst, comfort

a/n: i wrote this, based on the nurse that gets injured in ch. 2 of little sunshine fires - the reason why marnie has to skip out on a date with benny. so, i may eventually turn this into an oc fic, but for now, enjoy.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

Beauty is sacrificed when war disrupts the earth.

The loss of naivety, the rubbles of collapsed buildings, skies littered with fire and falling corpses, the distance between love. You wonder, just why the gods have bestowed such a fate on humanity. Left them to seek liberation, only possible through complete destruction. Nothing remains the same, and to be truly happy, is as scarce as proper food on the military bases.

As a nurse with the 100th, you were no stranger to wretched scars. In fact, before the war, each mark on your skin were windows to a fond memory. The one on your knee: when you chased your best friend up a tree, and promptly fell out of it. The scab on your ring finger: when you stole one of your sister’s precious jewels, a fake gold ring that was far too small on you (“suck it,” she seethed. “what goes around comes around, idiot.”). The birthmark on the nape of your neck: a match to your mother’s, your only reminder, since she died years and years ago.

You loved the thrill, and the fall, and the mark it leaves you. Each scar writes the story of your life, and you were proud to be you, even in your failure. So when you began a life as a nurse, that was how you perceived the world. That even if you fall, you will move on, and in its wake comes a new layer of thick skin.

Except, what’s happening is the exact opposite.

The war has been far too cruel, for such optimism to remain. Today, you hastily escape the hospital walls in search of comfort in your bed. It was not like you to break, for something so small. But, a wounded pilot had broken into hysterics, leaving a nasty gash on your forearm with the scissors he snatched from you. It was a rookie mistake, to stall on sight, let a show of weakness come through. But you’ve just never seen him like that before–delirious, red eyes, veins popping, and body shaking.

It was a reminder of what the world has become. You were prepared to receive a brunt of new scabs, hardly afraid of getting your skin dirty, but you failed to suspect the weight it would leave on your soul. Blood that floods into your nightmares, names across your chest of the soldiers you couldn’t save, and this constant questioning of why. Why was death capturing each fighting human as if they were worthless?

When you looked into the mirror before leaving the hospital, all you saw was a shell of your old self. Fresh scars were no longer marks of growth, but memories you were desperate to forget, but knew you never would.

“You are not any less beautiful,” Brady reminds you.

You were sobbing when he found you, stumbling to the women’s barracks, trembling hands failing to properly twist the door knob. You tried to usher him away, saying that he would get in trouble if he’s caught inside there with you, but rules be damned, when his lover is in despair.

The way he courted you was fairly simple–you caught his eye in the officer’s club, pink floral dress and pinup hair. Yes, you were beautiful, but even more so when you took the microphone, and sang some Ella Fitzgerald (not with one Bucky Egan, thank the lord). Your voice was midtone, not too high or too low, and it felt like honey. A silkiness in which his heart felt soothed, and sang along to. He needed to know then, if it would continue to beat as rapidly if you shared a simple conversation. And, it certainly did.

“It’s okay if you’re not okay,” he whispers, and you flinch ever so slightly, when he kisses the birthmark on your neck. “You can lean on me,” a kiss to the scar on your finger. He decided to run you a bath, and though the water was hardly warm, his presence against your back was more than enough. Your tears dripped into the pool that submerged you, and you liked that one couldn't tell from your sorrow to the water.

By now, John Brady has the traces of your skin memorized, much like you with him. You have spent many days and nights both staring at each other like paintings hung in the Louvre. And you have learned each pattern with the little chances you get to twirl through the sheets together. He was all consuming, the portrait of love, which you now have etched into your mind. You often questioned if it existed, but his being reminded you that it did.

He loves the way you see beauty in your imperfections, so to witness your resilience falter sends a stab through his lungs. But that’s okay, because it’s impossible to feel strong all the time. On the days you find it hard to breathe, it will be his responsibility to remind you that this life is worth living. That it will eventually be worth it.

“Brady,” you breathe, “I need you.”

“I’m here,” he hugs you tight from behind. “I’m always here.”

#masters of the air #mota #john brady #john brady x reader #masters of the air x reader

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karadin · 3 months

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VALENTINES THEMED PINUPS

by Karadin at TeePublic

45 designs of delightful male pinups, some inspired by your fandom faves, Japanese entertainment and Chinese dramas along with tees you'll find pillows, stickers, mugs, tapestries and more!

February 5th - 11th 30% off Apparel

#tee shirts #valentines day #pinup art #male pinup art #karadin art #steve rogers #bucky barnes #the untamed #chinese dramas #gackt #marvel #fandom art

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mthofferings · 7 months

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Marvel Art Party

See Marvel Art Party’s existing works here.

Preferred contact methods: Email: [email protected] Discord: Rufferto Tumblr: marvelartparty

Preferred organizations: - Anything from the list of approved organizations

Will create works that contain: Marvel heroes, especially from the MCU. If you are interested in a “villain” or comic-based character, just message us to double check that it’s ok.

Will not create works that contain: Any ships (Not that we don’t love ships! But this auction is for a single character per artwork) Any AO3 warnings (I.e., violence, death, rape/non-con, underage, etc.) Kink (i.e., bondage, infantilization, etc.) Hydra Mpreg

-- Art --

Auction ID: 1069

Will create works for the following relationships: Avengers fandom any gen - MCU Captain America fandom any gen - MCU Iron Man fandom any gen - MCU Thor fandom any gen - MCU Black Panther fandom any gen - MCU Guardians of the Galaxy fandom any gen - MCU Captain Marvel fandom any gen - MCU Ant-Man fandom any gen - MCU Moon Knight fandom any gen - MCU

Work Description: Marvel Art Party (Group Offering from 8 Artists + bonus) We are offering art from eight individual artists, all members of the Marvel Art Party Discord server: - amberdreams - rufferto - magpiemurder - sweatypeaches - heyboy - maichan - helene - amadness2method - call_me_kayyyyy (Bonus artist offering) You get to choose 1-3 characters, 1-3 prompts, and the highest rating level you are comfortable with. Each artist will then work independently and interpret one character and one prompt in their own style (this will be a discussion- we won’t just choose a character and prompt without talking with you about what you want). Over the next year, you will receive eight unique pieces of art and a bonus pet offering (delivered digitally). Call_me_kayyyy will only be drawing a Marvel pet as a bonus offering. Example: If you pick Bucky as the character, you can also pick an animal character such as Jeff the Land Shark as the pet. Note that this auction is for art of a single character per artwork, not a ship. Examples of prompts you might choose include: A pinup style pose, an illustration of a character from a fic, a movie scene, an AU, a specific setting, a specific activity, a specific emotion, etc. If you are interested in a character or prompt that might be seen as problematic, please send us an email to double check that we can draw it. The diversity of artists means you will receive art in a wide variety of styles and ratings (up to the highest rating you request).

Ratings: Gen, Teen, Mature, Explicit

Can pods bid on this auction? Yes - Podbids welcome!

CLICK HERE TO BID ON THIS WORK

The auction runs from October 22 (12 AM ET) to October 28 (11:59:59 PM ET). Visit marveltrumpshate.com during Auction Week to view all of our auctions and to place your bids!

#Marvel-Art-Party #auction: art #mth 2023

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