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g1rld1ary · 16 days

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the way i see you ; remus lupin x reader

➻ synopsis: you're an artist, but you never let any of your friends see your work. they finally attend one of your exhibits and see your feelings on paper

➻ word count: 4346

➻ content: swearing, allusions to sex, gryffindor reader but literally mentioned once, no pronouns but implied to be fem reader, kissing, no war AU!!

➻ the remus brainrot is strong rn

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You were an artist, you had been the whole time the boys knew you. Even in first year as a shy eleven year old, you were always scribbling away in a little sketchbook that lived in the big pockets of your robes. The hobby only developed as you got older, expanding mediums and filling countless sketchbooks. When you weren’t studying (or even when you were supposed to be) it was almost a given that you’d be working on a piece somewhere, far from the prying eyes of others.

Your friends caught glances of your art sometimes, doodles on the corner of your essays or notes, maybe a stray page left out in your dorm which told them you were good, but you never ever willingly let them see it. They didn’t know why, truthfully, you didn’t know either, but it had always been that way and everyone had more or less accepted that.

“Have you ever drawn me?” Sirius asked one afternoon as you all sat out by the Black Lake, cocky grin on his face.

“’Course,” You answered simply, moving to turn back to your conversation with Remus.

“Wait, really?”

“Well you have to have drawn me then, right? Can’t just be Padfoot!” James cut in quickly, making you laugh, nodding.

“Before everyone starts asking, lets just establish that I’ve drawn all of you at some point, okay?” You thought that would calm them down, but it only riled them up further, much to your chagrin.

“And you haven’t shown us?” Marlene cried dramatically.

“I deserve to see you capture my beauty!” Sirius collapsed in an exaggerated performance and you couldn’t decide whether you were amused or embarrassed, giggling and hiding your face in Remus’ shoulder. He merely pat you on the shoulder, shooting you a fond gaze you couldn’t see. James caught it though, and smirked in a way that Remus knew he was about to be embarrassed.

“Have you drawn Moony?” He asked, and you both looked at him suddenly.

“Padfoot, don’t,” Remus said sternly, then turning to you, “It’s okay, you don’t have to answer… I know they must ruin the picture.” He gestured down to his scars. You just looked at him for a moment, utterly baffled.

“As if some silly scars would stop me from drawing you,” You said, a sweet smile on your lips, “You’re my biggest inspiration, Moony.” He blushed at that but the rest of your friends tactfully ignored it, though the boys shot him some shit-eating looks.

It was probably true that you drew Remus the most, but it was only because you spent the most time with him! Or, that’s what you told yourself anyway. Remus Lupin was your best friend in the world, and you loved him more than anything. Since you were always together and hanging out, clearly you’d draw him more, it was perfectly natural!

Your study sessions together in the library often devolved quickly, essays abandoned to the side, both of you falling into chatter as you studied and sketched him.

“What’re you drawing, dove?” He’d always ask, knowing you’d never tell. You’d simply press your lips into a cheeky smile, shaking your head resolutely.

“Uh-uh,” You’d say, “An artist never reveals her secrets.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s magicians, stupid,” He laughed, running a hand through his curls.

“Oh,” You frowned, “Well I’m that too, aren’t I?”

“Hardly,” He snorted, “Your essays are more doodles than writing.”

“Hey, Slughorn gave me a whole extra mark for the portrait I drew last week, so none of that.”

Or you’d follow him out of the pub you were all in when Remus needed a smoke, sitting on the blacked out window ledge as he lit up. You thought he might have been the most beautiful person in the world when he smoked, the way the lighter brought out the gold flecks in his eyes and hair and the shadows of night emphasised his unreal bone structure. You’d probably drawn him in that exact scenario hundreds of times, but it wasn’t your fault he looked like a fallen angel. When he leaned over to give you a puff you took it gratefully, if only for the proximity. You weren’t much of a smoker, but for Remus you’d let your lungs rot.

It was moments like that where you’d wonder what it would be like to kiss him, lean past the cigarette and put your mouth on his. Sometimes you thought he wanted it too, the way he’d get slightly too close for best friends, his own hand being the one to stick the dart into your mouth, sometimes so close your lips brushed his fingers. Moments like that made you wonder if he loved you back. Then later, when everyone was drunker, you’d see him stick his tongue down some prettier girl’s throat and you’d remember your place as his best friend. If it stung you tried not to show it, letting some sleazy guy a few years older than you buy you drinks until Peter told you it was time to leave.

Still, you were mostly alright with just being friends with Remus. You still got most of the benefits; his conversation, his dry humour, the ability to look at his gorgeous face. Who needed everything else? Plus, you could draw him whenever you wanted, doing whatever you wanted — not in a weird way. Mostly. You still would never admit that you’d drawn him holding your hand, or kissing you, or other things you desired… The magic of art, right?

After years of bugging, you finally submitted to your friends constant nagging. The day that you officially graduated Hogwarts was an emotional one. Seven years of constant laughter and magic (both literal and the sentimental kind) were over, and the world seemed too large and intimidating compared to the familiar walls of your school. Yet there was no stopping it, and you were all Hogwarts graduates.

While all your parents cried and reminisced over coffee in the Great Hall, your friends had gone for one last deep conversation by the Black Lake. Discussions of the future were unavoidable, but were mostly positive. Talks of trips you’d take, apartments you’d live in and hell you’d raise. When you all quietened down slightly, struck by it being the last time you’d sit in front of the lake, you cleared your throat.

“Um, I have something for you guys, a graduation gift.” From your purse you pulled the envelopes, all filled with fancy cardstock from the art shop near your family home. You’d drawn a simple grey-lead portrait of each of your friends, framed with a little message of congratulations. You watched anxiously as they each opened the envelopes, nervous all the hype would make the art seem inconsequential. Your fear couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Sirius gasped dramatically as he saw what it was, but a genuine smile followed straight after. James burst straight into tears, hardly getting the picture all the way out. You could tell Lily was trying not to follow, but seeing her boyfriend cry set off the waterworks for her. Marlene and Mary were inspecting the others, pointing out the little details you’d put in, like Mary’s favourite daisy earrings or the slit Marlene had impulsively shaved into her eyebrow only a few weeks before. Peter was bright pink, flattered to the highest degree. Remus was hard to read, simply staring at you with the strangest look in his eye. You couldn’t ask him about it though, being ambushed with hugs from every direction.

“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding all this talent from us,” Peter said, the rest agreeing.

“Didn’t know we had our very own Da Vinci hiding behind a Gryffindor tie,” Marlene added, making you blush and grin.

You dreaded to imagine what it would look like from an outsider’s perspective, the eight of you teary, sweaty messes all piled on top of each other. Well, seven of you.

“Come on, Moony,” James called in a sing-song voice, “If you can’t submit to a hug at our graduation I am going to give you the biggest, slobberiest kiss and you won’t be able to do a thing about it.” Remus snorted, rolling his eyes.

“You look like absolute wankers,” Was all he said, but joined the pile nonetheless, and you were extra glad he was mainly holding on to you. When you all finally pulled away it was minutes later, but the whole thing was strangely cathartic.

“We all have to promise that we’ll always be friends, no matter what,” Mary said, putting her pinky finger out. The rest of you agreed, sticking your pinkies in for a very convoluted eight way promise. With that sorted your friends started heading back up the hill to the school building, ready to leave Hogwarts forever and prepare for a long night of heavy drinking. Remus held you back. James sent you a suggestive glance when he noticed but left it that, drawing Lily in for a bittersweet kiss.

You turned to Remus, only for his eyes to be locked on the portrait. You’d spent so much time trying to get it perfect for him, practising the stupid knot he insisted on tying every day despite the rest of the school going with a less convoluted method of wearing their ties.

“Do you like it?” You asked, subconsciously twisting your ring around your pointer finger. Remus let out a half laugh.

“I love it, honest. It’s insane, really. That you can make this just like that. It’s just…” You searched his eyes for the rest of the sentence. “You make me look…” He didn’t finish but you knew immediately what he meant. Remus hated looking at himself, training his eyes down in the bathroom and opting to always be the photographer so he didn’t have to see himself in the final product. You knew of course it was because of his scars, but you genuinely couldn’t believe he thought they were ugly, much less made him ugly.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, just once,” You sighed, grabbing his free hand and interlocking your fingers, leading him back to where the others were waiting.

Four years out of Hogwarts and you’d all kept your promise. Of course you didn’t see each other quite as much as the boarding school schedule allowed, but the boys all had an apartment together which brought you together often enough — except James and Lily who were married and had moved down to Godric’s Hollow to raise baby Harry. That similarly brought you all to meet often, all determined to spoil Harry as his aunts and uncles.

You weren’t a full-time artist professionally, though you still did it just as much. You’d evolved to paints by then; living with a muggle because the rent was cheap had the added bonus of not having to worry about leaving your paintings on the easel since you didn’t really care what they thought about your art anyway.

Your friends were all huddled in the boys’ apartment living room, every seat taken as you all caught up. You were on the couch with Remus, absentmindedly running your hands through his hair as his head rested on your lap. You still weren’t dating, but Lily always said you might as well have been. You laughed her off every time — if he hadn’t said anything by now how could he feel the same way? You tried to pretend it didn’t still sting.

You’d tried dating, Remus too. He’d had countless partners since you’d finished school — even more one night stands. Nothing lasted more than a few months. You’d done slightly better, you made it about a year with some bloke that Remus hated before he revealed himself as a colossal dickhead, and you’d been mostly single since.

The group was trying to organise their next meeting.

“What about the movies next Friday? I wanna see that new muggle film, Knife Runner,” James suggested and you and Remus both snorted.

“Blade Runner, love,” Lily corrected with a giggle and James burst out laughing, making a quick joke at his own expense. You’d dug your planner out of your purse to check your availability and frowned, closing the book quickly.

“I can’t do next Friday, sorry, how about Saturday?”

“And what plans have you got on a Friday night, you minx?” Mary asked with wiggling eyebrows. Even Remus looked interested, which made your heart stutter.

“Just a work thing,” You answered quickly, not wanting to reveal the real reason.

“You lie like a rug!” Marlene yelled, sitting up from her spot on the floor. You winced, you shouldn’t have made an excuse that she could so easily disprove, being in the same department of the ministry. “What plans are you too embarrassed to tell us about, slag?” You laughed shortly, their assumptions were so completely off.

“It’s not what you think—”

“Not what you think my arse, who’s ‘Davis Show’ and why is he surrounded by hearts, you absolute tart!” Sirius cried, displaying the planner for everyone to see. You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, wheezing as you looked at your friends’ faux-scandalised expressions.

“Look you twats, Davis Show isn’t a man. I’ve been invited to put my art in a show at the Davis Gallery down on Welking Road next week. I can assure you I’m not shagging a man named Davis.”

The whiplash was immediate, the gossip sniffing exchanged for celebrations, you couldn’t tell whose yelling was whose. Peter immediately ran to the kitchen for a bottle of champagne, passing glasses around the room. When the initial excitement wore down you were subjected to a million questions, and tried to answer each of them patiently.

“I can’t believe you weren’t gonna tell us,” Mary pouted and you sighed.

“You know how I get about my art,” You explained, “It’s not that I don’t love you all, obviously, it just makes me so nervous thinking about you guys all seeing my stuff.”

“You know we’re all coming now, right?” James said, wiping his glasses where the champagne bubbles had created smudges.

“You really don’t have to,” You put in quickly, “It’s so embarrassing.”

“Why won’t you let us appreciate you?” Marlene whined.

“It’s just, my art is like an extension of my soul. I don’t think I’d be able to recover if you didn’t think it was good.” Your friends grew rowdy at that, offended you’d even think they wouldn’t adore your art no matter what. You felt Remus put a hand on your thigh and gave him a weak smile, knowing he’d shut down the conversation if you wanted him to. You didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing though, especially when everyone was being so supportive. You figured everyone was so busy they’d forget it by the next week anyway.

Friday came, and you were a wreck of nerves. Although you’d sold pieces here and there throughout the years, this show would be the first time your art would be displayed as a collective, and you were terrified of rejection.

You’d figured your friends weren’t actually coming since none of them had really mentioned anything since. Apart from Lily, of course, who’d sent an owl to your desk that morning with a sweet good luck note and your favourite chocolate.

Even Remus hadn’t said anything when you went for coffee on your lunch break. That did puzzle you, you knew he would never go if he thought it would make you uncomfortable, but it wasn’t like him as your best friend to forget something so monumental in your life. You thought he was acting kind of weird though, more affectionate than he usually was. He kept looking at you longer than he should, and you wondered if you’d miscounted how far away the next full moon was. When you asked him about it he just brushed it off, looking down at his tea instead like he’d been caught.

“I love you,” He said and you laughed.

“I love you too, Lupin!” You cooed, patting him softly on the hand.

“You’re amazing, you know?” You arched a brow.

“What are you trying to make up for?” You asked suspiciously, giving him a once over to search for answers.

“Nothing, promise,” He smiled in a way that made your knees a little weak, “I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

“You’re gonna give me an ego,” You grumbled, packing up your things to get back to work. As you parted ways he pressed a kiss down to your cheek and you stumbled. Remus was never this affectionate as a person — a pat on the back, a hug if you needed one, yes, but he was never one for casual platonic kisses. You figured it must have been his way to apologise for not coming to the art show? But he knew you didn’t mind, so what was he apologising for? You tried to shake it off and get back to work, but you couldn’t get your closeness out of your head.

Evening fell and you were setting up your stall before the other patrons came in. Rearranging the paintings until you were pretty much perfectly happy, you looked around, still not fully believing you were really here. People were filtering in, well dressed and chattering softly as young waiters handed out flutes of champagne. You straightened out your silky black skirt in an effort to look more presentable, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

At first things were slow, and you almost regretted not inviting your friends, if only so they could make your area look more interesting. And once you let that thought in, you kind of regretted not inviting them anyway. After all, they were the dearest people in your life and this was such a meaningful event to you.

You couldn’t think about that for long though since people had begun to filter over to you, making polite small talk as they admired your paintings. You tried to be energetic, smiling widely if you ever locked eyes with someone. However, deep down, you just wanted your friends.

A little old woman approached you for a while, wanting to know the meaning behind basically every painting and you told her happily, sharing the memories that inspired each work.

“Seems like you’ve got some true friends,” She said, “I hope you keep them close.” You agreed, thanking her profusely as she bought a landscape of the Whomping Willow.

It was growing closer and closer to closing, and honestly, it had been a wonderful night. Seeing the way that people reacted and interacted with your art was a magical experience, and changed the way you thought about it entirely. You decided that if you ever got the opportunity again, you’d want to share it with everyone else.

You were just moving to start packing up when you heard a myriad of gasps.

“What the fuck, dude?” The unmistakeable voice of Marlene McKinnon said from behind you. You whipped around to meet them, breaking into a cheek splitting smile.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked, rushing over to scoop them all up into a hug.

“Fuck that, why didn’t you tell us that we’re your exhibition?” Sirius cried, running up to examine the paintings more clearly.

“And that they’re literally professional?” Peter added, eyes wide in wonder. You flushed red under their praise. If your friends thought your pencil portraits were good, they were nothing compared to your paintings.

Plus, every one of them was of your friends, or something sentimental to you all. Landscapes of Hogwarts, portraits of your friends, captured memories of long summer days, or life sketches from when you were all together. You watched them observe the paintings with nervous excitement, loving as they gave specific, personal compliments that only people who truly knew you could give.

“This our apartment,” Sirius said, pointing to one of your biggest pieces, “That’s our couch, the pillow Prongs has permanently ruined with butterbeer, that’s Moony!”

“There are a lot of paintings of Moony, aren’t there?” James whispered to you, wiggling his eyebrows. You flushed again. Sirius continued on, seeming (or pretending) not to have heard.

“We have to have this in the flat. Right boys?” Your eyes widened.

“Really?”

“For sure,” Peter said, “I’m buying this one too.” He gestured to one of him and James playing chess in the Gryffindor common room.

“And this is taking pride of place at home.” James pointed to a portrait of his and Lily’s wedding, and Lily similarly chose one of her and baby Harry. Marlene took one of her and Mary on the beach and Mary took one of the group at a house party. Half your paintings ended up being sold by the end of the night, and you couldn’t feel luckier. The only one who hadn’t said anything was Remus, who couldn’t keep his eyes off the paintings.

You shooed your friends out of the gallery once it really was closing time, and got to work packing away your things. You were deep in thought, reflecting on the wild day when someone cleared their throat behind you. It was Remus, and he moved to help you put your things away, stacking the paintings between bubble wrap to protect them.

“These are really beautiful,” He said, “I mean, we knew you were talented but… these are seriously on another level.”

“Thanks, Remus.” You smiled, unable to make eye contact as you watched him handle all the paintings you’d done of him. Portraits like the others, but also studies of his hands — god you were obsessed with his hands — his profile, and one less than innocent picture of his back, scars resting over muscles. You probably shouldn’t have put that one out, but to be fair you didn’t know he’d see it.

There was a somewhat awkward silence between the two of you. Not uncomfortable, per se, but there were definitely things you both wanted to say that neither knew how to.

“Let me drive you home,” Remus settled on and you nodded, letting him help you load your work into the boot of his car. You sat in the passenger seat, absentmindedly tapping your fingers on the dashboard to whatever radio station Remus had turned on. Remus stared straight ahead, knuckles pulled tight around the steering wheel.

“I’m really proud of you, you know. This whole show was incredible.” You went to thank him again but he kept talking. “I just wanted to know, um, there were a lot of paintings of me. I was just wondering why, why me?” You hesitated, unsure of what was going to come out of your mouth.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” You decided on with a bit of a sigh.

“You’ve said that before, what does that mean?” Your breath hitched. You definitely didn’t intend for it all to come out tonight, but if you didn’t say it now you doubted you ever would.

“You are the most beautiful person I know, Remus. I mean, even aside from your personality — which we know I have to be at least somewhat a fan of after all these years — you’re totally fit. Your eyes, your hair, God, your fucking bone structure, you’re literally a walking renaissance painting. And I know you think your scars make you ugly, but you don’t know how turned on I get thinking about how they’d feel on my skin.” Shit, you probably should’ve stopped talking.

You hadn’t realised he’d parked while you were rambling, but now you were sitting outside his apartment and he was looking at you with eyes that looked more like the wolf than him.

“I turn you on?” He whispered, voice suddenly gravelly as he leaned closer in to you.

“More than anything,” You breathed, brain buffering at the feeling of his breath on your face. Suddenly his mouth was on yours, hot and electric and not at all gentle. It felt like years of pent up frustration being let out all at once, and if he was anything like you, it probably was.

“Up,” He mumbled between kisses and you heard him undoing his seatbelt, hurrying to do the same. You barely disconnected to get out of the car, attaching yourself to his arm as he led the way up to the boys’ flat.

You made it up the three flights of stairs, not without Remus pushing you up against the stairwell wall to stick his tongue in your mouth, and stumbled straight into his bedroom, shedding layers as soon as the door was safely shut.

The next morning you awoke first, initially convinced you were dreaming when you saw him lying peacefully beside you. Eventually you rolled onto your side, ready to get out of bed for a glass of water when his nightstand caught your eye. There, in pride of place, was your graduation portrait of him, with a polaroid of the two of you stuck to the corner. Maybe he really had liked you as long as you’d liked him.

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boxbug · 8 months

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A Canary’s Final Flight

My piece for @trafficzine 4th edition! Get it for free here! 200 pages of excellent art and fics, incredible work from all participants and from the mods especially!! huge shoutout to the mods for real

Process notes under the cut! (I struggled a lot so it's a bit of a novel)

So the entire process was a Ride. I knew when I picked this prompt that I was going to have a hard time, because Jimmy’s final death had been illustrated a billion times over by extremely talented artists. But I had a Vision of the snapshot of the second before the impact, when everything is still but you know what’s about happen. It was very much inspired by the clip of Fog by Jabberwocky, bu the thing is, they have the advantage of all the build up of the fall, and that’s when the trouble started.

This was my first version, and obviously it wasn't working. And I was trying so hard, with so many iterations! Small wings, big wings, no wings, different poses, less backgrounds elements. I'd done compositions were everything seemed peaceful but something is Wrong, but it wasn't working this time.

So instead I focused on what rendering I'd like to do - I tried a painterly approach, for that visceral feeling, but it wasn't working either (but hey, I did keep the red sky, so, progress)

At this point I'd been doing back and forths for weeks and I was just as lost as at the start. Now that's my tip for people who make art of any kind, in situations like that, stop thinking about how you can make the best piece possible, and think about you can have fun with it (because when you aren't it's visible). And for that was, 1 - going back to using ink and pen nibs and doing way too detailed inking, and 2- looking at Dave McKean's covers for Sandman (which, funnily enough, was also a reference for my previous trafficzine piece)

And from there I was actually going somewhere! Between the jagged rocks, the red sky, and the increased verticality with the borders, I had hit the vibes I wanted.

I did some experimentation with the border, and even though I really liked the bad boys I drew they were taking too much away from the lonely desolation, so I actually used Red (Unecessary Redstone)'s idea of all of Jimmy's worldy's possessions scattered on the ground post impact, with the idea to make it looks like the central image is his grave being dug.

(and yes for a short amount of time the were supposed to be clock markings on the sun, but there was already enough going with the wings so I scrapped that) (also fun fact the reason why the wings aren't fully material but more ghostly is because my toddler cousin was watching me draw the very first draft and asked why he didn't just use his wings and i went :( so the wings are a metaphor now)

So from there I found a bunch of picture and took some myself, cut and assembled everything together, added shadows in all the appropriate places, and repainted some elements so that everything would look better intergrated (some of the wheats are basically 100% handpainted, the cardboard as well). This took a suprisingly long amount of time, but I was done!

Well I wasn't expecting to have that much to say, but I hope if you're still reading, it was at least interesting!

#trafficzine #limited life #limlife #limlife fanart #jimmy solidarity fanart #solidaritygaming #i forgot all the tags augh #curse of not posting often #mcyt fanart #mcyt #zine illustration #zines #my art

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38sr · 10 months

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My Adventures with Superman EP 4: Design Works

My goodness it feels so strange to see these designs two years later but I actually had a hand in Clark, Lois and Jimmy’s gala suits in episode 4 of My Adventures with Superman!

This happened WAY back in Sept 2021 but during my first week on the show I jokingly sent a piece of art to one of the design leads and well, one thing led to another:

This is kind of running gag with my work, but I somehow always predict things when I draw fanart haha. I truly didn’t know there was gonna be a gala episode and now I was tasked to do a pass for the main trio’s gala outfits.

CLARK KENT

Naturally since it started with Clark, he was the first one I did a pass on. I actually really like men’s suits design so this was the most fun to design out of the three. Overall, I drafted up four different suits that gave 4 different feels for our soft boi. Option A was a full 3 piece with slick backed hair (which honestly now feels very Bruce Wayne than Clark haha). Option B had a high school prom feel, Option C was more business casual (hence why his dress shirt was unbuttoned at top) and finally Option D was sleek turtleneck & suit combo. Honestly, I was rooting Option D ‘cause I’m a sucker for a turtleneck but if I remember correct they went with Option B ‘cause it felt the most Clark. But just know I tried haha.

LOIS LANE

Lois’s outfit was quite challenging since I had no clue until I was given the assignment that she’s Korean (yes, Lois is canonically Korean in the show). I remember the design leads Jane Bak and Dou Hong showing me a rough concept of a modern hanbok. I spent so many days researching hanboks and the construction behind them...it truly was a learning experience for me haha. It was quite challenging trying to create and outfit that spoke to Lois’ heritage while still keeping her energy. This was my very first pass but I think ultimately the team did a great job to hone in the final look and balance both elements for her outfit (the backless top is just chef’s kiss). Also yes, I did try giving Lois slick back hair haha.

JIMMY OLSEN

There isn’t much to say about Jimmy’s outfit (sadly I left the production to work on Spiderman Freshman Year before seeing what they decided on). But from what I remember, I specifically was looking at men’s outfits from the Met Gala from that year and before (I think Chadwick Boseman was the biggest influence for me at the time). Though I think his final suit design aren’t like too far off from my initial thoughts, it’s still super cool to see how it evolved into the final look! But yeah! Just a little behind the scenes on the work I got to do on the show. Again, super brief since Spidey was calling my name but I truly had so much fun getting to design for this show. MAWS was my first ever time doing design work (since I primarily work as a 2D animator and board artist). I was so nervous but the team was welcoming and taught me so much! I really have to thank Dou Hong and Jake Wyatt for taking a chance on me and allowing me to draw hot anime characters for a DC show haha.

#long post #my adventures with superman #maws #maws spoilers #superman #lois lane #clark kent #jimmy olsen #digital art #character design

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justporo · 9 months

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Still more fluffy relationship headcanons for Astarion and Tav

You guys seem to really like these, so I'm keeping them going for as long as I can. And - I know I said I couldn't do requests atm - but when (if?) I run out of ideas how about you can send me prompts for headcanons on specific topics?

Here we go though, more small ideas and moments for these two idiots!

Astarion is a tease, always flirting with you (for the most part), always kissing you or touching you, always whispering something dirty directly into your pointy ear; sometimes even doing that flat out while you're out in public... with people around.

Deep down he's always wondering though when the day will come that you don't want to be with him anymore; you know that and you try your absolute best to remind him every moment of every day that you want to be with him forever, slowly working to turn the "when" into an "if" and then making him forget altogether

You are basically a street cat, but Astarion? He's a man of culture! And he loves to take you out and frankly just goddamn educating you

He takes you to museums, telling you in incredible detail about the artworks and the displays because he knows his history, also - he's incredibly smart; you enjoy not only him enjoying himself talking about stuff he likes but also just eat it up, eager to learn about stuff you never had the chance to before

Dancing: That's another thing. He knows all the dances: from the silly court dances Wyll showed you once, to the much more interesting and intimate ones where you're flush against one another's bodies

He teaches you, being so close to him, you can't stop fawning, holding you like you're something incredibly fragile and precious while moving you ever so passionately

You've never done this and are incredibly insecure at the beginning, but "Don't worry, love, let me hold you and I'll guide you, you just look pretty" - but then you pick it up quickly and it becomes one of your favourite pastimes with him

You have artful skills of your own though: since you're a former thief and had to stake out targets and places sometimes for weeks on end, you had a lot of time on your hands and taught yourself to draw a long time ago and drew whatever you had to observe: a nice compromise between keeping your eyes on whatever mattered and still having something to do

So, you finally draw him, something you'd promised him a long time ago when you merely had started travelling together; you spend a whole night just to get the first portrait right and Astarion gets uneasy because can't you just let him have a little sneak-peek?

When you show him the drawing, he's just speechless - "What, even more magnificent than you remembered?" you tease him, but you see how his fingers are tensing holding the paper and there's a single tear on his cheek when he looks and smiles at you broadly "No, love, just flustered about how you don't seem to get my chin right"; you call him a liar softly and he sniffles and draws you in for a really long hug and he thanks you deeply

Ah, I also love using these to sneak in facts and ideas for my Tav and helping me flesh out a backstory and more details for their story and relationship. Also don't mind me sprinkling a little angst on there.

Of course, the drawing idea has been imagined many times before and rightfully so, Astarion deserves it. But it's... I haven't drawn really in a loooong time but he really makes me want to give a portrait ago. I had to get it out for personal reasons.

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eddiesghxst · 3 months

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a very big thank you to my bby @mmunson86 bc she listens and entertains all of my random ass bursts of inspo and helped me decipher the plot to these two babies (and many many others hehe), ilysm stinky ��

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: older!NASCAR driver!eddie munson x pop singer!reader

summary: Eddie's a famous former NASCAR driver who now does paint jobs for celebrities, and you just so happen to need a paint job

contains: oral (f receiving), banter, flirting, and eddie being head over heels for reader <3

word count: 2k

| nascar!eddie x pop singer!reader masterlist | -main masterlist- |

Thursday is Eddie’s favorite day.

One more day til the weekend, things are slow at the shop, and Bug, the detailer, usually pays for lunch. So, Eddie’s usually pretty fucking happy on Thursday— usually. However, it’s hard to be happy when you wake up to a music video of a famous pop singer crashing the car you’d just spent weeks working on.

Now, Eddie’s all for creativity and expressing art in different forms of destruction, but it’s hard to see the art in smashing a brand new McLaren, freshly painted and detailed by none other than Eddie Munson himself. Sure, you paid for it, so it’s basically a waste of your money, but it’s also a waste of Eddie’s time and work.

“Turn this song off, Bug,” Eddie grumbles from under his mask, focused on spraying fine lines of paint onto the car in front of him. It’s your song. The song that you’d smashed Eddie’s car into smithereens for. That being said, even if Eddie is utterly and incredibly displeased with how you’d decided to treat Eddie’s hard work, his heart skips a beat when he hears the familiar tone of your voice, “You don’t like my music, Munson?”

Eddie pauses his task, blinking a few times to clear the possibility of the paint fumes finally getting to his head and making him hallucinate. And if Eddie’s hallucinating, then his brain is quite vivid because the click of your heels is drawing closer and closer with the smell of your sweet perfume.

Eddie puts the spray gun back on the cart next to him and stands up, facing you as you approach him. Eddie sighs, tipping his head to the side as he removes his gloves. This isn’t the first time he’s met you; no, he met you when he dropped the car off at your film set. You were kind and soft-spoken, with a pretty smile and voice that made Eddie’s chest erupt in butterflies he hadn’t felt in years. You were gorgeous then, and you’re gorgeous now, standing in front of him with that sinister little glint in your eyes.

You’re a pretty young thing, that much is obvious, but it doesn’t negate the fact that you crashed Eddie’s car.

“How can I help you, doll?”

You smile, tipping your head as you watch Eddie remove the mask from his face, tossing it onto the tool cart along with the disposable gloves. “Need a paint job for my new car. Wanted the best in town.” You sweetly say.

Eddie huffs out a laugh, “A paint job?”

You blink up at Eddie, pretty eyes and cute lashes batting up at him. God, you’re perfect. It's no wonder why the entire world is head over heels in love with you.

“You crashed my car, honey.” Eddie points out.

Your hopeful gaze falters then, lips dipping into a ghost of a frown, “It wasn’t my idea.” You respond. “You crashed my car. For a music video,” he drawls, “Do you know how much time I spent on that car?”

Bug seems to take that as his cue to leave because suddenly he’s tossing his tool in his toolbox and calling over his shoulder, “Goin’ to lunch, boss.” And there goes Eddie’s free lunch.

A flash of guilt passes through your eyes before you huff with a roll of your eyes, shifting to lean on one foot as you cross your arms over your chest, “It wasn’t your car.”

“It’s got my work written all over it.”

“Again, it wasn’t my idea.”

Eddie tilts his head, lips pouting as he shrugs mockingly, in a way. “But you went with it.”

Eddie had been slowly walking you backward across the empty garage, pressing and pressing until you reached his parked car, your body coming to a sudden stop with a hitch in your breath. You huff out a laugh, rolling your eyes for the second time, “Well, I was filming a music video. I just do what they tell me to and look pretty— it’s kind of my job, Eddie.”

“Yeah?” Eddie’s eyes fall to your lips for a split second.

You lick your lips, cocking your head to the side as you gaze up at him, “Obviously.”

Eddie’s lips twitch like he wants to smile, a smirk lingering in his tone as he mocks you, “Obviously.”

“You really don’t like my music?”

You feel like you’re losing your mind. Not only are you standing in the famous Munson’s Paint & Body garage, but you’re standing face to face with the Eddie Munson— famous former NASCAR driver and hot as fuck body man.

It’s like all those Sundays you spent back in high school watching him race as your dad bet money with his friends on who would win are flashing before your eyes. Okay, so you’re fangirling a little bit; who wouldn’t? It’s Eddie fucking Munson.

“Never said I didn’t like your music; I just don’t like the fact that you crashed my car.”

And well, you feel bad. You didn’t know the car would get hurled off a cliff in the middle of the California desert, but it was a little late to protest against that when it was flying through the wind at 90 miles per hour with literal flames decorating the wheels.

“I’m sorry,” you finally apologize. “I shouldn’t have let them destroy your car… which was technically my car for my music video.” You and Eddie share a playful gaze, but it’s soon overthrown with something lustful when Eddie reaches out, fingers toying with the waistband of your denim skirt. “You’re playing with fire, princess.” He lowly says.

You hum, tipping your head as he towers over you, bodies pressing against one another as you dance along the edge of the thick line of tension, “Wanna do something about it?” A sly smirk and glinting brown eyes have you weak in the knees, your body heating up like a fucking furnace as the man silently gazes at you.

It’s like the spread of wildfire when he presses his lips against yours, a warm hand coming up to cup your cheek as he presses you against the hood of his car. Your skirt is short, and it rides up when he maneuvers you further up the hood. You let out a shaky breath against his lips when the cool metal of the car meets the hot skin of your thighs.

You’d be lying if you hadn’t somewhat come here with the intention of getting your hands on the handsome older man— there’s no denying there was some kind of energy bouncing between the two of you when you briefly met him on the set of your music video. Eddie’s got a way of looking at you with daring yet respectful eyes that make you want to pounce— he had it then when you first met, and he has it now.

He’s pawing at you like he’s addicted, big hands grasping at your sides as he practically devours you. It’s sloppy and wet and so fucking addicting you wish you didn’t have to breathe so you could just keep kissing him.

He’s slinking his hands down to your thighs, hooking them into the crooks of your knees and pressing them up, spreading you wide for him as he kisses down your neck. He reaches one hand up, tugging down at your shirt to give him room to mark the swell of your breasts. Your breath hitches when your bare nipple meets the cool air, and he laves his tongue over it, “W-what about— fuck.” You whimper as Eddie hums, kissing further down your body and fully pushing up your denim skirt to mouth at your thighs. You press your thighs closer together, pressing up onto your elbows to gaze down at Eddie as he kneels between your legs.

“What about your employees?” You ask.

Eddie mouths at your thigh, kneading at the fat of your skin as he speaks, “Just me and Bug today. Open up, baby.” His brown eyes are like swirling hypnotic pools, and your body moves in accord with his directions, thighs parting to show him the damp material of your flimsy panties.

Eddie groans, leaning forward to drag his tongue up the damp spot before gently nipping at the material. He’s impatient, so he only hooks his thumb in the hem of the cotton and hooks it off to the side, keeping it pinned beneath his thumb so he has full access to your dripping cunt. He doesn’t waste time, laving his tongue from your opening up to your clit, teasingly running the tip of his tongue in circles over your sensitive bud just to hum at the pitiful whimpers and whines that escape your mouth.

Your eyes roll when he closes his mouth around your clit, sucking and licking and teasing until you’re fully moaning, reaching down to thread your fingers into his curly locks, knuckles curling at the root to gently tug him deeper into your cunt.

“Yeah, yeah,” He breathes, “Fuck my face, princess, there we go.” It’s so wet, his voice, so wet and eager and mind-numbingly gorgeous.

He teases two thick fingers at your entrance before sinking them into you and curling them in a come hither motion. Your legs twitch to close around his head, “Oh, fuck. Fuck, Eddie, I’m so close.”

You’re teetering on the edge, heat brewing in your lower tummy as Eddie devours you like it’ll be his last fucking meal. The lights overhead are bright, and there’s heavy metal playing from the shop speakers. Still, all you can bring yourself to focus on is the sinful drag of Eddie’s tongue up and down the entirety of your cunt, sticky strings of arousal and spit smearing all over your thighs and his face, and your moans increase in volume when he slinks a hand up to squeeze at your chest.

His fingers are gentle yet overwhelming as they pet at your sensitive spot, and before you know it, you’re body is tensing, and you’re coming around his thick digits, soaking his chin as you fail to keep your thighs open and sounds to a minimum.

Eddie doesn’t mind, though, it seems, because he only moans and nuzzles his face deeper into your pussy, greedily licking into you like it’s his last chance— and hopefully it’s not.

You must have spaced out because, between the immense pleasure and the sinfully beautiful sight of Eddie between your thighs, you seem to only come back to earth once Eddie places your panties back over your pussy, pressing a gentle kiss to your covered and aching clit.

He snickers when you twitch in overstimulation, “You’re real cute when you cum, you know?” He says before pressing a kiss into your thigh. You huff out a laugh, leaning on your elbows to watch as he stands up to hover over you, pressing his palms into the hood of the car on either side of your blissed-out body. “Thank you?” You say. Eddie laughs, eyes twinkling with admiration as he gazes down at you.

“I’ll cut you a deal, alright?” He starts. Though your mind is still foggy with the lingering effects of your orgasm, your eyes narrow in suspicion as you tell Eddie to continue. Eddie sighs, leaning in further, “You let me take you on a date, and I’ll paint your car— I’ll also forget all about you crashing my car.”

Even if you want to point out that the car wasn’t Eddie’s, yet again, you can’t help the giggle that slips from your lips as you give in and nod, “Okay. One date.”

Eddie beams, raising an eyebrow as he responds, “Yeah?” You want to lean in and kiss him, but you think the heat of the moment from before had been fuel to the boldness that you’re now lacking.

You nod before holding up your index finger, “One,” you stress, “No promises for a second. I don’t have another car for you to paint.” You joke, but Eddie only shrugs with a smug look.

“Sweetheart, I’ve got enough cars for you to last a lifetime of dates.”

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golden-barnes · 2 years

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Operation get Mr Bucky and Momma together

Paring: Beefy and Teacher! Bucky x milf! reader

Summary: Bucky doesn't play favorites but Amaya is definitely his favorite, especially because her mom is hot.. Cue a 6-year-old trying to get Bucky to be her dad. {wc: 2.2k}

Warning: a bit of bucky being insecure but not that much, Karen parent being annoying, bucky is a fool but amaya is gonna fixed it.

a/n: I've been sitting on this for months but I had to step back from this account bc of everything. thankfully I finished this before my electricity went puff but not my best job. pls have mercy bc I'm rusty.

Part 2

Bucky knew there weren’t many male first-grade teachers. But honestly, it was his dream job. He was teaching the country's future and helping them become better people.

Also, 6-year-olds love him, especially with his fantasy land classroom he forced Steve to help decorate. Bucky loved being a teacher, and he loved his kids. Relatively easy to get up every day at 6 am when you love your job.

That being said, he knows he shouldn’t have a favorite student. So it’s basically written in the teacher’s rule book.

But Amaya was undoubtedly his favorite of his unruly kids. She was very spirited. Amaya loved helping out her classmates and talking to them. She was just the best student he had ever had.

She is amusing. Every day she comes to him with a story about her mom. Unfortunately, Bucky hadn't met her yet because she was busy with work. Still, he interacted with Amaya’s second contact, Natasha.

At this point, Bucky feels like he knows her. How she likes tulips. Her favorite color is pink, which is Amaya’s favorite, but that’s a funny coincidence. He knows that Amaya and her mom go to the museum every week on the day they have special events for kids. Amaya’s favorite exhibit is the one about mythical creatures.

“Momma likes the one with the paintings. She likes the one with the man who gives the girl a flower.” Amaya tells Bucky. Amaya always goes to Bucky’s desk after finishing her classwork because if she doesn’t, she distracts her classmates. Or give her classmates the answers, so this is the only way to keep her entertained. She always takes this time to draw something for Bucky to hang on his wall of drawings.

“Oh, Mister Bucky! Momma is going to come to pick me up today.” Bucky cursed mentally, completely forgetting today was parent-teacher conference.

Talking to 6-year-olds was a lot easier than talking to adults. Especially when you are telling parents that their kids are having problems. The worst part of the job, honestly. If Bucky could just teach his kids, send letters to the parents, and never interact with them, he would.

“Going to meet the elusive Miss (Y/N)?” Steve, his best friend, asked. Because of budget cuts, Steve was currently the art teacher for the entire school. Did he like it? Probably not having the kindergarteners put glitter in his hair, but he enjoyed a challenge.

“Apparently,” Bucky mumbled, opening his lunch. Just a ham and cheese sandwich because he was running late.

“She finally showing up to a conference?” Sam asked, heating up his lunch. Sam was the history teacher for the 4th and 5th graders. He was also a pain in Bucky’s ass, but he decided not to think about it and focused on his incoming stomach ache.

Fuck, now Bucky had to clean his classroom and prepare everything. What if one of those Karen parents shows up and starts complaining about stupid things? About how his classroom is Lord of the Rings theme and how that's bad for kids? Maybe about how he’s a male teacher? He is already spiraling.

“Oh, you are talking about Amaya’s mom? I met her when I was Amaya’s kindergarten teacher. She’s really nice and - “ Wanda started talking but was interrupted by her twin brother Pietro, the gym teacher.

“She is also smoking hot. Like ultimate Milf in this whole school. ” He comments, which makes Bucky feel even worse because how will he talk with a pretty girl? He hasn’t done that since college.

Wanda rolled her eyes at her brother and sat down next to Steve to eat her lunch.

“You’ll be great though, Barnes. She’s really nice, and you are a great teacher, so you won’t have any problems with her.” Wanda reassures her coworker. Bucky takes a deep breath and takes another bite off his sandwich.

“And I still believe my son should be seated in the front.” Mrs. Robinson complained, which she had been doing for the past hour and a half. Going past the hour dialogue they are supposed to be having. But since Amaya’s mom is running late.

“Mrs. Robinson, I understand, but some kids in the classroom require specific accommodations. Because of that, the entire front row is taken. So I can’t sit Tommy in the front. “ Bucky explained for the 10th time. Mrs. Robinson just rolled her eyes and huffed.

Before she could complain again, someone knocked on the door. A woman in formal and professional clothing stepped into the classroom. Amaya popped into the classroom with the brightest smile.

“Mister Bucky! I brought Momma!” She screamed excitedly. Amaya’s mom tried to quiet her, but from Bucky’s experience, Amaya is impossible to corral.

“Well, Mrs. Robinson, my 4 o'clock is here.” Bucky said nervously, trying to politely kick out Mrs. Robinson and her big-ass attitude.

“We could discuss this further in another parent-teacher conference.” It took everything for Bucky not to roll his eyes. Fucking self-observed parents think their children are the only ones that matter, Bucky thinks to himself.

“Sorry for my tardiness; I got held up at work.” Amaya’s mom apologizes. Woah, she really is pretty, Bucky thinks.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. (Y/L/N).” Bucky says, trying to catch his breath.

“Please call me (Y/N).” She smiled sweetly at Bucky. Bucky gulped.

“Let me get to the point; Amaya is a fantastic student. One of the best. She is above her group’s reading level. She writes pretty clearly for her age. No complaints from me; whatever you are doing at home is workin’.” Bucky explained, (Y/N) smiling at her daughter, who was too entertained with Bucky’s snowball on his desk.

“Thank you, but I can’t take that much credit. Maya absolutely adores you.” Bucky blushes at her praise.

“She’s a good kid; it’s easy to teach kids like her.” Bucky praised Amaya, who was surprisingly quiet. Which would scare Bucky because if there’s one thing he learned from teaching first graders is that quiet means trouble. But he dismissed it because she wouldn’t do anything wild with her mom right next to her.

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes, for everything. With getting a new job and having to provide for my family, you’ve literally given me so much peace.” (Y/N) leaned in closer.

“If I am being honest, I was worried about ‘Maya’s performance at school. “ She whispered, but Bucky gave her a reassuring smile.

“Amaya, could you please give these papers to Mr. Rogers?” Amaya nodded and grabbed the papers Bucky had handed her. Then, Bucky sent a text to Steve telling him to keep Amaya out of his classroom to talk to her mom.

“I haven’t noticed a difference in her behavior if that makes you feel any better,” Bucky reassured her. She sighed.

“I am worried about her. Ever since she was born, her dad has been in and out of her life. Now he has disappeared for good. Amaya has been acting like it doesn’t bother her, but no first grader should hide their feelings.” She confesses. Bucky wants to do two things. 1) kick Amaya’s father for being a piece of shit and abandoning such a precious child and her mom. And 2) himself for getting excited by hearing that (Y/N) is single. He can already hear his mother chastising him.

“I’m so sorry to hear that (Y/N).” Bucky said earnestly. She just shook her head.

“It’s okay. Any advice for me?” She said in a joking tone, trying to alleviate the tension. Bucky lets out a nervous chuckle.

“Just keep being there. In my experience, being present and making the child feel like they have a support system is the best way to help them during this difficult time.” Bucky smiled at her.

“Thank you. See you on Monday?” (Y/N) said, getting up from her chair.

“Yes. Definitely.” Bucky felt his heart beating at a faster pace.

This school year was definitely going to be interesting. So Bucky thinks, watching Y/N walking out of his classroom.

What Bucky doesn’t know is that Amaya plans to make life more enjoyable. She was supposed to be sleeping, but she heard Auntie Tasha’s voice and decided to say hi.

“Nat, you could’ve warned me, you know!” (Y/N) explained. Natasha laughed, handing her best friend a glass of wine.

“He is hot, isn't he?” Natasha grins. Amaya looked at her mom, who had a goofy smile. She has never seen her mom with a smile like that.

“Ridiculously hot. And his eyes? Nat, his eyes are just so gray. I almost spilled my entire life story right there and then.” (Y/N) groans. Natasha just laughs.

“It should be illegal to have a first-grade teacher look that hot.” (Y/N) added, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

“Just wait till you see him in casual Fridays. That man looks excellent in a Henley. “ Natasha joked, but that seemed to disturb (Y/N) even more. “Look out ‘Maya you might have a new daddy.”

What auntie Tasha said made Amaya think. Mister Bucky was her favorite teacher, and she wished her momma would be happy. Them together would mean that she would have Mister Bucky around forever, and Momma would be happy and have a goofy smile like that forever.

That’s when Operation get Mr. Bucky and Momma together was born.

Every day after finishing her classwork, Amaya would go to Bucky’s desk and talk to him. Most of the things she said were little seeds to push him to get close to her mom.

Today was different; Amaya’s patience was thinning. A week passed, and every day when her mom would pick her up, she saw the googly eyes her mom and Mister Bucky were giving each other. It’s time for the big guns, Amaya thought.

“Mister Bucky, do you have a dad?” Buck was shocked at Amaya’s question.

“Yes, I do.” Amaya sighed dramatically after hearing Bucky’s answer.

“I don’t… I wish I knew what that was like.” Bucky’s heart broke hearing that. Amaya had her head down, but Bucky couldn’t see her smirk.

“You will one day. I promise.” Bucky knew he shouldn’t say that but wanted to uplift her and give her hope.

“Hey, Mister Bucky, maybe you could be my dad!” Amaya said, doing a complete 180 in her demeanor. Bucky almost spits out his coffee, and he starts to cough. But unfortunately, he fell right into Amaya’s trap.

“I don’t know about that, Amaya,” Amaya smirks.

“But Mister Bucky, momma already likes you. You would be a great dad.” Was it embarrassing for Bucky that his 6-year-old student was trying to hook him up with her mom? Maybe but hearing that said mom liked him did give him a bit of an ego.

“Really?” Amaya nodded enthusiastically.

“She said that she really likes your eyes.” Amaya admitted. Bucky knew he shouldn’t be asking these questions. If Sam knew, he wouldn’t hear the end of it.

“Is there anything else she said?” Bucky asked, acting casually as if a 6-year-old was gonna read his body language. However, Amaya is too smart for her own good.

“I heard her telling Auntie Jen that she liked it when you wear red shirts.” Bucky made a note to buy more red shirts after school.

“Is your mom going to pick you up today?” Bucky asked; Amaya nodded.

“She said we were going to the mall today,” Amaya explained. She could feel her plan working, but who knows? Grown-ups were weird.

Bucky’s heart needs to catch a break. That being said, seeing (Y/N) every afternoon, his poor heart won't be getting any. Especially when she came in with her lawyer suits. It was like a punch in the gut.

But what really hit him like a punch in the gut was what Amaya said when her mom came to pick her up.

She grabbed Bucky’s hand and pulled him towards her mom, who was waiting outside the classroom.

“Momma, Bucky said he would be my daddy.” Amaya said with the biggest grin. Bucky choked on his own saliva and started coughing. While (Y/N) just started laughing.

“Did he now?” (Y/N) asked her daughter, that was excited that her plan “worked.”

“I- uhm. I didn’t say that she took it out of context. But, I mean- I” Bucky’s ramble was interrupted by (Y/N).

“It’s okay, Mr. Barnes. I know how Amaya can be. Don’t worry.” Bucky sighed out of relief.

“Mommaaaaa…” Amaya whined; her mom just rolled her eyes.

“Yes, ‘Maya?” (Y/N) asked in a snarky tone. Amaya signaled to her to lean down. Amaya whispered something to her. (Y/N) giggled with her daughter.

“Mr. Barnes, would you like to go out for coffee someday?” (Y/N) asked, Amaya still giggling behind her mom.

“I would love to.” Bucky said, which caused Amaya to do a little victory dance in the back. As if nobody could see her. (Y/N) turned around and laughed at her daughter’s antics. She pulled something out of her jacket, a piece of paper.

“I have to go, Mr. Barnes. Sorry for my little troublemaker.”She said, handing him the piece of paper with her personal phone number. Bucky was confused.

“What is this for?” Bucky asked, utterly confused about what this meant.

“For whenever you would like to get that cup of coffee.” She told him, grabbing Amaya’s hand and walking towards his card.

Bucky felt his cheeks heat up. He might admit that Amaya was his favorite student, even if she played matchmaker.

He looked down at the card. Oh, he is gonna call.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #imagine bucky #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you

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lilybug-02 · 7 months

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Happy 2 Year Anniversary to The Chara Timeline ✨

I FINALLY made drawing references for you guys, yippie!✨

It’s wild how long I’ve been working on this comic without reference sheets. I’m never that consistent with my art style, so I figured it was a waste of time 🫥💀😔 this is my first full comic okay…

Thoughts and Feelings About the Comic Below ❤️💖💕💞

Wow. It’s been 2 years??? I thought I would be done with this comic in 2 months! I don’t know whether to feel worried or accomplished!!

(With months between each update, I understand why it’s been 2 years. I’m a slow writer and artist and well- many things have come up in my life that had to come first, like my sisters wedding! 💞 and college 😅)

I want to thank my family and friends (WHO DO NOT READ THIS COMIC- THANK GOD) 💕 AND I want to THANK YOU! The readers! 💐💐

You guys are relentless! I’m as impatient as traffic and yet you guys wait for weeks or months at a time for like 4 pages?! You guys don’t even complain!!! I truly want to thank you all for that ❤️ it helps me so much. Being busy and getting burnt out are common and it helps me feel relaxed that i'm not on a timer. Literally tho- you guys keep this comic chugging I swear. Tysm 💐

Unorganized rambling about the comic ahead :) ⭐️🔥

—

My feelings with this comic are actually so complicated. On one hand I hate looking at my older art because GOD IT LOOKS SO OFF I want to stab it, and then on the other hand I am so so proud of myself for even continuing it this far. Ngl the weird route has been one of my favorite parts of this comic. It took me FOREVER to figure out an ending, but damn do I still get chills >:) hehe.

I’m still miffed that I named this project “Deltarune: The Chara Timeline” I could have gone for something so much COOLER. Doesn’t help I use like 7 different titles for it either. We got Deltarune the Chara timeline, Deltarune chara timeline, THE Chara timeline, chara timeline, Ct??? Man,,, I’m crazy. I take after my family so hard. We have 3 names for each of our dogs 💀.

Comic/Animation Tip i have learned. It is VERY GOOD to make the character relatively simple in design. Shape language is also super important, ((but I never really got around to doing that before I was half way through the comic, woops.)) These things can make ur process go by so much faster. This whole comic has been a HUGE learning curve. LIKE OH MY GOD. I had to learn how to draw backgrounds, write dialogue, plan a story, learn how to draw fast and draw noses (which god damn I really still can’t). And I had to learn how the heck to squeeze art into a tiny page and make it not look grainy. It's intense!

Anyways.... this has been such an awesome opportunity! Thanks Toby Fox!

I totally ran out of “art time” for my iPad and wanted to finish this today. So it’s a bit rushed. I’ll add weapons and possibly the other characters later :)

Oh shi- I forgot to add this grainy image of the next few pages lmao

#chara is literally built like a rectangle. idk why ive never noticed that #a thick greenbean #and Asriel is kinda half and half when it comes to standing on his toes or regular foot. He has a more top heavy approach to his balance #bread #undertale #deltarune chara timeline #my art #chara #asriel #character sheets #character references #art #deltarune #happy 2 year anniversary!!!!#college chara #college asriel #darkworld

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tasteleeknow · 2 years

Text

º.☆・ ⇢ HURT/COMFORT WITH SKZ

genre: fluff, angst. content warnings: insecurities, depression, jealousy, fear of the dark, accidental injury, minor illness, alcohol use, driving anxiety word count: 4.6k (500 each)

a/n: my first ot8 post as a little thank you for 2k! i appreciate you so much both for reading and leaving feedback. hope you enjoy this too!

CHAN — his insecurities are getting to him

“But…you said we could go today…” you mutter, struggling to keep the disappointment from your voice. You’d been looking forward to this day all week. Your boyfriend had promised you’d finally go to the art exhibition in the city. It would be ending soon and then it would be gone forever.

Your boyfriend looks up from where he is hunched over his desk, where he had been scribbling something in a notebook. “I just can’t today.”

“Is it work?”

He looks back at the paper, pen halted. “No.”

“What’s so important that it has to be done today?”

“Go with Hyunjin instead.”

You take a step back, caught off guard. “What?”

“Hyunjin likes art, I’m sure he’d be stoked to go with you.”

You instinctively look down at your phone, having just texted your roommate minutes earlier. “Yeah, he probably would. But I want to go with you.”

Chan stands from his desk, keeping his back to you. You watch as he fiddles with his pen for a moment before dropping it and finally turning to face you. “Do you really?”

You frown, walking over to him and adjusting his necklace where it had twisted around his neck. “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I want to do something with my boyfriend?”

He’s quiet for a moment.. Most of the time he just speaks, letting whatever he was thinking out—no filters or barriers. You loved him for it, for speaking his mind so freely. These moments when he was clearly preparing his words before voicing them are rare, so you wait. You wait, knowing he was taking a moment to gather his thoughts and that any interruption would throw him off track.

“Do you ever wonder if someone else would be better for you? If we don’t…click as well as we should?” he finally says, eyes cast down.

You drop your hands from his necklace, the one you’d gifted for his previous birthday. “No,” you answer without hesitation. “Do you?”

“Can you…think about it for a moment… before answering. It’s important.”

“I don’t need to think about it. I’m being honest. I’ve never wondered that and I’ve never had any doubts about you. About us.” You watch as his brows draw together, clearly lost in thought again. “Have you?” you ask him again.

“I wonder…if someone like Hyunjin might make you happier.”

You glance at the desk, where the notebook lays open—his scribbled handwriting filling the page. “Have you been feeling bad again?” you ask.

He looks over his shoulder, following your eyeline. He takes a step back to close the book. You step up to him, trailing your hand up his chest to rest over his heart. “It’s okay, I wasn’t trying to read it. I just…want you to tell me when you’re feeling bad. So I can be here for you.”

He takes a step away from you, your hand dropping from his chest. “But that’s the problem. I’m always having these episodes; days where I don’t want to leave the house or where I feel so low I feel like I bring you down with me.”

“Why are you writing?” you ask, a flicker of panic crossing his face at your question. “I’m not asking what you’re writing. Just why you’re doing it.”

“Because…it…makes it better. Helps.”

“You’re working on it. You’re doing things you’ve been taught will help you get better and that’s why it’s not a problem. You love me and I love you and we are working on ways to be better people because we love each other. Right?”

“I do… want to be better for you,” he says, pressing his own hand over his heart.

“And for you?”

A small smile crosses his lips. “And for me.”

You match his smile, stepping close so you can wrap your arms around him. “I love you now and I’ll love you when you love yourself too.” His arms tighten around you. “I can’t wait,” you finish.

MINHO — you’re afraid of the dark

“400,” you announce, grinning at your boyfriend across the table.

A grumble of thunder distracts his attention to the window behind you before he looks at you again. “Why the fuck is it 400?”

“I own all 4,” you say, pointing to your monopoly cards.

“This game is stupid.”

“It was invented as a critique of landlords and capitalism, it’s meant to be stupid.”

“Be a nice landlord and give me a free pass.”

“No. Pay up.”

He grumbles, slapping the money in your palm just as your apartment goes dark. You yelp, dropping the paper money and reaching blindly across the table until you feel your boyfriends arm.

“Blackout,” he says, stating the obvious. He stands from the table before you have a proper grip, leaving you stranded. You stand, feeling around the table for him.

“Where are you? Minho?”

“Just getting my phone,” he replies, already sounding much too far away.

You reach out into the darkness, relying purely on your memory of your apartment to navigate. “Come back, please. Minho! Please.”

“Boo,” he whispers, right at your side. You grip his arm, too relieved to be mad at him for attempting to make you jump. The screen from his phone lights up his face, then he turns on his torch.

“I’m gonna find some candles, you wanna stay here?”

“No.”

“I can get your phone? Won’t be dark.”

“Wanna come.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Poor baby.”

“Shut up.”

You keep your arm on his as he leads you through to the kitchen, standing right by him as he crouches down to dig through a drawer. You hold the torch for him until he stands, holding a few candles and a matchbox.

“Where do you wanna set up camp? Are we finishing the game?”

You shake your head.

“Bath?” he suggests.

“In the dark?”

He holds the candles up. “Come on.”

He leads you to the bathroom and you’re forced to let go of him as he sets up the candles and leans into the tub to turn the water on. You turn to look behind you occasionally, the pitch black hallway making you feel uneasy.

Minho’s breath tickles your neck as he comes to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Would you like help?” he asks, fingers moving to fiddle with the buttons on your jeans.

You look up at the dark doorway. “Could you... shut that?”

He kisses your cheek then moves around you to shut the door as you pull your clothes off. The room is barely lit, the reflection of the candles in the mirror making the small bathroom seem much bigger. He pulls his shirt over his head as he approaches you.

“You’re alright, I’ve got you. Yeah?” You nod and he leans around you to turn the water off. “Hop in.”

You lower yourself into the warm water, watching as your boyfriend removes the rest of his clothes. You shuffle aside to make room as he joins you, lying back so his head rests on the soft neck rest you’d bought him for christmas. He hold his arms up, beckoning you onto him. “C’mere.”

You climb over him, pressing your chest against his and resting your head on his shoulder—just above the waterline. His arms wrap around you.

“Good?” he asks.

You close your eyes, surrounded by warmth. The darkness feels far away. “Mm, good.”

CHANGBIN — he accidentally hurts you

It was an old injury, so old you’d only ever mentioned it in passing once. You’d get a twinge in your wrist occasionally but apart from that, you practically forgot about it yourself. That’s why when your boyfriend challenges you to an arm wrestle, you don’t hesitate to say yes. You were equally competitive, you challenged each other to silly little games constantly.

“You’re not gonna let me win?”

“Have I ever?”

“Fair.” You settle yourself over the counter, opposite him. He presses his palm to the smooth surface, offering an example for you to mirror. He grasps your hand in his, pulling you over the counter a little more so he can press a kiss to the back of your hand. “Ok, ready,” he says, allowing you to resume your starting position.

“What’s that?” you ask, pointing over his shoulder with your free hand. As soon as he turns his head you start, pulling with all your strength. You manage to get him halfway down to the counter before he stops you, easily turning the tables. He puts more strength into it than he needs to, thrown off by your headstart. A sharp pain runs up your arm as your hand slams into the counter.

You pull your hand back to your chest, cradling it against your body as you scrunch your eyes shut—waiting for the pain to dull. It’ll pass, it’ll pass… you repeat to yourself. A soft touch on your shoulder alerts you to the fact Changbin has moved around the counter to your side. “Just a sec,” you mutter, unable to speak properly until the pain has dulled.

“Let me see,” he says, sounding stoic. He sounds so calm that you’re completely caught off guard when you look up at him and see his eyes watery. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen him cry. It’s so shocking it distracts you entirely from the now dull wrist pain.

You let him lift your hand gently as you watch his face. “Can you move it?” he says, inspecting your skin as if tracking down the source of your pain would remedy it.

“Yeah, it’s fine. It’s just that old injury flaring up.” You pull your hand from him easily, the hold he has on you so gentle it offers no resistance.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

You lift his chin with your fingers, his gaze pointed towards the floor. “Was just karma for trying to cheat,” you say, a small smile on your face as you attempt to lighten the mood.

It doesn’t work, your boyfriend's eyes fix on your wrist—his eyes reminding you of a kicked puppy. You give him no warning when you jump on him, wrapping your legs around his waist. His hands come to support you naturally, a reflexive response to the way you’d greet him every day.

“Wasn’t your fault,” you mumble against his neck. “I’d forgotten about it too, honestly. S’okay.”

“Does it still hurt?”

You pull back from him enough to hold the inside of your wrist up to his mouth. His eyes flick between yours, confused for a moment. Then he brings his lips to your skin, pressing a soft kiss to your wrist.

“Not anymore,” you whisper, offering him a small smile before replacing your wrist with your lips—pressing lightly against his.

HYUNJIN — he thinks you don’t love him as much as he loves you

Your boyfriend was a hopeless romantic. You loved that about him, truly. The only problem was when you felt like you struggled to meet his expectations; when you didn’t express your love in a way that fit with his love language. He would wilt.

“Jinnie? Please talk to me,” you encourage, lifting the blanket from your boyfriend's head. He rolls over to face the wall, ignoring you. You sigh, lying down next to him—resting your hands under your head as you stare at his back.

“It’s okay,” he says, still facing the wall. “I love you more than you love me, I just have to…accept it.”

You reach to grab his shoulder, forcing him to roll onto his back so you can crawl over him. You stroke his forehead gently, brushing away a non-existent lock of hair—a habit you hadn’t yet abandoned since he’d cut his hair short. “Stop saying that, it hurts me.”

His brows pull together as his plush lips press together firmly. “You said you needed space.”

“Yes, that is what I said. I didn’t say ‘I love you less than you love me’.”

He looks confused but he shifts a little, bringing his hands up to rest against your thighs. “I’ve never wanted space from you. I want you always.”

His cheeks are rosy and you can’t help brushing your thumbs across them, cradling his face in your hands. “If I had to see anyone else as much as I see you, I’d lose my mind. It’s because I love you so much that I ask for my own space so rarely,” you finish.

“Do I bother you? Is that why you asked?”

“Sometimes anything external irritates me. Anything. My clothes on my skin, a notification on my phone. I just need to be alone sometimes, completely. No notifications, no sound, no other person. Even you. Even though you’re my favourite person ever.”

“Ever?”

“Ever, ever,” you smile, moving one of your thumbs to brush over his lips. You pull his bottom lip down gently, he’s much more relaxed now. “We are different people, hm? It’d be boring if we were exactly the same.”

“Mm,” he agrees, pulling you down against him. You rest your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heart as you rise and fall gently with his breath. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Sometimes…I get…scared that you could never feel…as much as I do. So one day you’ll just…have had enough of me and because I know that won’t happen for me…it feels like…a clock is ticking down.”

“You have to trust me. If you really love me, you’ll trust me when I tell you how I feel. I promise I’ll always be honest, hm?”

“Yeah,” he says, the vibration of his voice in his chest against your ear.

“I promise I love you,” you say, lifting your head to whisper against his lips.

“I promise I love you, too.”

JISUNG — takes care of you when you’re drunk

You stumble up the steps, fiddling with your keys as your friend drives away. You drop them just as the door opens, stumbling forward into Jisungs arms as you lose your balance trying to bend down. He catches you, holding you upright until you're steady. Then he bends down, snatching the keys and poking his head out to look down the street.

“Where’s your friend?”

You smile. “Left.”

He frowns. “Before I opened the door?”

You reach out to stroke his hair. “You look so cute when you’re worried.” You kick your shoes off, stumbling into your apartment until you find the couch. “What time is it?” you mumble, struggling not to fall sideways and sleep right there in the living room.

Your roommate drops the keys in the little box near the door before following you, dropping to his knees at your feet. You reach to pet his head again. “You’re a good friend,” you slur, giggling when he frowns. He lets you pull the corners of his mouth up into a smile then he stands, holding his hand out to help you up.

“Bed,” he says, grunting a little as he pulls you up—your legs practically jelly. You fall into his arms, resting your head on his shoulder. You almost fall asleep just trying to walk to your room, collapsing onto your bed the second Jisung releases you. You close your eyes, drifting in and out of consciousness as Jisung moves around the room.

He’s leaning over you, trying to touch your face. “Sleep,” you mumble, attempting to push his hand away. He holds your hand down on the bed.

“Just let me clean this off, yeah?” he says, attempting to wipe the makeup off your face. You relent, going limp to let him work.

“Sungie?”

“Mm?”

“You’re a good friend.”

“You’re completely off your head,” he laughs. “Will you remember this tomorrow?”

“Maaaybe.”

“Maybe,” he repeats, the cloth against your face halting for a moment. “Did you…meet anyone tonight?” he asks, resuming his makeup removal service.

“My friends,” you mumble.

“I meant…ya know…like flirted with anyone.”

You giggle, reaching for Jisung’s arm. “Do you flirt, Sungie?”

“No.”

“Whyy?”

“There’s no one I want to flirt with.”

You pout, sitting up and squishing his cheeks between your fingers. “That’s sad, poor Sungie.”

“I’m not sad. I’m happy.”

“You are?”

He reaches up to smooth down your hair. “Mm. I'm happy if you’re happy.”

“What if I’m sad?”

“Then I’ll find what’s making you sad and take it away.”

“You’re a good friend,” you yawn, falling back down onto your pillows. He leans down to press a kiss to your head. You reach out to grab his hand as he stands to leave. “Sungie?”

“Yes?”

“Am I a good friend?”

“You’re a good everything.”

“...a good everything?” you mumble through another yawn, closing your eyes as Jisung intertwines your fingers.

“Mm. You’re everything.”

FELIX — you’re burnt out from uni/work

“What do you want for dinner?” your boyfriend asks gently. He’d been overly gentle with you all day, treating you like a cornered kitten. You loved him, but every question he asked you was wearing away at you. He’d suggested going to your favourite park, the colourful flowers and gentle breeze often did your mindset wonders. You didn’t want to get dressed. He’d put on your comfort film, the background noise was nice—but not enough to distract you from the heavyweight in your chest.

“I don’t care.”

“Pizza?” he asks, knowing it was your favourite—your go-to option when you were feeling low. You say nothing, closing your eyes and resting your head back against the couch.

“Wanna go for a drive and pick it up?” Felix asks, making the decision for you.

“No.”

His gentle fingers trace across your knuckles, where you are gripping a pillow to your chest. You relax your grip.

“I’ll order then,” he says, sounding a little dejected. You lift your head. It feels heavy on your neck. You fall into your boyfriend's lap, head resting against his thighs.

“Thank you,” you whisper. His free hands come to your hair, stroking the strands gently just above your ear.

“Anything you need?”

“Just you,” you answer, closing your eyes again. The sound of the tv is the only noise in the room for the next 20 minutes, your boyfriend's fingers continuing their gentle ministrations in your hair.

When the doorbell rings he lifts your head gently, replacing his lap with a pillow so he can answer the door. He’s gone not even a minute. That’s all the time you need for your eyes to fill with tears, suddenly completely overwhelmed. He places the pizza on the table then kneels by your side.

“Okay?”

You open your mouth to speak, unable to get anything past your lips but an ugly sob. He jumps into action, lifting your head so he can resume his position on the couch. You press your face to his legs for a moment before lifting yourself to climb into his lap, wrapping yourself around him. “So tired,” you sob, his hand stroking up and down your back.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry. I wish—I wish I could take it away.”

“Don’t—” you heave in a breath, already struggling to breathe through your uncontrollable sobbing. “Don’t leave.”

“Shhh. Not going anywhere, promise. Right here…just breathe.” His voice wobbles a little, prompting you to pull back to look at his face. “Breathe for me,” he finishes. His eyes are watery to match yours, his cheeks already wet from where his tears had spilled over.

You bring your hands to his cheeks, attempting to wipe them away. “Please don’t cry,” you sob.

He huffs out a laugh through his tears. “You cried first.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

His eyes soften, pulling your head back down to rest on his shoulder. “I know.” He lets you cry into his shoulder until your head hurts, finally lifting you from his lap so he can bring you a box of tissues. He takes one for himself. You take in the scene you both make, blowing your noses as your pizza sits cold on the coffee table.

Felix looks up at you, his nose bright red. You burst into laughter, leaning forward to wrap your arms around his neck again. “What’s funny?” he asks between sniffles.

“Just love you.”

SEUNGMIN — he comes home to find you sick

You’re faintly aware of a knock at the door, too unwell to even consider getting up to answer it. Instead you groan as you roll over, reaching for the bottle of water on the ground by the couch. You struggle to sit up, lifting your head just enough to sip from the lip of the bottle. The door opens just as you look across the room longingly at the fan, wishing you had the energy to turn it on and drag it over to blow directly in your face.

“Oh, you’re home. Why didn’t you—” your boyfriend pauses, taking in your sweaty form sprawled out on the couch. “What’s wrong?”

You’re suddenly overwhelmed, the exhaustion from looking after yourself all day catching up with you. You reach out towards him as your face crumbles, a sob escaping your throat. You don’t see him approach you, your eyes squeezed closed as you feel his arms wrap around you. He pulls you into his lap, guiding your head to his shoulder.

“You’re sick? Why didn’t you call?”

“You were busy,” you gasp between sobs.

He’s quiet, letting you gather yourself. It doesn’t take long, you don’t have the energy to cry. When you’re quiet he speaks again. “What do you need?”

“Don’t wanna be sick anymore,” you whine, knowing he couldn’t actually take it away but feeling much like you did as a child—begging your mum to make it stop.

“I know,” he says, palm rubbing up and down your back. “What else do you need?”

“Sleep.”

He stands, lifting you with him. Your legs dangle, too tired to cling to him like you usually do. He lowers your legs to the ground briefly so he can hook his arm under your legs and lift you properly. You wrap your arms around his neck weakly, relying on him entirely to hold you against him.

“Should’ve called,” he mutters, turning to manoeuvre through your bedroom doorway. He lowers you gently to the bed then disappears into your ensuite bathroom. You close your eyes, a small pained sound escaping your throat.

A cold cloth presses against your forehead and your eyes flutter open to take in the worried face of your boyfriend. “Have you taken anything?” he asks.

“This morning.”

He stands quickly, leaving the room without a word. When he returns he’s carrying a bottle of water and a small cup. “Swallow these,” he instructs, sitting down at the edge of the bed so he can help you sit. You do what he says, swallowing each tablet individually with a mouthful of water.

He places his hand at the back of your head to lower you back against the pillow. “Sleep.”

“Can’t sleep without you,” you mutter. He pulls his shirt over his head then crawls up next to you, wrapping his arm around you so he can pull you into him. “Do you think it’ll be gone when I wake?” you ask, trying to focus on the warm pressure of his body against your back.

“Definitely,” he answers, sounding completely sure of himself. You close your eyes as his lips press to your neck, drifting out of consciousness almost immediately.

JEONGIN — you panic while learning to drive

You’d been putting it off for years, the anxiety of learning to drive completely overwhelming. It wasn’t until your boyfriend offered to teach you that you finally worked up the courage. He made everything enjoyable, every grocery trip felt like a fun day out if you were with him.

“You’re ready to go out on the street,” he encourages again as your hands grip the wheel tightly. You’d only managed driving around an empty carpark so far. It was late on a Tuesday night, the streets were practically empty.

“I…don’t think I am.”

“I know you are.”

You turn to look at your boyfriend, his eyes shining behind his round glasses. You suck in a deep breath, attempting to loosen your grip on the wheel a little. You ease your foot off the break, rolling forward slightly before pressing the accelerator down slowly. Jeongin is quiet next to you, patient as always.

When you reach the exit you slam the breaks on, suddenly panicked by the open road ahead of you. “We’re going left,” your boyfriend says, still sounding totally calm and confident.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

“I can’t, I really can’t.”

He rests his hand on your thigh. “Baby? Hey,” You take one hand off the wheel to grasp his hand. “You got it,” he finishes.

Your heart races in your chest as you grip the wheel with both hands again, a shiver running through your body. Jeongin talks to you as you turn out into the street, giving you calm instructions and gentle encouragement. It isn’t until a car pulls out and follows directly behind you that you start to really panic, their headlights shining directly into the car.

“The car,” you mutter, panic evident in your voice.

“Ignore them,” your boyfriend says. “You can turn left at the next street.” Your eyes keep flicking to the rear view mirror, another shiver running through your body. Then they honk and you break too fast, swerving to pull up the side of the road. The car honks again as they speed past you, leaving you gasping for breath as you try to stay calm.

A hand gently rests over yours and you look up to the man sitting in the passenger seat. He pulls his hoodie over his head. “Want me to take over?” he asks. You nod, pulling the handbrake on and stepping out of the car.

He meets you half-way around the car, pulling his soft hoodie over your head and helping you push your arms through the sleeves. He’d often give you an item of his clothing when you were anxious, the smell of him close to you calming your nerves. The fabric is soft against your skin and you press the sleeve to your face as you climb into the passenger seat.

You’re both quiet as your boyfriend drives, your heart slowing back to a normal rate as you watch the world go by. It isn’t until the car pulls into an unfamiliar car park that you realise you haven’t been heading home. Jeongin presses a button to open the sunroof then turns the engine off. He gestures to the back seat and you climb over the centre console, your boyfriend following close behind.

He lays himself across the back seat and holds his arms open, beckoning you to join him. You press yourself against him, head resting against his shoulder—his arms around you prevent you from falling off the seats. You have a perfect view up to the clear night sky, your boyfriend's soft breath tickling your skin.

“You did well,” he says, breaking the silence finally.

You huff. “I freaked out.”

“You overcame your fear and drove on the roads,” he presses his lips to your temple. “Proud of you,” he mumbles against your skin.

a/n: some of these are snippets from longer wips! may be seen again in longer form in the future...

please reblog and share your thoughts. caption, tags, replies, or ask box, i read it all. feedback is what motivates me to write more!

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hyunnie04 · 2 months

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muse

hwang hyunjin x reader, fluff | m.list

wc: 2.1k

synopsis: you can't decide what to give hyunjin for his birthday. a/n: very self indulgent theme/fic!! i like to draw myself so i thought i'd write about it for his birthday :> i apologize for being a bit late, irl obligations have been kicking my ass lately i'm sorry my hyune but i hope you guys like it! T-T

march was a month full of new beginnings. the year was only starting, january and february flying by like a breeze. remnants of winter still clung in the air and on the branches of the trees, pillowing them with the softness of white snow. it was also getting warmer, the chill no longer having its harsh bite and welcoming the inevitable pinks and greens of spring to come. and for you, new beginnings also meant taking on projects that you never thought you would be able to do.

hyunjin's birthday was only a few days away, just a little less than a week from now.

you've spent the entire afternoon in a panic after the realization, racking your brain for any ideas, thinking what you could possibly do for his present only to come up empty handed. buying a gift for him is certainly the easier option and there was absolutely nothing wrong with it, seeing as hyunjin was the type of person to appreciate whatever you give him, be it big or small, expensive or not. it was just the matter of wanting to surprise him with a gift that he most likely doesn’t already have.

you sigh and rest your head on the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling in thought. your eyes silently wander towards the painting that hung on the wall of your tiny apartment.

it was painted by hyunjin himself, a bouquet of your favorite flowers that he had given you for your own birthday. you always loved staring at it, earning a place in your favorite corner of the room.

you often stare at it, delving into the intricacies of each brush stroke, how the colors come together in harmony, the symbolism and sentimentality behind it all, and just how much love was poured into making it. hyunjin truly had a talent in capturing the likeness and essence of his subjects, even the simplest ones.

it was almost tradition, how he makes his closest family and friends paintings when it was their birthday or when there was a special occasion. he used his oil paints that you've become familiar with, the dozens of tubes and pots of color messily strewn all across his little studio back at his dorm.

it was a such thoughtful gesture, painting that was. taking his time out of his day to make something out of nothing, showing that he truly cared about the person. whenever you would visit him on his days off, he was always immersed in his craft. adept fingers swiping over charcoal, hands dipping into paint, a sight you always love seeing. you still remember the photo you took secretly of him in his studio, blissfully painting the night away.

you drum your hands on the arm rest, returning to brainstorm for ideas, still in deep thought. and then it all suddenly clicked.

you have always admired hyunjin and his work, so why not make him one in return?

he was always giving others gorgeous pieces of art, he certainly deserved to have his own. you were no picasso and certainly no hyunjin, but the act of gift giving has always been your favorite way of showing your love.

you had a basic grasp of how the medium was used, having watched hyunjin more than enough times. the techniques he had taught you during one of your art sessions together might come in handy as well. the one and only problem was that it left you with such little time to finish it. oh well, it was better to start late than never.

the next day, you picked up and gathered the necessary materials from the art supply shop you knew hyunjin frequented, recognizing the different kinds of paints, sizes and types of canvases, and brushes that he likes to use. you laid them out on your living room floor upon arriving home, finally starting on your little project.

the remainder of the days leading up to his birthday were spent awake during ungodly hours into the night, full of endless trials and errors, scrapped ideas and tons of caffeine. your living room became your makeshift studio, a tarp laid down the center to catch the unavoidable mess you surely would be making. learning a completely different and unfamiliar medium from what you were used to was difficult, but you were determined and your mind was set.

hyunjin was getting worried. it had been a few days since he last saw you, nonetheless heard anything. he understood that the two of you were quite busy people, not always finding the time to talk. but after five missed calls and maybe a dozen texts over the span of two days and no reply? he was ill at ease.

maybe he was overreacting, but he knew that you would've at least sent something to acknowledge his texts. he decided to ask his friends about your whereabouts, asking if anyone had contact with you, only earning head shakes in return.

"have you tried going to their place?" chan asks the ravenette, leaning his back on the dance practice room’s mirrored walls. hyunjin huffs, mouth forming into a slight pout, shaking his head no. practice was getting more challenging as the comeback and schedules started to pile up, his attendance becoming crucial.

"you can go later, we don't have anything scheduled for tomorrow." his hyung removes his cap, fluffing his curls underneath. hyunjin breathes out a sigh of relief, sending him a quick thank you.

the older of the two nods in understanding, reaching a hand out to hyunjin upon standing on his feet. back to practice they went.

it was the night before his birthday. getting stubborn paint off your brushes was the worst, is what you've learned these past several days of non-stop painting. even with the appropriate solvent, the paint can and is still clinging stubbornly onto its fibers; leaving you in the bathroom sink to scrub them tediously under soap and some warm water.

your hands start to ache with all the scrubbing, perhaps growing tired as well from the painting, but you'd like to think that the momentary pain was worth it. the composition of it was finally starting to come together. the work flow became easier once you figured out a concept and a theme you were happy with, inspiration and motivation coming in effortlessly now. it only needed some last few touches, you could only hope he would like it as much as you ended up liking it too.

after the brushes were cleaned to the best of your abilities, you pat them dry, leaving them on the counter for the time being.

"y/n? are you home?" your hands still at the sound of the front door opening. it was undeniably hyunjin's voice.

you and hyunjin lived apart despite dating for quite a long while. it was a mutual agreement that it would be more convenient for the two of you to live separately, his job requiring him to live closer to his place of work. you gave him a spare key so he could come by whenever he liked, but you didn’t expect him at all to drop by today.

you originally thought nothing of it for a moment, even brushing it off. but then the panic started to set in. he would see it right away, the canvas sitting right in front of the living room with no cloth to cover it. if you go out now, you might have a chance of covering it up before he finds out.

rushing out of the bathroom after wiping your hands dry, you've quickly noticed how it had suddenly gone quiet. you peak around the corner, seeing him standing idly in the middle of your living room, still unaware of your presence.

it was too late. you see the familiar ebony locks greet you upon arriving. his mouth practically hanging open as he stares at the easel facing him, winter coat slung heavily on his left arm.

"surprise?" you flush upon seeing his head whip towards your figure, leaned against the arch of the doorway. it was also a little embarrassing, not having the time to clean up.

"is...that me?" he says in quiet disbelief. you can’t quite decipher if his reaction was good or bad but you nod, coming up to stand beside him. he stares at the canvas once more, no doubt taking in the details of it. you start to feel a little anxious under his gaze, silently wondering if he likes it.

"it's not done yet, that's why it looks a little rough." you pause, hesitation lacing your voice. he would eventually find out, having already seen it. “it was supposed to be your surprise birthday present.” is what you ended up saying, speech meek and low, barely audible.

his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as he turns his eyes back to you. a noticeable redness staining his cheeks.

“wow,” he breathes out, tilting his head closer to gaze on the finer details. hyunjin pauses for a moment before replying. “this is beautiful.” his voice light, feathery. his fingertips, slender and lithe, hovering above as if to trace it. relief washed over you hearing him say it, your nerves easing and cheeks warming in return.

“you think so?” you purse your lips before smiling gratefully at him, noting the masking tape still plastered on its borders and small parts of it still unblended but thank him earnestly nonetheless.

“i figured since you always make people art on their birthday," you took to move to the couch, the ache in your body starting to take its toll. "i thought i'd give back and make you one too."

hyunjin was, in short- moved. the portrait was of him sitting in his art studio, the sun falling and spilling on his form peaking through the windows. although his elegantly curved back was turned and it was impossible to see his face, it was unmistakable that it was him.

he was truly not expecting anything, he was just happy with the prospect of just being with you on his special day. the thoughtfulness, sentimentality, and affection that came with making gifts with him in mind, he didn’t think it was possible to love you more than he already did. his eyes are lost in yours, the contours of his handsome face highlighted by the dim lights of your living room.

“i know it's bad but-”

hyunjin doesn’t let you continue, pulling you into a sudden kiss, throwing his coat on the couch haphazardly. your immediate response was to wrap your hands around his neck, hands wandering up and towards his hair. you could feel his smile on his mouth as he kisses you, grabbing the nape of your neck to steady your form. the kiss is intoxicating, feeling the love upon his soft movements, his warmth contrasting the chill from outside.

when he parts from you, he’s giddy, and jumping around like the happiest ferret you’ve ever seen. the wisps of hair fall to his temple, framing his beautiful face. “thank you, darling.”

“even if it’s not done yet- i love it,” he presses another kiss to the side of your mouth. “so much.” you could only laugh in response, completely flustered and enamored by his reaction.

hyunjin pulls you towards his chest, both arms locking around your shoulders. you could smell the perfume he always likes to wear. “is this why you weren’t picking up your phone?”

“my phone?” you pat your pockets in search, only to find it missing. your mind must’ve slid away, not knowing at all where it was but you could search for it later. “oh, yeah. m’ sorry.” the apology is muffled by the fabric of his shirt. he hums, his worries fading. you thought he was going to let you go, but he retaliates by resuming to press more kisses into you.

“okay, okay! thank you. i’m glad you like it.” you untangle his long arms from your body in order to stand up while hyunjin watches you do so, curiosity in his eyes. you already miss the warmth he radiated.

“but, technically-” you start by grabbing the easel and placing it near the wall and out of his view, grabbing the stray tubes of paint off the floor and putting them away in their basket. “it’s still not your birthday.”

his plump lips form into a pout as he continues to watch you clean up. “and i’m not quite done with it yet so you have to wait.” placing a quick ‘boop’ to his nose, you head to the bathroom to freshen up for bed.

hyunjin checks his wrist watch as he follows you suit, his white teeth poking out. his arms catch you once again, wrapping you from behind. "it's 12."

amused by his antics, you let out another laugh before turning around in his hold to face him again, pressing a kiss on his soft lips.”in that case, i’ill finish it as soon as possible and-”

"happy birthday, my dearest."

please reblog or leave a comment if you like my work! it motivates me to keep writing ♡ all works are written by hyunnie04, please do not repost on other sites.

#hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin imagines #skz scenarios #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #skz fluff #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids fluff

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blueparadis · 1 year

Text

❝ HAUNTED ❞ + XAVIER THORPE !

+. CWs —» f!reader, switch!reader, outcast!reader, fluff, she/her pronouns, mutual pining, sexual tension, family drama, flirting, manipulation, mentions of abuse, blood, wounds & therapy, flashbacks in italics, supernatural themes ; explicit smut, s & d dynamics, bottom-dom!xavier, cowgirl position; word count-3.5k

+. PRECIS —» Xavier Thorpe has finally found the girl of his dreams after being haunted by her.

+. NOTES —» this is for my beloved sister @zoraedits ’s brainrot contribution.she won't stop making edits on him. && I'm tagging @orchid3a cuz i luv u

you can browse more of my works here. || also available in AO(III). reblogs and comments are very much appreciated.

feel free to send in thirsts and suggestions for this show, Wednesday. This is my first time writing for shows like this; my main fandom spectrum is animanga but I do hope this was a good read for ya’all as much as I enjoyed writing it. <3.

The table calendar was full of red inks all over, dirt sedimented on the sketchbook, and the pencils laid in the case in absolute solitude. Xavier looked at the calendar kept on his desk near his bed in all despondency and a heavy sigh escaped from his lips. It has been days since he stepped into his studio, have not touched his art accessories for almost a month. One thing was for sure, he was plagued by visions in his dreams but this time it was nothing demising.

This time his sketchbooks were not filled by a monster, this time he was not afraid to draw rather he was drawn to it; part of him was stoked while sketching while a part of him was reluctant to draw the whole picture. He had spent countless sleepless nights before, not resorting to sleeping as he was threatened by nightmares. And now his sleep was peaceful as if entering into the realm of dreamland.

Xavier was sure that his mind was captured by a girl who came to visit him in his sleep, never showing her face, only showing herself in bits and pieces. He had spent his childhood receiving showers of praise for his talent for drawing but the origin was never happy. Of course, he enjoyed it and liked to show off his talent for art but secretly he wished his power would vanish into oblivion, for it was never pleasant.

People say that the art of someone reflects one’s persona, one’s raw feelings but Xavier always begged to differ since those memories, those incidents were never his. There always had been a wave of remorse that washed over him after he stepped out of his art studio since the praises he received never belonged to him.

Many were astoundingly taken aback by his knack for drawing and suggested he pursue art, to be a renowned artist but he knew he would lose all the glory once he stopped having those dreams. Moreover, he did not always have such dreams so the possibility of waking up one day and being unable to paint and as a result, staring at a blank canvas scared him to death. Heck! He even considered going to Doctor Kinbott so that his sanity would not be hanging by thread.

For the last couple of weeks, he has been dreaming of odd landscapes. Xavier had never seen them in his life yet he saw how the dusky crimson hue smothered the snowy mountain ranges, how the clouds gathered before the arrival of a rainstorm, how the birds sang songs and all the owes and pangs of nature. One thing he could conclude from those dreams was that whoever it belonged to was a chaser of freedom, that is, was a soarer of the sky.

Xavier had not told anyone about his dreams, nor put them on paper to ease his mind. What would he tell? What would he draw? Last night was particularly odd concerning the regular pattern of his dreams. He dreamt of falling from a high cliff into the water and a broken wing. When he woke up, he was all soaked, even his bed, and his olfactory senses did not miss the subtle scent of stagnant water. He was breathing rashly as if he was the one who drowned as if he was the one to fall.

He closed his eyes and tried to recapitulate his dream, searching for a mark, searching for a recognizable feature, searching for something, anything, anything at all. His desperation knew no bounds when left his dorm and rushed into his studio in the middle of the night since somewhere at the corner of his hopeless heart he knew he found one, a ray of hope.

A lot of crumbled papers surrounded Xavier as he tried accumulating the pieces from his puzzled mind. Around two o’clock he left his studio on his bicycle, the paper where he drew tucked in his pocket. He was sure he had witnessed the scenery before unlike the others. When he finally reached the top of the highland, he witnessed the view from his most recent dream.

The only thing that engulfed his presence was the sound of the waterfall echoing through the woods. He noticed a pond nearby and an adjacent high plateau near it. It was higher from where he was standing. After looking around for a few minutes he figured that there was no way to go there unless one swam through the stream or flew toward it.

On his way back, he felt happy, he felt sane. At least he had proof of the existence of a creature that haunted him, even in his wake. Xavier showered before going to bed just to clear his head before a good night's sleep. He kept a white feather as a bookmark in his sketch pad while a smile smothered his face. He was right. He was haunted by a fairy-like creature.

“Two cappuccinos”, Xavier mumbled as he went back to the counter at Weathervane. It was another event where all the students of Nevermore set foot into the world of normies to carry on the ties between two polar opposite worlds. But no matter how much one tried, the other always tried to retaliate. Their relationship was always on a tightrope, it could snap at any moment. And it certainly did.

“And you did not bother to tell me about this. . .”, Principal Weems trailed off as she left her seat, walked past her desk, and inclined against it, “until everyone in town became aware of it.”

“I thought I was going to be called insane or bullied. Last time I told something about my dreams, I found myself behind the bars.”, he responded, keeping his eye on the ground. Principal Weems exhaled grudgingly. She had no grounds to punish this boy since he was not entirely wrong. Hence, Xavier was dismissed with mere detention.

Xavier was forbidden from the school campus for a week. Everyone felt sorry for him, in his situation but secretly he could not be happier because he had all the time to draw, sketch, paint and think — and it was all about her, y/n.

That day at the café, Xavier was the sole witness of a crime. It happened so quickly, so fast that all she could do was succumb to her fate. A man was standing near the corner of the kitchen with his back facing Xavier. Xavier was not supposed to be here but he had to fetch some ingredients for making pastries and cupcakes.

As the man turned around, Xavier saw a bloodied butcher's knife in his hand. Near his feet lay a girl with a bloodied back the blood quickly spread all over her blouse. She stood motionless, like a statue. The eye contact was merely for two seconds and he immediately smashed the sugar jar on his head, distracting him, to tackle her out of the way.

The other townies turned up for help. Not all people in the world came to be cruel and heartless. All Xavier did was contact Principal Weems so that she could swiftly take care of this matter, which she had to otherwise the reputation of the Nevermore Academy would be in danger. The girl was taken to a nearby hospital.

Y/n L/n was her name. After the untimely death of her parents, she was raised by her uncle, by a normal family. Naturally, when she began to bloom, she was forced to be normal. One would think she tried to run, tried to hide or fight but Alas! none was the case for this matter. She felt indebted to her uncle and his family, for taking care of her, aiding her upbringing, fulfilling the role of parents, and hence helping her to be normal. But Xavier's presence on that day turned her life upside down. She was now a student at Nevermore Academy, funded by Principal Weems’ study forum.

After you recovered within a week, the first thing that dawned on you was to meet him, Xavier, the ‘ hero ’ of your life. You knocked on the door of his studio and waited for a while. There was no answer for a few minutes and when you finally made up your mind to leave, Xavier showed up. He was in his casuals with a teeth-flashing grin on his face.

“How’re you, y/n? The last time I saw you, you were in a hospital bed and now you’re here. in front of me.”, Xavier danced on his toes as he walked into his studio. You followed him and the moment you stepped into his studio you were taken all in awe. The room was filled with artboards, canvases, and sketch supplies, and everything reflected you. Indeed, y/n did not come here to be thankful for what he did since she was not. She was not happy with how her life seemed so devoid of any family. Her uncle was the last of her family and now he is gone. All because of him, Xavier.

“You look better than the last time I saw you.”, Xavier added as he felt the silence between the two of you deafening. You swallowed hard as he tried to ease the tense ambiance thinking how rude of him to remind you of the very wound he was responsible for. There was a desk with a closed sketch pad that caught your attention.

“Your drawings are very beautiful.”, you pitched in opening it and your heart dropped at the sight of your feather that was kept safely in between those rusty pages. A short gasp escaped your lips as the whirlwind of your life hit you.

Xavier was standing behind you, close to your shivering body. “They are all about you.”, a low whisper before he extended his hand to remove the veil from the canvas. The cloth dropped at your feet revealing every bit of dreary in you that you always wanted to hide. You hated how he could see through your pangs and pathos, you hated how he could and would have eradicated all of it, even if it meant being burnt by it. You swiftly tackled out of his towering frame, feeling naked even though you were more dressed than him.

“Stay away from me. You shouldn’t come near me.”, Surprise took Xavier in all proportions. His eyebrows became congested as you continued. “I’m grateful that you saved me but do not do that again, ever.” With that, you walked out of his studio but a firm grip on your wrist kept you from running away anymore.

“Listen, I’m being haunted by you, your pain, your emotions, and everything you feel for the past few months, and all you could say to me was to stay away from you… not even a proper thank you.”, His breath hit your lips as he drew in a sharp breath before his amber eyes landed on you, your shaky lips and pale eyes.

Embarrassment rushed into your cheeks and you pushed him lightly uttering, “Stay away” with a little glare to ward him off but when you vanished out of his sight he was not dejected, not at all. Sure, he was conflicted but the way you told him to stay away whereas your body spoke otherwise made him relish the chase that has haunted him for months now.

They say one can only save people only if one wants to be saved. You neither needed help nor saving but you could see why Xavier begged to differ, wanted to be the odd one out, and craved the crown from saving you from your only family. You always had been a rebel since your childhood, going against the flow of the stream. Somewhere in the corner of your heart, you knew you were different, you would be different.

It was the end of June when you first felt your body ache, back arch, muscles cramping excruciatingly as if someone was poking needles in your skin. Your arms clung to your body as your back bled for the first time. The wailing of such lethal agony submerged amidst the sound of rain as two enormous wings grew with lustrous hues of carmine and amber. Your breathing became regular again, your body stopped hurting as the wings flapped open involuntarily. Every mark, scar, and wound on your body since you were a child began to heal, all by themselves.

Everyone rejoiced when you went through the family ritual and stood in front of your clan as the last phoenix of your bloodline. It was a miracle that a phoenix had been born in the bloodline but just like with blessings it came with a massive price. You were a healer and a destroyer at the same time. Somewhere something has to die to keep you alive, again and again. Every time you were wounded or hurt, your mother had to lose some of her life until she became lifeless, forever. But the family oracle told your father that it is a part of the process, part of a phoenix's journey that every one of their loved ones had to sacrifice in one way or another.

Your father just had a miraculous idea to save you and himself from the bottomless pit of despondency and mutual hatred lurking in his heart because of you. He volunteered to sacrifice himself even if that was against his will. The oracle seemed to be unsure about the idea, saying that the cycle might shorten but not cease. But your father was right, the cycle did cease and you became aware of it when your uncle tried to chop off your wings, uprooting the evil once and for all, and no one in your family was harmed. Still, unfortunately, you were under the radar of an outcast, Xavier Thorpe. ‘What would happen if someone not from your bloodline were to sacrifice? What would happen to your mate if they were not an outcast? What would. . . thoughts would not cease to bombard your mind until a knock disrupted your trail of thoughts.

You lifted your eyes for a glance only to find Xavier inclining against the bookshelf with a saccharine smile on his face. Your stomach turned at the sight of him. ‘How can a person be so forgiving?’ but it seems that he is rather forgetful than forgiving. He picked up a random book from the shelf and sat in front of you.

“You’re hurt. . .”, you murmured to which he responded, “more than you think . . .” while turning the pages of the book and occasionally stealing glances from you. You rolled your eyes and leaned towards the table eyeing his hands that had a lot of scratches. It was probably from a silly fight with other boys, maybe the normies; for him, it was just a scratch yet for you it was an opportunity to apologize for the other day.

“Give me your hand.” As you extended yours, Xavier's reflexively recoiled under the desk. “I’ve no intention of harming you.”, you uttered touching the palm of his other hand that was still on the desk. “Besides, I’m just clearing my debts.”

“Um-hm.”

You inhaled sharply before you flapped those lustrous enormous wings to heal with him, his wounds. Your wings glowed for almost a minute and the hand that was hurt was healed which he was hiding under the desk. It is impressive how Xavier hurt the very hand that can create masterpieces. What a clutz! He interlaces his fingers with yours as he murmured, “A touch . . . is all you need.”

You begrudgingly pulled your hand away standing up and yelling whisperingly, “stop it. stop this. . . and don’t come near me.” With that, you grabbed your book and went towards the exit of the library. Xavier sat like a child who would mourn for the broken toy rather than demand anew.

“Wait.”, Xavier followed you. He kept yelling in the middle of the corridor, “Y/n. wait.”

“Your wings.”, you finally turned your head but not without letting out a sigh of annoyance. “You’re hurt. . .bleeding” and that is when fear crawled underneath the skin.

“I never bleed.”, you retorted.

“And, I never lie.”

If it were someone else, you would have shooed them away. But this was Xavier, who saved you from an inevitable, to whom you owed nothing but the truth. Even though you tried to heal yourself you could not, perhaps because you healed someone and that too for the first time.

Xavier might be persistent but he was not dull. It didn't take him long to connect the dots and hence you had to do the very thing you wanted to avert from the first place. His room was not tidy but not neat and clean either. With Rowan gone he has the room all to himself. You wanted to go to the infirmary, but there wasn't anyone available. Besides, with all the mess you are in you didn't want to risk it.

“I promise I'll behave.”, he said, swinging his hands up in the air in a form of surrender. That made you smile a little as you turned around so that he could tend to the wound. He unzipped your dress and carefully tucked it along your waistline without harming the feathers. Even though you had your camisole on, you still felt naked. His fingers brushed against your skin. It was ice cold. You had to hold your breath as he dressed the wound.

Xavier noticed how your shoulder blades had been marked. He grazed his fingers over the part from where your wings grew that made you instantly shriek and move away from him.

“Are you done?”, you asked, surprise and embarrassment coursing through your skin. Your upper body was barely clad, nothing but an unhooked bra.

“No.”, and within a blink, his lips were already on yours. You could taste the longing and desperation with each suck. Your hands curled around his nape as his hands got rid of the minimal clothing from your upper body. “First time?”, he asked as he moved away leaving you breathless yet craving for more.

“Why? You care?”, you blurted out stepping out of your dress. Xavier eyed you from up and down. You did not flinch but rather smiled as you noticed his astonished face. You had nothing on but just the underwear.

“I do.”, one of his eyebrows jumped as he knelt near you. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”, he murmured grabbing your calf muscles and kissing your femininity over the cloth. He took a glance before tucking the hem of the panty in between his fingers and undid it. Your hand reflexively went over his head as he kissed your entrance, lapping over your pussy lips that made you suck in a sharp breath. He sucked on your skin, followed by a feeble bite into your inner thighs.

“AH!”, you winced pausing his ministrations. “Don’t you taste divine?”, he whispered kissing your lips, wetting them with the blend of his saliva and your slick. He was too dressed. You cocked an eyebrow at him and he took the hint. You co-operated as he became almost naked, and was back up even though you wanted him to continue.

“You won’t hurt me. worry for yourself.”, you said as you felt his hands palming your cheeks a little too long than they should. His hands traveled back to your entrance and you moaned under his slight touch.

“What? Never played with yourself?”, he added that surely turning the cogs in your head. You pushed him onto the bed, sitting on him struggling to take his cock in and he was not even helping. All he did was watch you let out whimpers of frustration as you lazily glided on his cock. He rested himself on his elbows saying, “Look at me.” And as you did, his fingers dig into your plush ass cheeks slowly adjusting you at a proper angle and stretching you. You kissed him so break the eye contact that made you feel naked, even though you were. Both of you jolted as you could feel his cock inside you.

His hands clamped around your waist as you bobbed on him, with greater force and broader strokes but slow. With each sloppy hit you felt his cock twitch inside you; your hands desperately roamed all over your body, heat bubbling as you could feel your body tensing, picking up the pace he was setting you in, and the orgasm lurking underneath. You can tell; a few more strokes and you would cum so easily.

He can feel it too. Xavier winced as he felt you clenching around his cock. His legs folded to support your back while your hands flew to his shoulder blades, his knuckles turning white, his grip growing stronger around your waist and you came right away, back arching and your wings flapping open involuntarily, eyes rolling white relishing the high as your thighs squeezed in.

With your breathing rash and heavy, you felt all mushy in the head and so was he. Xavier could have sworn that he has not seen anything more beautiful than this, than you sitting on him with his cock buried inside you; your skin glistening in sweat with your gorgeous wings at the display.

As soon as Xavier’s breath relaxed a bit he pulled you into his embrace for a kiss. He could not help it, you were too beautiful to look at. Besides, he was not done, not yet.

—

by @blueparadis

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