#art donaldson discovering that he has an exhibitionism kink

[jesuistrestriste]

thinking about art student!reader who has to practice drawing human anatomy/physical form so they ask art to model for them !

and art’s okay with the idea of it; he thinks he’s just gonna sit on your couch—watching tv—while you sketch him for an hour or so.

but then he’s suddenly sitting on a stool in the middle of your living room, and he’s being told that he has to be naked.

it’s nude modeling. and god, he feels so fucking stupid!

his whole face and neck burn bright with embarrassment, and he desperately wants to back out, but he’s already at your place and he really, really doesn’t want to let you down now:(

so he strips. shirt comes off first, then his shorts, and his socks, and.. then his boxers. he swears his hands are shaking as he finally pushes them down to his ankles and then kicks them off.

you make him nervous enough as is, so this is basically his worst nightmare. situating himself on the stool while he cups (shields) his parts in his palms, unable to shake the lingering nerves and self consciousness.

he certainly hasn’t shaken them off nearly enough to feel comfortable exposing himself fully, he knows that’s for sure.

but you see it on his face, and like the great friend you are, you walk up and smile softly. you shake your head. “you seriously don’t have to do this.”

ugh, your stupid pretty smile gets his heart racing faster than ever. and weirdly sends a shudder of heat down into his gut. it swirls around in his body and causes him to swallow thickly before he’s abruptly having to shift his hands to accommodate the.. growth that’s happening..

“i.. no, it’s—like, i’m fine, i’m just a little…” he pauses, his words getting stuck in his throat as he swallows again and looks into your eyes.

“i got you,” you say gently with a chuckle, “it’s not weird on my end. i’m not gonna objectify you, it’s for school, yeah?”

and he nods, and he watches you walk back to your chair several feet in front of his, and then he’s easing one hand away. and the other comes off soon after. he grips the sides of the seat he’s on, completely white-knuckled.

the look on your face that you’re barely able to stifle, the lift of your brows and the lowering of your gaze, is all art needs to see before he realizes what you’re staring at.

he’s got a very obvious boner..

and you’re about to draw it.