#raaaaaaa

Okay so like we all want Corbeau to have the big mafia tattoos. Tis a very good thought, very fitting headcanon. But if I may grab the mic for a second-

ARBOK HAND TATTOO 🗣🗣🗣📣📣📣

Little warning: He grabs your neck!!

Like okay imagine if Corbeau had gloves for a second. Good ol' fancy black gloves, hiding the rest of his skin. Thoughts go through your mind, 'Oh, he's covering fingerprints. He's handling poison daily.' Which is fair, yk?

But when you get together, eventually the urge to see his hands grows stronger and stronger. You're sitting on his lap, watching his fingers glide across the keyboard. His sleeve shift just a bit- and you could see that peek of skin on his right wrist. As far as you know, Corbeau's left handed, so the curiosity grows even further.

"You're not usually this quiet," you hear Corbeau say, blinking out of your stupor. His hands reach for your own, crossing your arms to trap you in a gentle embrace. "Something's on your mind."

"Your hands."

"My hands?"

"Why do you wear gloves all the time?"

He pauses, and then chuckles, breath hitting the back of your ear, the nape of your neck. As Corbeau lifts his right arm, he tells you, "Well, it's a matter of decency, believe it or not. I may be the boss here, but I still have standards on how to present myself.

That being said, however..."

He takes hold of his sleeve and pulls it up, colors of purple and magenta popping against the black petals. Your breath gets caught in your throat in awe, eyes following covered fingers tracing the large line of purple, down to the edge of the glove where it continues under.

"I suppose you earned the right to see."

Corbeau slides the glove off, and you gasp softly. The side profile of an arbok lines itself against the flesh where the thumb and pointer meet, fangs prominent in its striking position. When you try to reach it, try to hold it--

It strikes at your neck. A sound of surprise escapes your lips as Corbeau holds your column, pinning your back right up against him, your hands instinctively reaching for his grasp. His Rotom phone flies out and in front of you, popping up the camera and flipping the view to selfie mode. It was Corbeau who groans softly, his hold on your neck tightening ever so slightly, just enough to make you look at the camera as a makeshift mirror.

The arbok tattoo is right at your neck, ready to bite down. Fangs press against your artery.

"Oh wow..." You say, breathless. Corbeau smirks, gold, slitherine eyes making contact through the digital reflection.

LIKE HELLO? PUNKO WYD

I ain't MAD

Live reaction:

She means "than" not "thank you" I promise

I don't think she minds tho 😭

Sigh, I don’t know how to draw Marvel characters. Tony’s hair can get buzzed for all I care. I hate drawing spiky hair

They make me sick and feral