#second watercolor attempt :)

[1very1fancy1doilies1]

the latest victim (or beneficiary?) of my watercolor fixation - Jesper Fahey! I painted him for a friend's birthday :)

[glacier-shrimp]

In case you're wondering why I haven't posted art for ~3 weeks... Yeah, this would be why lol. (That and new job!) I really love how these came out though!!

[elizmanderson]

I call this one "the brain rot continues"

[insomniamamma]

[wilowby]

Somewhere beyond the sea

Ref: https://pin.it/46suYD70i

[thilsiktonix]

haven't posted much lately, so here's some more recent art!

medium : watercolor

medium : alcohol marker on stone paper

[galaxybrain01111]

August Rise Challange

Day 16: April O Neil

This is my second attempt at the prompt. I like the background and color of this one much better.

The pose gave me some trouble but I figured it out.

I like the inks better than the final piece , especially in the face and expression.

The inked piece is under this line.

[sunny44]

Bye bye binky!!

Pairing: Lando Norris x Mom!Fem! Reader

Warnings: none I guess and English is not my first language

Summary: You and Lando are trying to get rid of your daughter’s binky.

The Norris household was in constant motion as always. Lyla, at two years old, was a curious and energetic child, always running from one side to the other, dragging her toys and, of course, her inseparable pacifier.

For Lando and me, the mission to get her to stop using the pacifier was becoming a saga.

Lando was sitting at the kitchen table, looking pensively at a list of methods we had thought of.

“What else can we try? It seems like we’ve done everything.”

I stopped washing the dishes and sighed, looking at him.

“I think we’ve tried all the possible advice. Let’s review?” Lando picked up the list and started reading.

“First, we tried the pacifier fairy approach.”

The Pacifier Fairy

One quiet night, Lyla was getting ready for bed. I sat next to her with a storybook.

“Lyla, did you know there’s a pacifier fairy?” I said excitedly as she looked at me curiously.

“A pacifier fairy?”

“Yes,” I replied. “She visits big boys and girls and takes their pacifiers to babies who need them. In return, she leaves a special gift.”

Lyla’s eyes sparkled. “A gift?”

“That’s right. How about leaving your pacifier under the pillow tonight?”

Lyla hesitated but ended up placing the pacifier under the pillow. The next morning, she found a small new toy in place of the pacifier, but the magic didn’t last. When night came, Lyla cried for the pacifier, and Lando and I ended up giving it back to her.

The Reward Calendar

The second attempt involved a colorful calendar on the fridge. Each day Lyla went without the pacifier, she would get a star sticker. After a week, she would get a big prize.

“Lyla, look how many stars you’ve already earned!” Lando said, pointing to the calendar.

Lyla smiled proudly.

“Wow, and o get a prize?”

“Yes, if you keep it up!” I replied, excited.

But halfway through the week, Lyla had a crying fit so intense that we had to give in again, giving her the pacifier.

The Substitution

Trying a new method, we decided to buy several toys and stuffed animals to offer as new comfort items for her.

“Look, Lyla, a new teddy bear!” I said, showing the brown teddy bear.

Lyla took the teddy bear but quickly dropped it and went back to the pacifier.

“I want my binky, Mommy.”

We tried various different toys, but nothing seemed to offer the same comfort as the pacifier for Lyla.

The Gradual Approach

We decided to adopt a gradual approach.

“Let’s limit the use of the pacifier to just bedtime,” suggested Lando.

“Good idea,” I agreed. “That way, she can get used to it slowly.”

During the day, we put the pacifier away and distracted Lyla with games and activities. However, each night, the separation was met with tears and whining. Once again, we found ourselves giving the pacifier to calm her down.

The Distraction Tactic

The last attempt involved constant distractions. Whenever Lyla asked for the pacifier, we offered some fun activity.

“Let’s paint a picture, Lyla?” I suggested, holding a set of watercolors.

For a while, this worked, but Lyla soon began to insist on the pacifier, even in the middle of activities.

Lando sighed as he finished reading the list.

“None of this worked.”

I approached him, placing my hand on Lando’s shoulder.

“I think it’s time to try something new. Something that will really make Lyla want to say goodbye to the pacifier on her own.”

And that’s how we came up with the balloon idea. The hope was that by turning the farewell into a celebration, Lyla would better accept the change. With a final sigh of determination, Lando and I prepared for the final attempt.

“Tomorrow morning I’ll go out to buy donuts for breakfast, which she loves, and the balloon. Then we’ll do it,” Lando said, and I agreed, finishing organizing the kitchen so we could go to bed.

…

The morning sun lit up our house, and the day was perfect for a celebration. Lando and I were sitting on the floor, surrounded by toys and building blocks. Lyla was beside us, firmly holding her pacifier. We had already planned everything. I arranged the donuts on a tray so that when she let go and the pacifier was gone, she would have something she loved to eat and perhaps help her forget.

“Lyla, look!” Lando said, kneeling beside our daughter. “How about we send your binky to the sky? So it can travel around and see new places.”

Lyla looked at the balloon and then at the pacifier, holding it even tighter.

“Daddy, I like my binky.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Lando replied softly, stroking Lyla’s hair. “But you’re a big girl now. And big girls don’t need a binky, right? Besides, it’ll be so much fun to watch the balloon fly!”

Lyla hesitated, but the idea of seeing the balloon rise seemed interesting. Finally, she let go of the pacifier and allowed Lando to tie it to the balloon. Lando handed the balloon to Lyla and smiled.

“Ready to let go, Lyla?” Lyla held the balloon with both hands, her eyes fixed on it.

“Ready.”

With one last look of hesitation, she let go of the balloon. We watched as it slowly rose higher and higher into the blue sky. For a moment, everything seemed fine, but then Lyla looked like she was about to cry—we could see her lips trembling. But then Lando and I started jumping and shouting with joy.

“Woohoo! Bye-bye, binky!” shouted Lando, raising his arms.

“You did it, Lyla! How amazing!” I shouted, clapping.

Lyla looked at her parents, surprised by their reaction. Slowly, a smile began to form on her face. She stood up and started jumping too, imitating her parents.

“Woohoo! Bye-bye, binky!” she repeated, laughing.

We continued to jump and laugh together, our joy spreading to Lyla. Gradually, she forgot about the pacifier and focused on the fun of the moment.

After a few minutes, we stopped to catch our breath, still laughing. Lando picked Lyla up and hugged her.

“I’m so proud of you, Lyla. You are very brave.” I joined the hug, kissing Lyla’s forehead.

“You did something amazing today, sweetheart. We are very happy.”

Lyla smiled, feeling proud.

“Does this mean I’m a big girl now?”

“Yes, you are,” Lando agreed, stroking her head.

After a few minutes, we went inside to eat the donuts and celebrate that we had finally said goodbye to the pacifier.

Bonus scene!

Landonorris instagram stories

“Bye Bye Lyla’s binky”

[vampiricgf]

— ୨୧₊˚ MILKTEETH

older leon x f!reader

wc: 4k+

mommy kink, age gap, some mdlb if you squint, pet names (baby, honey, good boy, ect), blowjob, ball fondling, spit, cum eating (swallowing), tit sucking, lactation mention, oral (f receiving), fingering, face fucking, clit kissing, ass eating, anal, spit as lube, mating press, creampie, cockwarming

sorry wrote this with my clit not my brain <3 also not edited pretend you don't see any mistakes

Sunlight shoots through the slats of your blinds, turning your lids into a flash of red film before they crack apart, a miniature earthquake as the seams split, shapes come into sharper relief, awareness spreading through your body. In tandem comes the animalistic recognition of a second source of warmth beside you, one you inch backwards towards in an attempt to retreat from the brutish light of day, back into the blissfulness of unconsciousness.

He came home last night. Recollection makes a lazy smile spread across your lips as you relax fully into his chest. Arms, thick and chorded with muscle wind around you, a particularly firm exhale against the shell of your ear makes you twitch in his hold, a ticklish reflex. You’re not sure where he’s been but it hardly matters, not when you can convince yourself this bed and the two of you are all that exists in the world. One perfect, fragile moment cupped delicately in your palms. 

A giggle, hoarse and breathy, tugged from your chest as lips meet the skin of your neck in a flurry of affection. With eyes closed you allow yourself to embrace the feeling, swearing after so long untouched you can even feel the ridges of his fingerprints as one hand creeps up underneath the t shirt you wore to bed. 

It’s nearly feline, the way you preen against the touch as one of his hands envelopes your breast, thick fingers massaging the soft skin as his thumb pays particular attention to your nipple. The stimulation feels raw, primal, as you balance on the edge of wakefulness. Coupled with the fat, lazy licks of his tongue against your throat your hips move of their own accord, seeking that familiar firmness pressing against your ass. Satisfaction, thick and gooey as taffy melting to a sidewalk in summer sun, creeps through your head and slides sweet as honey down the back of your throat. Vaguely you register his harsh breathing behind you, the way it no longer tickles against your ear as his own movements pick up, a steady pushing of his erection against the plushness of your body. 

You don’t need to rely on vision, choosing your tactile senses as you squeeze your eyes shut against a particularly hard squeeze of your breast and you lazily palm him through the material of his sweatpants. It’s not his fault, being so eager, and its cute in its own way. 

“Needy baby,” you coo, voice husky from overnight unuse, as you turn to face him. 

You swear, none of those artists or poets ever knew what the hell they were talking about and how could they have when they didn't get to experience the view you have. All beauty in the world pales against the sight before you, as it does every time. His pink flushed cheeks, the stubble growing out on his face juxtaposed with the adorably shy way he avoids your direct gaze, choosing to bury his head in the pillow with a huffy whine. 

“Don’t be like that,” you coax him, voice so slight it seems more like it came from some omnipotent source. 

Gingerly you card fingers through his bangs, the joints crackling beneath the skin as they grow accustomed to use. It amazes you every time, how his hair is so silken to the touch and the way light reflects off the strands so perfectly, as if he were finely crafted to be the most lovely creature on the planet. 

Slowly your podding works, convincing him to face you with those coquettish watercolor eyes. It makes your teeth ache, as if they've been carving through confectionaries for hours, your tongue running over the backs of them as your eyes roam his face. The strong, angular shapes of his features are starkly contrasted by his demeanor, a perfect balance. 

Gently you shift closer, pressing your lips against his and swallowing the little gasp thats pulled out as your fingers dip into his sweatpants at the same moment. 

“What do you need, hm?” You ask, feigning innocence as your fingers brush up against the swollen head of his cock, teasing him until he can be direct with you. 

With a whimper his hips jerk, clearly trying to get you to take more of him in hand but you dodge the movement effortlessly, keeping your hand just out of reach enough for it to be torturous. You know better than anyone how hard he gets in the morning, sometimes teary eyed from sheer need. Its alright though, all part of caring for him. You let it continue, winding him up by moving in the opposite way of his hips and letting him whimper through bitten lips. Good boys use their words, after all. That was lesson one, hopefully he hasn’t forgotten already. 

“Please, need you so bad,” finally your lovely baby makes use of his voice and you can’t help the warmth that oozes through your core in response, making your thigh muscles flex. 

“What do you need?” 

His lips form a pout and you kiss him again, perfectly chaste little pecks to his cheeks and the tip of his nose as you relent, just a bit, and wrap your hand firmly around the base of his cock. You smirk against his cheek as he groans, breathy and high pitched, at the contact. Such a silly, simple man. Slowly your hand runs upward, feeling him pulse in your hold the closer you get to the tip, and already you know a juicy glob of precum is just waiting to meet the pad of your thumb. 

Sticky warmth, slick and soft, spreads easily as you massage his tip, tugging more and more frantic little noises from deep inside his throat as his hips buck against you recklessly, rhythmless. It makes you giggle, drawing away as you push him back to lie flat and his well muscled thighs easily accommodate your weight as you straddle him. Biting your bottom lip you slowly roll his waistband down, feeling your eyes widen as his cock comes into perfect view. 

A sight you could never get tired of, even if you had eternity stretched out before you to admire him all you liked. Just the right girth to make your mouth water, prominent viens running along the side, and his tip that flushes such a gorgeous shade of red whenever you tease him like this. Pearly beads of more precum decorate it like a crown, but you resist the urge to lean down and smear it with your lips. Instead you meet his eyes, holding him loosely in your grip now, feigning deafness to his cries for you to give him more, more, more. 

“How do we ask?” You tilt your head to the side, roll your neck and then drag your shirt up over your head leaving yourself bare on top of him save for the pair of black panties you wore to bed. 

He gapes at you, crystalline eyes blown wide, chest heaving as his hands flex against your calves, squeezing. You don’t relent, pointedly flicking your eyes from his cock to his face as you wait for the correct answer. 

Sometimes he just needs a gentle reminder. 

“Please mommy,” his adorable pink tongue wets his lips before continuing, “I need you, need you to make me come.” 

You dip down, placing exaggerated kisses on his face once more, pleased as the cat that got the cream. 

“Was that so hard, honey?” 

You don’t give him room to answer, giggling at the way he gasps and jolts as you take him fully in hand now, twisting your wrist as you slide up and down, the slick from his precum making it effortless. With one final kiss, a big mwah sound as you smack your lips against his forehead, you shimmy downward. His reward for using words was preplanned in your head, the moment you saw that glistening tip. 

You’re truly just as bad as he is, always wanting it in your mouth. As your eyes drift shut again you press your lips to the head of his cock this time, earning you a lovely little oh fuck from above. The mess of pre feels like lip gloss against your mouth, the taste of him vaguely salty and musky as your cheeks hollow out, letting the length of him run over your tongue until he was perfectly slotted almost in your esophagus. What little he lacked in girth he more than made up for in length, bringing tears to your eyes as your kept your throat open, tongue pressed flat to the bottom of your mouth as you started moving. 

Up and down. 

His whines mingled with the sound of him choking, presumably on his own spit, as his hands alternated between tugging at your hair and smoothing over it. He’s always so careful to try and stay gentle with you, and you flick your tongue against the meaty folds of his tip in thanks. The sound it draws out of him would make you grin, if only your mouth weren’t stuffed. 

Up and down. 

You let saliva pool around your flat tongue as your pace remains steady, one hand against his thigh, tangling in the coarse hair, as the other cups and massages his balls. Thick and heavy in your hands, just like his cock, and it makes you drool even more thinking about him emptying them down your throat. It doesn’t matter that your jawbone aches, your throat burning, the chill of the spit dripping down your chin. 

Up and-

The only warning you get is his feeling his balls flex in your hands before the next second you’re gagging around his cock, trying to cry out at the feeling of his fingers twining tight against your scalp, pulling on your hair. Tears spring unbidden from your eyes as your nose meets his thatch of darker blonde hair, stinging from how firmly the two collided as he held you still, hips bucking wildly as he fucked your mouth to chase his orgasm. Even as the strain becomes dangerously close to too much you don’t urge him to stop, opting to gently massage your fingers against the flesh of his feverishly warm thighs as if to say it’s okay. And it is, you know how he gets so easily worked up, especially with all your teasing. It's really not his fault, you made him like this.

With a few particularly brutal thrusts against your mouth, you feel it when his whole body stretches to its near breaking point. Every muscle beneath the skin seems to flex simultaneously as his balls pulse in your hand, warmth spilling down your throat faster than you can swallow it, forcing some out of the sides of your lips to join the mess running down your chin.

As he whimpers on his come down your head is finally released from his grip, allowing you to swallow thickly before delicately swiping at your face, licking the mixture of fluids from your fingers as your eyes never leave his face. His skin glimmers with a sheen of sweat, the furrow between his brows has yet to relax as he catches his breath, his smile lines emphasized by the way he's panting.

"M'sorry, so sorry-"

You cut him off with a click of your tongue, the sound makes him wince, anticipating punishment. Truthfully you're far too lazy this morning for any proper punishment, but he can indulge your selfishness.

With a sickly saccharine smile you cradle his face as you lay back on your side facing him, brushing your thumb over his cheekbones and watching as he smiles drowsy and content, nuzzling into your palm.

"Silly boy, it's okay this time I know you needed it." Your voice remains soothing. "But mommy needs something from you, you know."

His gaze goes from gooey warmth to sharp and eager before you can finish speaking. Leons always excelled at being a pleaser, and you're not resistant to using that trait to your advantage in certain circumstances.

"Anything," he rasps, grabbing your wrist and pressing a kiss to your pulse, making your heart jump in your chest like an overexcited baby bird. "You deserve to feel good, too."

"Mmm, you're so sweet to me," you muse, words muffled as his lips find yours, hands guiding you on your back this time.

He gives a little uh-huh and you swallow the noise greedily, sucking on his tongue as he slides it between your lips to catch the aftertaste of himself. Predictably, adorably, his calloused hands begin kneading at your breasts as if he really could simply will them to fill out with what you know he truly wants.

"Go ahead, baby," you whisper, a soft smile painting your face as he kisses down the column of your throat, sucks at the skin covering your clavicle in a way you know will leave you with a brand new necklace in the bruise palette of red and purple. A hum of satisfaction spills from your lips as his mouth ends its wet trail at your breast, swirling his tongue around the peaked nipple, giving a few tender experimental nips with his teeth, wrapping his lips around it and settling into an almost cuddly position.

It's alien in a way; you having such an outwardly hardened man, a man arguably more adult than yourself, so wrapped around your finger that he's suckling at your breast with abandon but it's also sweet in its own way. It's taken quite a while for him to grow to this point of comfort with you, too embarrassed about his own desires before you began slowly picking apart his shell, piece by fragile piece. Really you think that his job, whatever it entails, must demand he behave more like an old Templar knight than a modern man.

A life of constant denial is no life at all, and thankfully he was extremely eager to learn that lesson with you.

"Can I touch you?"

You run your fingers through his hair, a kind of half caress. "Always."

Your whisper is met with another smile, albeit more mischievous than you'd like but you don't question his intentions, rather committing yourself to the incoming sensation. As your head tips back against the pillows you feel his own, calloused and rough, sliding down your tummy before his palm comes to rest against your warm cunt, caressing you through the soaked gusset of your panties.

You hadn't even realized you were so wet, the press of the material against your slicked skin stirs excitement low in your abdomen, muscles flexing miniscule yet tight in anticipation of what his fingers might do. His tongue doesn't halt its ministrations on your chest, as if through willpower he could actually get you to start producing milk. The thought makes you giggle, quickly cut off in a moan as he dips two fingers into your arousal, swirling it around, fingers sliding until he bumps against your clit.

The way your hips jerk doesn't escape him, although he doesn't put his fingers on your clit directly, opting to rub the outline of sticky hearts around it as you dig your fingers through his hair. Your other hand lays against his forearm, not stopping him, merely basking in the attention and the slow, loving movements of his finger as the pulsing ache builds up inside you, thrumming through your veins as if you stuck your finger in an electrical socket.

As he pulls away from your breast with a pop you can't help the pout forming on your face, although he's quick to soothe your dissatisfaction as he nips and licks a searing path down your belly, his breath warm and ticklish as it ghosts over your inner thighs while he settles in between your legs on his stomach.

"Love you so much," you say, unfocused gaze locked on his face as your hips wiggle in front of him.

He responds with a firm bite to your thigh, making you gasp and just as your hips lift off the bed his deft hands are sliding the flimsy material down the swell of your ass and pulling them to your feet, yanking them off as they catch against your foot. Barely a second passes before his mouth is on you, that need to please presented center stage as his tongue parts your messy folds.

One strong arm locks you in place over your abdomen, pressing you down so you don't squirm but you don't have the ability to tell him it isn't necessary not when his tongue zeros in exactly where you need him the most. Leons remarkably in tune with your body, so much so you'd think he was also walking around in it day in and day out, always anticipating your reactions and knowing exactly how to pull them out of you when he wanted.

Your baby also possesses a streak for schadenfreude, preferring to watch while you struggle against coming undone. Each swipe of that wet muscle is intentional, no wasted efforts as he rolls your clit around with his tongue, suckling at it just enough to have your toes curling into the blankets and your calves straining below the skin. Your hand stays firm at the back of his neck, however. A constant reminder, like a mother cat hauling kittens around by the scruff.

"Gonna make you feel so good, mommy," he groans against your pussy and the vibration makes your head feel fuzzy suddenly, like your ears are stuffed with cotton. Those delicious fingers easily slide past the fleshy concave of your entrance, your walls eager and excited to accommodate his intrusion, sucking them in as he curls them, pushing and pulling deeper than your own range of motion can ever achieve.

In and out. In and out. In and out. 

An incessant mantra beating against the fragile walls of your skull, pulsing in time with your heartbeat, rushing as quickly as the blood travelling through your circulatoriy system. Another pass of his tongue, firm and flicked, against your swollen clit drags your back into curvature, like a string pulled taut in his hands. Your mouth is open but no sound leaks from it, your vocal chords feel long since fried, like a smoking piece of singed hair. 

In and out. 

Your lungs inflate; spongey, vein covered sacks expanding to the point of pain as they meet the confines of your ribs. Your body feels like a cage he’s trying to coax some unknown creature from. The prickling of numbness in your thighs spreads, down to your kneecaps as your legs shake against his shoulders. His grip is unrelenting, cruel as the bite of cold steel yet as tender as velvet nuzzled against your cheek. 

In and out. 

Your lips move, yet no sound is formed. You aren’t sure what you’re trying to say, it feels like you lost the ability to form complex speech, maybe you never had it all. Maybe this is all that has ever existed. 

In and-

Staticky streaks of grey and white erupt behind your eyelids, screwed shut as your back arches, your fingers twisted in a white knuckle grip against the rumpled blankets. A silent wail, the body caught in free fall as stars bloom inside your head, the world collapsing in on itself as he never stops sucking, flicking his tongue against your clit like a drum beat marking time as you're flung to the far edges of your consciousness.

As you regain your voice, babbling in broken, breathy hitches he continues lavishing your throbbing clit, movements slowing in the smallest intervals. The pleasure ebbs into pain so rapidly it could give you whiplash, squeezing your thighs around his head in warning.

"Too much, s'too much baby," you pant, slurring, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.

At your plea he does slow down, placing languid kisses against your puffy clit and nuzzling against your thigh, his stubble scratchy and grounding as your chest heaves. In the sunlight you feel like a lazy housecat, all stretched out and boneless, satisfaction rolling off you in waves as the brief flash of overstimulated pain clears.

A smirk crawls over your face as you feel him push your legs up more, rolling you upwards a bit by the hips until your ass is presented to him, legs still splayed while his hands cup and knead your cheeks. With a hum he dips back down, tongue sliding over the ring of muscle, experimentally prodding at your ass with messy slurps. You feel dizzy, incorporeal and weightless as your head rolls to the side, pillow mushing your cheek and hair tickling your nose as you lazily grip the backs of your thighs.

Leon eats ass for his own pleasure, you found that out fairly early. Turns out oral and anal fixations go hand in hand when it comes to him, any part of your body he can put his mouth on, really. You smile to yourself feeling his movements pick up speed, noticing the way he draws one hand away and you know without even looking that he's tugging at himself, your poor baby all leaky and needy again.

He whines against your hole, lapping at you still while you glance down, seeing his starry blue eyes begging you. He's been wonderfully adorable this morning, probably got so pent up while he was away, so you acquiesce.

"Can fuck mommy all you want, been so good to me." The words come out so lackadaisical it even surprises you a bit, but really, how could you say no when he looks like a little puppy begging for a treat?

You wonder, consistently, how he has such good stamina for a man in his forties. Men you'd been with previously always had little to no refractory period, always one selfish round of barely any fun. As his fingers inch inside the tight ring of flesh you sigh, holding your legs a little tighter to your chest you can't help but squeal. Leon couldn't be more different, in every regard.

The build up makes you bite down on your bottom lip, feeling the brief burn of your hole accepting his fingers as he lets strings of spit slide in a glittering rope from his mouth, dripping on your ass and squelching as his fingers drive it inside, over and over. Whines spill from your own mouth, unintelligible cries for him to give you more, give you everything.

Thankfully he doesn't have much patience for playing with you this morning, his own needs clearly driving his actions and you appreciate the selfishness. It means your own can be fed sooner as he takes his cock back in hand, giving you another perfect view of his girth as he slides it between your cheeks, over your soaked pussy, teasing himself just a little more. Before you get impatient he's pushing his pink twinged head against your hole with his thumb, making your mouth gape again feeling it squeeze inside centimeter by centimeter.

With an internal pop he gets past the initial ring, letting the tip sit heavy and thick inside you as you acclimate.

"Fuck, fuck- your ass is so perfect," he says it through gritted teeth as he bottoms out, hands pressing on the backs of your thighs so hard you can feel the pressure in your ribcage and those heavy balls sitting perfectly against you.

Your eyes roll back, drool dribbling from the corner of your mouth as he immediately sets a firm pace, harsh rhythm making your body bounce with each thrust like you're nothing but a ragdoll in his grasp.

The symphony playing in your bedroom is an ode to perversion; the obscene melody of your wheezed moans, the smack of his balls against you, his own barely legible babbling, all of it clashes in an overwhelming din, like cannon fire in your ears the blood rushes hard and fast through your brain as your body is pushed further and further into the mattress.

"Need to cum inside, god please let me cum inside mommy - shit," he's gasping, ragged as a marathon runner, blue eyes blown wide and his jaw slack as he drives into you again, again, again, cock pulsing inside you as you feel thick spurts of gooey warmth filling you up, threatening to squeeze out. Leon collapses on top of you unceremoniously, hips still spasming and grinding as he fucks cum even deeper inside, your hole fluttering and sore from his reckless pace.

Your hands, clammy with sweat, skip against the skin of his back as you rub soothing circles against his shoulders. He feels like he's on fire, a smoldering heap of embers covering you as he gasps against your chest, head buried between your breasts, already mouthing at them as he whimpers.

"It's okay," you coo, shushing him and guiding his wet, needy mouth back to your nipple. His eyes flutter shut, the picture of innocence, as he latches on and suckles at your breast, hips still moving in a faint circular rhythm as he keeps his semi stuffed inside you, the only sounds left in the bedroom being the occasional squelch of cum being pushed back inside your ass and the slurping at your nipple.

The sweat quickly settles balmy against your skin as you continue to absentmindedly stroke his back, his neck, card fingers through his tangled bangs. His spent balls feel comforting as they rest against your ass, the warm heft only adding to the full body coziness of having him on top of you.

Even grown men still have their milk teeth.

[milkteabinniechan]

bath water | hwang hyunjin

part two

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY ☕| m.list

pairing: virgin! hyunjin x afab reader

warnings: oral (f. receiving), some angst, lots of smut, hyunjin is just learning hehe

a/n: this is a continuation of this story. This was a labor of love and I feel personally connected to this so please go easy on me, thank you for reading!

Your phone hadn't buzzed yet. Hadn't rung once. You cleaned your apartment. Twice. You reorganized your closet. You washed your hair. You played loud music. He still hadn't called.

Brrt Brrrrt. Your phone jumped on your desk. Not so gracefully, you leaped to grab it. "Buy one, get one on all hand soap! Now through Sunday." You squeezed your phone in your hand. A goddamn promotion. How evil.

You lay your head on your pillow, slaying arms out wide. Your eyes blur and unfocused, making shapes in the ceiling. You let your eyelids close. Suddenly you were back in that bathtub. Hyunjin's fingers appearing in and out of focus. You could hear the water, you could smell his cologne.

Brrt. Brrrrt. Now you were imagining things. Pretending your phone was ringing. You really were losing it. You glance down at your closed fist, phone inside. The light shone through your fingers. A cute picture of a ferret peeking through, Hyunjin’s contact photo. You shot up from your bed. This was real. 

“Hey…” his voice was low.

“Hey, you…” Your voice was shaking, “what’s up?” attempting to sound casual, you hoped it was convincing enough.

“Not much, just bought some new watercolors, some brushes. They’ve got this great sale going on at…”

Hyunjin continued talking about his day. His voice was chipper, like nothing had happened. He sounded warm, so warm. You clutched your shirt. 

“...what about you?” his voice back in your head. 

“Oh! Not a lot. Just some spring cleaning, ya know.”

Hyunjin paused. “You hate cleaning.” He huffed. You could hear the smirk in his voice. 

The conversation continued like that for a while. A few pleasantries, a few inside jokes. He made you giggle, so hard you would snort, making him laugh too. After a long fit of laughing and funny voices, there was a silence between you. You both sat in it for a moment.

“So…” Hyunjin cleared his throat, “I wanted to ask you something.”

You clutched your shirt again. 

“Do you think I could… paint you again?”

Days later you found yourself at Hyunjin’s apartment again. New plastic sheets on the floor. Neither of you had discussed what happened last time. He just asked to paint. That is all he wanted. You stared down at the plastic. Then up at Hyunjin, taking a deep breath.

“Where do you want me?” you spoke in a clear, confident voice, hands on your hips. A power pose. However, you felt like feathers and cotton candy on the inside, so fragile. 

Hyunjin pulled up some photos on his phone of women with painted stomachs. Beautiful works of art sprawled across skin. Your stomach flipped. Your mouth dried up. 

“Is this okay?” Hyunjin lowered his phone and met his eyes with yours. He had an intensity that shot through you like a bullet. All your feathers and cotton candy would melt away if he stared at you like that for even one more second.

“Of course.” You clasped the hem of your shirt and began to pull up. You expected Hyunjin to turn away, like last time. But he didn’t. He stood right there in front of you and watched. He watched your shirt graze past your stomach, past your breasts, up over your head. Your eyes met his as your shirt fell to the floor. One of your bra straps slipped off your shoulder. Hyunjin reached out and grabbed it, pulling the strap back up.

“Let’s get started.” He turned toward his supplies, unwrapping fresh, unused brushes and paints. You nodded your head and lay flat on your back, plastic crinkling underneath you as you adjusted and moved.

The first brush stroke across your lower abdomen felt exactly as you remembered. The cool paint countered your hot skin. You try your best to steady your breathing, letting out small I’m sorry’s every so often. It was different then the first time, however. Now you could see his face. His eyebrows pressing together in concentration, slightly biting his bottom lip, tilting his head to get the best perspective. You felt heat building in your core as his paintbrush traced lower and lower down your stomach. Your thighs clenched together involuntarily. You willed your body to stop. To not give away the awful, dirty thoughts that were going on inside your mind. You heard Hyunjin clear his throat and set his brush down, maybe to grab a different one. You closed your eyes and tightened your mouth into a thin line. You braced yourself for the soft bristles again, only this time there were no soft bristles. There was skin, fingers dipped softly into watercolor. You would know those fingers anywhere. A thumb ran down your outer thigh, a long streak of paint followed along with it. Then an index finger drew another long, thick line down your thigh. You bit your lip hard, so hard you feared it may bleed. You squeezed your eyes together tightly.

Hold it together. He’s just using a different medium. Don’t get off to this.

Unfortunately, your body was not listening to your brain. Your body wasn’t listening to anything except the feeling of Hyunjin’s fingers against your skin. He ran another paint soaked finger from your knee up to your inner thigh, causing your legs to open in response. You bucked your hips slightly at the sensation of Hyunjin being so close to your core.

“Hyunjinnie…” you moaned softly. A wet spot already forming on your panties.

Hyunjin hooked his paint covered fingers around the hem of your panties, coloring them in purples and blues. He lowered them delicately, exposing just the top of your cunt. He lowered his head and kissed gently, but hungerly. Like that first kiss was going to save him, he bowed his head like praying for a holy light and he had finally found it. 

“I want to taste it.” He spoke deep into your clothed cunt. He wanted to enter the gates of heaven, not just paint the Sistine Chapel.

You lifted your hips and helped pull your panties down the rest of the way, the plastic sheets still crinkling beneath you. Hyunjin grabbed both of your legs simultaneously, bringing them to his chest, so your open, wet cunt was exposed and displayed for him. You watched his eyes, and there it was. That concentrated and intense look that left you vulnerable and unable to move.

He kissed your wet core like the way he used a paint brush. His tongue was innocent at first, giving small licks, waiting for you to open up for him like a flower. The muscle moving like music, so very conscious of every reaction that your body gave him. Then you bloomed for him. You pushed your hips into his face sparingly, not wanting to overwhelm him. This was so new, so fresh. The first push of your hips jarred him slightly, his eyes met yours from between your legs. You could see his smirk again from under your thighs. He drove his face further into you, making you arch your back, the plastic sheet slipping from under your elbows. 

Hyunjin let his eyes roll back as his tongue continued its holy work. Lapping and licking every inch of you. Your lips now swollen at the marvel of his mouth.Your hips were thrusting at a faster speed now, climbing toward your own release. 

“Come inside my mouth.” Hyunjin muffled from inside of you. His breath was hot with each word.

Both of your bodies wet from sweat, you carded your fingers through Hyunjin’s hair and gripped tightly, giving yourself leverage and momentum to ride his tongue harder. The paint on your stomach still wet, dripping down onto the floor. Grinding, grinding, grinding into Hyunjin’s open mouth, you could feel the tense bundle of nerves reaching their climax, you were starting to see stars, you were no longer on this earth, in this solar system, you were something entirely new. 

Your climax held there in the air for a moment. Like you were both floating, just inches off the ground. Paint had spilled everywhere. Hyunijn lifted his head back up, panting and out of breath. Saliva fell from his open mouth, dripping down his swollen lips and chin. He smiles wildly.

“So…” you huffed in between panting breaths, “anywhere else you want to paint me?”

[lina-studen]

I, in fact, did ruin my first watercolor attempt so here's the second, decided to stick with markers and pencils as usual.

"there is a willow grows aslant a brook,

that shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream"...

[asian-hero]

Drunken Confessions

Alhaitham/Reader

It's hard to deny your feelings for the Acting Grand Sage and dear friend when your drunken self speaks them so earnestly. It's a shame you can't seem to recall them.

a/n: i have such brainrot for this man it's not even funny anymore

wc: 3.1k

The first thing you awoke to was the harsh light of the morning sun streaming through the curtains. Groaning, you moved an arm across your face, covering your eyes in an attempt to block the offending light from view. 

The second thing you noticed, however, was the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting into the space. It was an alarming scent, considering you lived by yourself and never gave anyone a spare key. Shooting up, you blindly reached around, looking for something to defend yourself with. Though, your momentary panic was short-lived, as a familiar laugh cut through the air, the sound drawing closer with each second.

“So you’re finally awake,” Alhaitham mused, sitting on the edge of the bed, holding out the cup of coffee for you, “Are you feeling alright?”

Relaxing, you let out another tired groan, taking the warm cup from his hands. “I feel like I’ve been thrown off a twenty-foot cliff,”

“That’s a bit dramatic,” He chided, though a hint of laughter could be heard in his tone, his hand resting on your knee, “Considering the only painful experience you had last night was trying to out-drink Kaveh,”

Taking a long sip, you felt your eyebrows furrowing, trying your best to remember the night before. Bits and pieces came to you, with Alhaitham’s anecdote filling in some of the picture. All you could remember was Kaveh asking if you were available, citing some issues with a current client of his and wanting to drink his sorrows. Besides that, you couldn’t remember any other details, including how you found yourself in your current predicament.

Hesitantly, you set the coffee cup on the nightstand, taking in your surroundings. Large piles of heavy tomes and small, eclectic Aranara statues seemed to stare back at you. The comforter beneath your fingers felt soft to the touch, the olive green hue matching the rest of the house. It was also surprisingly heavier than you thought it’d be, its weight soothing your worries and inviting you to fall back into slumber. You felt Alhaitham’s thumb gently caress your covered knee, drawing your attention back to reality.

Looking back at the man in front of you, you felt your cheeks begin to heat up. It appeared that he’d gotten up earlier than you, all of his usual attire neatly in place, save for his cloak and headphones, both of which were surprisingly nowhere to be seen. In the time you were observing his room, he seemed to shift closer to you, his head tilted slightly as he continued to stare at you in curiosity. His watercolor eyes followed your every move, dipping from the fidgeting of your hands to your own wandering eyes. If you were any more delusional, you would’ve thought his gaze softened at your morning form, as if he were somehow enchanted by your disheveled self.

Subconsciously, you ran a hand through your hair in a poor attempt to tame any unruly pieces before tucking yourself into the weighted blanket, covering yourself as much as you could. “So, you brought me back to your home?”

Though it was an obvious question, he nodded his head, answering you seriously. “I did.”

You nodded your head along, your eyes landing upon a pile of clothes neatly folded on his armchair, looking suspiciously like the ones you were wearing the previous day. Peering beneath the weighted blanket, you felt your eyes widen in shock and embarrassment as you gazed upon a shirt that was indeed, not yours. 

Your head snapped up, eyes wider than you thought possible. “I—You—Did we?”

At this, Alhaitham’s eyebrows furrowed. “No, I wouldn’t take advantage—” Pausing, the corners of his lips tipped downward, his eyes narrowing as if he were piecing the puzzle together, “Do you not remember anything?”

You winced at his tone, feeling as though you were no better than a child being scolded by their parent. “I’m sorry…I didn’t,” You hesitated, unsure if you should press the topic further, “I didn’t say anything bad, did I?”

For a short while, Alhaitham’s expression became unreadable. While normally he wasn’t easy to read, you were always able to get an idea of how he was feeling; whether or not he was happy and content, if he was irritated or overstimulated. Now, though, you couldn’t even begin to decipher what he was thinking. Before you could question him further, he suddenly stood up from his spot, dusting off imaginary dust from his pants.

“You didn’t say anything important,” He stated, back facing you as he moved to leave, “I have work. Feel free to use the shower, and make sure to wash my shirt before you return it.”

With that, the door to his bedroom closed behind him. If you listened closely, you could hear his footsteps growing further before the front door slammed shut. Though Alhaitham had, rather bluntly, told you that nothing happened, you couldn’t help but feel anxiety gnaw at your stomach, feeling as if you’d missed something important.

Not wanting to take advantage of the man’s hospitality for longer than needed, you quickly hopped into the shower, ignoring the fluttering of your heart as you washed yourself of the night before, and grabbed your clothes from the chair and changed, cringing at the thought of wearing your dirty laundry. Tidying up his bed, you hesitated on whether or not you should leave his shirt behind, before ultimately remembering he’d wanted it cleaned before you returned it. Tucking the aforementioned shirt underneath your arm, you made a break for the front door, not wanting to risk anyone seeing you leave the Acting Grand Sage’s house. 

You would’ve made it too, had it not been for the blonde architect who was at fault for the entire night.

“Archons, Alhaitham, would it kill you to be a little quieter—” Kaveh complained, looking equally as disheveled, pausing as soon as his eyes landed on you.

For a few seconds, the two of you were in a standoff, both of you processing what was happening. Kaveh seemed to grasp the situation first, letting out an ugly snort.

“What’s this?” He started, an eyebrow arching playfully, “Bedding the Grand Sage? What, did he promise he’d approve your research proposal?”

You pointed an accusatory finger at him, eyes narrowing. “Do not start with me, Kaveh.”

Your warning did nothing to dissuade the architect, in fact, they only seemed to embolden him. Smirking, he sighed dramatically, placing a hand on his chest for added effect. “Oh dear, you know I’m teasing. I know you’d sleep with him with no ulterior motives, though I can’t fathom why on Teyvat—” Cutting himself off, he frowned, peering around for the aforementioned sage, “Wait, where is your loverboy?”

“He left for work,” You sighed, arms crossing protectively across your chest, “And he’s not my ‘loverboy,’ we didn’t even sleep together.”

Kaveh seemed surprised at this revelation, his lips parting in shock before he fixed his expression. Sensing a shift in the atmosphere, he gestured towards the coffee table, beckoning you to join him. Despite wanting to leave as soon as possible, you knew that as soon as Kaveh caught wind of your problems, it would take nothing less than a natural disaster to make him not help you. So, you took a seat, watching as he moved around the kitchen, brewing himself some tea, putting away the second cup when you politely declined. 

As the two of you waited for the water to boil, he turned to face you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What’s going on with you two? You seemed to be okay after your little conversation,”

Your little conversation. So you had said something weird. You groaned, rubbing your temples as you processed everything. “That’s the problem, Kaveh. I can’t remember what I said last night.”

A pause. “Nothing?”

You hummed an affirmative, “When I asked Alhaitham about it, he seemed upset, but I don’t know why, and I can’t apologize for it if I can’t remember what I said.”

At your words, you watched as Kaveh’s expression shifted from one of surprise to one you couldn’t read. For the second time this morning, you found yourself utterly useless at reading others’ emotions.

“You truly can’t remember what you said?”

“I just told you—”

“Think about it,” He started, a hint of exasperated humor tinting his voice, “What could you possibly say last night that would make Alhaitham upset you couldn’t remember?”

“If I knew that I wouldn’t be in this position, you—”

“Think harder.”

When you only continued to look confused, Kaveh sighed, deciding to take pity on you. “Let me rephrase: did you notice anything…different, about him this morning?”

Huffing, you crossed your arms, leaning back in your chair as you thought back to earlier this morning. “I mean, before he left, he seemed, softer? He made sure I was okay but didn’t say much.”

Fingers drifting to your knee, your fingers traced the area where his hand was, heat slowly traveling back to your cheeks. “He was also more touchy?” You pouted, looking back up at the blonde man, “But I don’t see how—”

“Archons you’re dense,” He started, not stopping when you cried out indignantly, “You told him that you love him last night. That’s why he’s upset you can’t remember.”

The two of you were silent, the only sound being the whistling of the kettle, angrily announcing its presence. As if solving a puzzle, bits and pieces of your fragmented night began to replay in your mind, starting from your first drink with Kaveh, to Alhaitham walking in, helping you steady yourself as he led the two of you out of the tavern.

You also remembered how you’d immediately clambered onto the man as soon as you saw him walk into the tavern, a drunken smile plastered on your face as he attempted to steady the two of you, the lightest of blushes crawling up his neck.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asked, before craning his neck to look at his roommate, “What did you do?”

You giggled as Kaveh protested behind you, refusing to accept fault for your current state. Smiling up at the gray-haired man, you leaned forward, resting your chin on his chest. “Don’t be mad, Haitham,” Moving your hands to cup his cheeks, you laughed, “‘S not a good look on you,”

“Oh?” He questioned, letting you manhandle his face as you wished, “I suppose I can’t be mad anymore then, can I?”

“Nope!” You chirped, tugging the corners of his lips into a lopsided smile, “Too pretty to be mad. Should smile more,”

As you trailed off, Alhaitham felt you slipping slightly. Gripping you tighter, he attempted to pull you towards the door, “C’mon, it’s time to get you home.”

He expected you to put up more of a fight, but instead, you seemed to melt into his touch, letting yourself be dragged along. “M’okay, thanks Haitham. Love you,”

At your words, he froze, his eyes snapping back to your figure. Taking his silence as disbelief, you pouted, pulling away from his grip slightly to face him. 

“S’not nice. I said ‘love you,’” You reiterated, swaying slightly, “Say it back, asshole.”

When he still hadn’t said anything, your frown deepened. Pointing at him, your finger waving in his face. “You don’t believe me? Fine, I’ll shout it to the whole world—” Turning to face the rest of the tavern, you began to shout, “Hey! I’m in love with—!”

A calloused hand came to cover your mouth, and you felt Alhaitham’s strong arm wrap around your waist, tugging you toward the entrance. “Alright, I get it. Let’s go, we’ll talk about this later.”

Though his words were blunt, you noticed that his face was bright red, and there was a smile he couldn’t quite mask in time.

The scraping of a chair against wood floors caused you to snap back to reality. Lifting your head, you watched as a smug smirk began to overtake the architect’s face, though he tried to hide it with his cup of tea.

“Well?” He asked, setting his cup down as he watched you go through all five stages of grief in mere minutes, “Remember now? I’m sure everyone at Lambad’s remembers if you don’t.”

“I told him—”

“Yes.”

“In front of—?”

“Unfortunately,” Kaveh sympathized, though it was short-lived, “It was rather entertaining, though.”

“And he,” You started, voice faltering as you came to your next realization, “He feels the same way?”

The look Kaveh gave you was a mix between relief that you finally came to that conclusion, and disbelief that it took you that long to realize the younger man’s affections. Though, he supposed, it was better late than never for you to realize it.

Grabbing your hands in his own, Kaveh looked you in the eye, exasperation clear in his posture. “My dear, he’s felt the same way about you for a long time, and if I have to watch the two of you pine over each other for another minute I think I’ll snap.”

Looking at your intertwined hands, you squeezed his before dropping them, rising from your seat. “I need to go.”

You barely heard Kaveh wishing you luck before you let the door shut behind you, your legs taking you to the Akademiya as fast as they could. It was almost as if you were on autopilot for the entire way there, as you weren’t entirely sure how you’d managed to secure yourself access to the Acting Grand Sage without a prior meeting appointment. Though, if you were to guess based on the information you’d recently been enlightened to, you figured that Alhaitham had told the Akademiya staff that there was a list of certain people he’d allow into his office at any time, and you were most likely one of them.

You continued to go through the motions until you found yourself standing before the doors of Alhaitham’s office. Hesitantly, you knocked on the door, waiting for his answer.

“Come in.”

Taking a steadying breath, you pushed the doors open, peeking in only to find Alhaitham leaning back in his chair, his eyes scanning the document in his hand. You couldn’t help but stare, watching as his fingers tapped against his desk, seemingly subconsciously. 

A loud sigh snapped you out of your daydreaming, the fingers tapping against the desk becoming more rapid. “If you have more proposals, just set them on the table and leave.”

“Oh,” You started, realizing that you hadn’t planned out what you wanted to say, “Sorry, I’m afraid I don’t have any proposals for you to review, but I do have some information from last night that you might like to hear,”

At the sound of your voice, Alhaitham’s eyes moved from the document, widening a fraction once they met yours. Slowly, he set down the papers, his arms crossing against his chest. 

“I thought I told you that you didn’t—”

“I remember what I said last night.”

For the second time today, you’d managed to render Alhaitham speechless. Before he could come back with any sort of remark, you cleared your throat, shifting your weight. “I would just like to inform you that I am still very much in love with you, and hopefully it’s more believable now that I’m no longer ‘under the influence,’”

For what seemed like an eternity, the two of you were silent. You began to fidget with your hands; the tension in the office felt suffocating, and it didn’t help that Alhaitham just continued to stare at you, as if he were dissecting you, trying to find the truth within your words. Eventually, as anxiety continued to shred up your insides, you heard the sound of a chair being pushed back, and footsteps drawing closer to you. Long, elegant fingers wrapped around yours, pulling them apart from each other in order to intertwine them. Thumbs gently rubbed circles into the backs of your hands, similar to how they did this morning.

“You know,” He started, the smallest of pouts gracing his lips, “That was quite rude of you, to confess while under the influence and then not even remember the next morning.”

You laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. “Well, it’s rude of you to not even give me an answer. I laid out my love for you in front of everyone last night, and you didn’t even say it back!”

He hummed, the ghost of a smile lighting his eyes. “I suppose I was rude, wasn’t I?” Leaning closer, he reveled in the way you froze up, tensing underneath his touch, “I should make it up to you, right?”

Moving his hands to caress your cheeks, he smiled, unabashed and unrestrained. “I am unequivocally and irreversibly in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for ages, and I’m so thankful that you’ve finally decided to open your eyes and see it.”

When you continued to stare at him in awe, he laughed, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. He waited patiently for you to come back down, his hands trailing down to hold your waist.

Once you finally regained your ability to speak, you said the first thing on your mind. “I didn’t wash your shirt.”

You heard an unelegant snort come from the man in front of you, turning his head to the side in an attempt to hide his mirth. “I noticed.”

You nodded your head, humming as if you were lost in thought. “I love you too, by the way.”

“I figured,” He drawled, squeezing your waist teasingly, “Otherwise you wouldn’t barge into my office without notice.”

“Oh, so I’m that predictable, huh?” You challenged, eyes narrowing playfully.

“Habibti,” He tested, enjoying the way your face heated up, “I’ve been in love with you for so long, there’s almost nothing about you that I can’t predict.”

“Oh really?”

Before he could make a snide remark, you cupped his cheeks, surging forward to press a kiss to his lips. You could feel Alhaitham stiffen against you, before melting into your embrace, his hands moving to card through your hair. His lips were soft and warm against your own, allowing you to take control. You could feel his breath tickle the skin beneath your nose, and you eventually had to pull away, giggling at the way Alhaitham’s lips chased you. 

You pressed a quick kiss to this cheek, enjoying the slightly dazed look in his eyes. “I bet you didn’t see that one coming, did you?”

At this, he laughed along, pulling you closer to him. Dipping his head for another kiss, he smiled against your lips.

“I can’t say that I did.”

everyone say 'thank you kaveh' bc these fools certainly won't </3

[cute-ellyna]

Prescious, teenage Clive Rosfield / Watercolor study

I'm finally done with FF7R2, so I can concentrate on my watercolors, yay!! :3

Here's the second attempt... I like some part of how this turned out but I'm not as happy as I was with baby Jill: for some super odd reason males and darker colors are more difficult to render for me (the hair was a real nightmare). I definitely don't feel ready for grown-up Clive T_T

....

Reference shot from the super kind and talented @ nyanyabluecat on Twitter, many thanks for the permission to use it! <3

[idrawprettyboys]

My second painting of Data is complete! I'm not quite as fond of this one as the first one. I think the fact that I did it on hot press paper has something to do with it. This may be my first time using hot press, but I could be forgetting a previous attempt. I hope you guys like it though! As before, here's a video so you can see it sparkle under the light!

Tools: Paul Rubens hot press cotton watercolor paper 7.6 x 5.3 inch, Pentel Click 0.7 pencil, Pentel hi-polymer eraser, Sakura Pigma Micron 01 pen, Aquash watercolor brush, Mei Liang watercolor paints, Sakura Koi metallic watercolor paints, Epson Perfection 4490 scanner.

If you wish to support my art career, please subscribe to my Patreon or commission me!

[estrangedandwayward]

Woo first (successful) watercolor portrait

Sketch and a little back story under the cut

So I've got a project I want to do involving drawing aegon, so I wanted to practice with a couple of standard portraits because I realized though I've probably done at least in the low hundreds of portraits with charcoal, And a few with colored pencil or marker, but I've never actually painted one. Most of my art is still of people, but usually full bodies and very small so I don't really have to worry about facial details all that much. Anyway, I tried last night to paint aegon

It started off well, I liked the sketch a lot (even the nose looks good), the line art was fine (I even gave him an earring because I saw that Tom glynn carney has one irl) but oh god it went badly fast, the shadows were too dark, I brought in the green way too soon so the whole thing had a weird undertone, the expression looked weird, I was getting impatient so the colors were smudging together. I tried to fix it with a little bit of gouache and that made it SO MUCH WORSE

He looks insane hungover. His eyebags (which i considered key in capturing his 'ive been drunk for the last 23 hours' essense) we making him look 50 years older than he was supposed to. I just decided to scrap it, didn't even peel the tape off, didn't bother doing cross hatching on top and went to bed. I decided to give it another shot tonight and I'm very happy that I did because I LOVE how the second attempt came out. It was also honestly pretty fun to paint, kinda wanna do more, haven't done portraits in a while so it might be fun to get back into it. I'd love to do one in my more impressionist-y style or one fully with gouache or with weird or interesting color pallettes idk

Point is, glad I didn't give up because now I have one more painting that I like

[inkorganic]

The Way Things Are

Summary

Featuring: Tomura Shigaraki x female reader cw: 18+ minors do not interact, smut, unprotected sex, reader has a quirk, messy, loss of virginity Word count: 4.5 k AO3

∘₊✧─────────────✧₊∘

The days unfolded more as they passed. Blending like watercolors, transforming into a jumble of warm mornings, hazy afternoons, and cold nights A month passed, and it was hard to believe; however, the calendar on your phone couldn’t be lying, or maybe it could. After all, you didn’t have a recollection of ever using your quirk in this exhausting way.

Maybe it could mess with the internal clocks of phones too. Concealing your presence was an easy job—a hum that surrounded your life, making you almost indestructible and undetectable.

A cozy blanket that kept you safe well into your early adulthood Concealing others was a different story, though, having to synchronize with their heartbeats and breaths. The unwelcome familiarity of discovering the patterns of the league. You were the newest member; a few weeks didn’t make a significant difference, but facts are facts.

They already had a well-established dynamic; it’s not that they didn’t attempt to incorporate you. Making friends was simply not on your list of reasons for joining this organization in the first place. Allies were required to accomplish your end goal; the plan was to keep them safe with your quirk, and they would assist you in exacting your revenge.

You have to stay inside the tiny cabin. No , you thought this was hardly a cabin. It’s a shed not meant for staying for more than a night or to be used as temporary shelter, but the times were rough and the money was cut off many weeks ago. Getting used to the pungent smell of rotting wood was still an active project.

The wood panels that acted as walls provided minimal protection from the weather; if it rained, you knew because the water formed poodles on the already-molding hardwood flooring.

This was better than staying outside , you told yourself as you checked your ratty sleeping bag for ticks and other unwanted companions. Getting a bug bite-transmitted disease would be the cherry on top of this disadvantageous situation.

That night, it was only you and Tomura in the room; the other members decided to flee for liberty. The only night the leader decided to take a real break and not only a few hours to rest

Even Spinner excused himself; you didn’t have anywhere else to go, and your head pounded painfully behind your eyes like a second heartbeat with the uninterrupted use of your quirk. You might as well take the chance and turn it off for once.

Being a loner, even in a group of other outcasts, was funny in a way. The night was setting, and soon Tomura would enter the room, nod at you, and ignore you for the rest of the night until the sun rose again.

The only change in the routine was that tonight he would sleep in, which made you nervous. You were used to the others being here, coming and going, murmuring greetings, and asking if suddenly food decided to manifest itself in the pantry.

You didn’t realize you had fallen asleep until the soft noises of Tomura setting his sleeping bag woke you up. You didn’t mean to pry into his nightly routine, but you couldn’t help it. The dim lighting provided by the sad portable light cast shadows on his face, making his dark undereyes more noticeable and deeper. The crazy rhythm he set for himself was starting to wear him down. Suddenly, he looked five years older in the span of a few weeks.

He was down to his t-shirt, but the night was so cold , you thought. Maybe it was your people-pleasing personality or the fact that you wanted to talk to someone about anything. You left the warm cocoon of your sleeping bag to go look into your things for a spare hoodie, sweater, or anything warm.

He lifted his eyes and did the usual thing he did: he nodded at you, and you nodded back in silent acknowledgment. This time, though, you offered him a hoodie.

“It’s cold” You haven’t used your voice in hours, so it came like a hoarse whisper. His gaze went from your face to the hand offering the garment.

“It doesn’t bother me.”

“Your hands are shaking.” You were talking in whispers, the same tone you would use when talking to a feral cat. “I’ll leave it here.” You crouched slowly. Again, he looked tired and easy to piss off, and he was already easy to provoke when he was in a good mood, so it was better not to poke at him.

“Whatever,” he sighed.

You stayed there a little. Listening to the sounds from outside the walls. Letting your hands grow colder so you can warm them up later inside your sack. Watching your nails turn purple with poor blood circulation and then returning to a healthy pink. Pretending you were on a camping excursion with friends and not on a terrorist mission with people you barely spoke to, your thoughts made you giggle. The absurdity of it all

“What’s so funny?” He sounded more annoyed than tired, so maybe he did want to talk.

“I’ve never been camping.” And with that, you got up and crawled back to your small personal space.

“Me neither,” he said after a long pause.

Just above a whisper from his mouth, it felt like a small win to get him to speak about other things that weren’t his plans for the league or video games. You let the moment go too far; the opportunity to converse was halted. Soon, his steady breathing told you he was asleep. Good for him; you knew he needed the sleep.

You couldn’t make yourself sleep tossing and turning for what you felt were hours. The cold claimed your body, and your breath was visible in front of you in wisps of steam. How much did the temperature drop? It was hard to know for sure, but the bites from the bitter cold were eating your fingers, leaving flushed cheeks, stiff toes, and clattering teeth behind for you to endure.

It never crossed your mind that you could miss having all the members of the league around to provide human heat, but here you were shivering inside a thin sleeping bag in the middle of nowhere.

You wondered if Tomura was doing better, so you tuned in to check on him. To see his half-lidded eyes already staring at you. You noticed he was wearing your hoodie—another win for your small record. No, like you were keeping a record.

“Y/n” He broke the silence, his voice husky and tired.

“Yeah?”

“Can you turn on your quirk?”

You were not expecting that at all. You sat slowly, warming your hands with your breath.

“The buzz sound—I got used to hearing it.”

You could accept his petition, but you could also get something from him—a mutual favor: he wanted the side effect of your quirk, and you wanted a source of heat.

“Sure, but can I move closer to you?” The words left your mouth, and they turned into ribbons wrapping themselves around your neck, too accustomed to never asking for anything from anyone. To want was to desire, and desire was why you ended up as a stray on the edges of society.

“You don’t need to be close.” He replied, stating the knowledge he had of the way your quirk worked. It tasted too much like rejection—the oily, sour aftertaste setting in the back of your throat.

“That is true.” You shrugged, letting your quirk wrap around him. His heartbeat joined the sounds inside your head, along with the palpitation of your headache. He was upset; probably his pulse was faster than it should be considering he was lying down.

“Is it easier to use if you’re close?”

“No.” You sighed, shaking your head. “I’m cold, that’s all.”

He kept his eyes on you, actually taking notice of your presence for the first time since you joined the league. You wanted to be out of this situation. A wave of stress settled on your shoulders, and the tightness of your chest made it harder to breathe. You didn’t like being noticed; it was easier to be in the background, taking little space.

“I smell!" Tomura snorted, almost chuckling. Almost. It's another win for the record.

“We all do.” You let a chunk of your stress be dissolved by a short laugh. “We all should bathe and soak there for a few hours”.

He chuckled this time. You joined him. It felt delicious. You felt normal for once in a while.

“You can move closer.” He whispered reluctantly, his rapid heartbeat hammering the back of your head. Maybe it was invasive to get a glimpse of a clue to how he felt without disclosing it, but no one asked, and you were not about to go. Hey, just letting you know that I can hear and feel your heartbeats inside my head. Sorry about that.

You rose, your steps muffled by your socks. He was already making space for you. You lay beside him on your side, facing him. The sleeping bag was slightly bigger than yours, but still, your knees were touching, and suddenly you gained awareness of all your limbs and their positions. The way you bent at uncomfortable angles to avoid touching him more than what was inevitably necessary. It was warmer and nicer too, even if you were never going to voice such a thought; your fingers were finally allowed to regain blood flow.

You wanted more. You wanted to take more; the ache for human contact was tingling at your fingertips, so close to another human yet so far. You longed to be the one who takes, not the one who stays empty-handed, and god, you were as empty as you could be; nothing belonged to you.

So in a moment of impulsivity, with his heartbeat driving you insane and his knees touching yours, you decided to press your mouth on his closed lips—a peck. You waited for him to push you away to try and turn you into dust for the audacity of daring to kiss him. But he didn’t; he remained still. A muffled sound coming from his throat was the only acknowledgment you got.

You pushed it more; it was addicting—the heat from his body and the way he tasted the musky smell from him—making you wish you could get inside his clothes. You parted your lips, trying to deepen the kiss. His hands found their way to your upper arms, squeezing them in a fourth-finger grip, not pushing you away, not pulling you in either, just keeping you there. The guilt made you draw back.

Your mind was racing as your stomach tangled into tight knots. But then you saw his face, eyes closed, and brows furrowed together.

“I can’t touch you.” He murmured, his breath tickling your mouth. Letting go of your arms, he set his hands into fists on his sides.

Now his gaze was on your eyes, his pupils engulfing the red of his irises. He wanted to give in to physical pleasure; he never really let himself explore before. His life had always been about controlling decay, and he didn’t particularly like the fact that your quirk could potentially make you immune to his.

He used to indulge in fantasies where he met someone who he could touch and who would not squirm away from him in fear or disgust. Then he met you, gentle-faced and not quite made for a villain’s life but with a useful quirk he was not going to turn down.

He decided later on that not having the power to get rid of you if needed was not something he was fond of, contrary to what he initially thought. Still, he wanted to dig his fingers into the plumpness of your hips, knowing that you would stay whole. He could not afford the distraction though, so keeping you at arm’s length was necessary.

Tomura didn’t imagine you were going to be the one to close the distance he so carefully crafted. Even more so, he would let you effortlessly do it too, giving in so easily to a gentle gesture, a tender kiss, and a kind caress.

“I don’t want to.” He ran his hand through his hair, the pale locks stealing highlights from the faint portable light. “I should not want to.” He spoke to himself, attempting to assure himself that he had no special interest in you.

One of his hands moved to your nape, drawing you closer. He didn’t allow you the chance to flee and hide in your sack; the hand on your neck brought you back to his mouth. This time, he was the one who started it. Too quick, too eager, too hungry—his kiss was clumsy and inexperienced. You bit him softly, trying not to break his chapped lips any further, just enough to make him stop for a second.

He was perplexed.

“I thought you wanted”— I thought you wanted me , left unsaid. He whispered, tilting his head to get a better view of yours. “You kissed me first.”

“I do,” you said, attempting but failing to conceal your hesitation. “I did”

You fell into an awkward silence, peering into one another’s eyes but not daring to break it again.

“Why? He inquired. His glance flew to your lips, then up to your eyes, expecting to find the answer he was seeking.

“I felt like it.” 

That was not what he was expecting, yet again. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to hear; for months, he had prevented his attention from wandering to you and your ridiculous quirk.

He was aware that he was not in love with you. That was not something he believed himself capable of; not even lust was something he frequently indulged in; usually, it concerned physical sensations, the twitch in his lower abdomen, and the slight relaxation that followed. That was a checkbox on the pyramid of needs that humans had to meet.

“Do it again?” He whispered, giving in. He could swear the buzzing of your quirk started to have a rapid heartbeat-like pattern.

The previous uncomfortable silence was preferable to this conversation. The consequences of your actions didn’t make themselves wait; they showed up barely minutes after kissing him.

“Do it again?” You echoed his words with an unsure voice.

“Don’t act like that now. I’m not the one who started this with the excuse of being cold.”

“It was not an excuse; I was cold,” you replied.

“Yeah, well. You certainly aren’t anymore." He trailed off, his gaze fixed on you. A frown formed on his brow.

“Should we talk about it?” You inquired shyly.

“What? Now you want to talk. You never say anything and have never actively participated in our missions! Now suddenly, you’re interested in discussing things? Acting like a damn NPC,” he retorted, his tone laced with skepticism.

“You never complained before.” You mumbled.

Successfully, you annoyed him in record time. He laughed wryly.

“Is this a fucking joke? Is this how you entertain yourself?” He leaned forward, his mouth close to your ear. The breath hitting your skin made you shiver. “You think that because I can’t use my quirk on you, you can just do anything you want to me without consequences?”

“Of course not. Look, I apologize for what I did. I’m leaving” You said to walk away like you often do when things become too difficult to handle. “Let’s pretend it never happened.”

You crawled out of his sleeping bag with all the dignity you could muster, shuddering when your calf accidentally brushed against his forearm. You didn’t get far; well, Tomura didn’t let you get far. He grabbed you by the ankle.

“You don’t get to just walk away from this.” He stated. “Not when we work together every day. And not after you just kissed me out of nowhere.”

The chill from the floor pierced your bare foot as your sock turned to dust. Your quirk buzzed around your body, repelling his.

“You thought you could get away with it? Just do whatever you want to me. It doesn’t work like that.”

“Then what do you want? I offered to talk, and you said no, but you also said no to me, leaving you alone. Yes, I shouldn’t have kissed you, but you kissed me back.” You huffed. “Just let it go.”

You were purposefully ignoring the fact that he did ask you to kiss him again, and you rejected him. It was terrifying to understand that the very first kiss was more than simply impulsiveness; perhaps you wished for a warm body to exchange body heat with, but not anyone you wanted his.

“You shouldn’t play with people’s feelings like that.” He definitely didn’t take it well. He yanked on your ankle, sending pain through your leg and forcing you to step forward. Your hands broke your fall; kicking him instinctively, your foot connected with his shoulder, causing him to hiss.

“What’s the matter with you? You yelled. He had already sat down when you turned your body to face him. “Why do you act like that over something as insignificant as a kiss?”

“It’s not about the kiss,” he said, sighing. Tiredness framed his face, and his skin was as irritated as ever. The faint sounds of nature outside flowed through the room as he sat there. This situation was entirely your own creation.

“Don’t kiss me and then reject me.” He mumbled. You knew that saying that cost him. “That’s cruel”

You gulped, drooling like an animal in captivity who had just been thrown a piece of meat after long weeks of starvation. Slowly, your finger brushed the shoulder that you were pretty sure you’d kicked.

He lifted his gaze, doubt written all over his face.

“So?”

He hesitated to answer. Licking his chapped lips before talking.

“Kiss me or leave.”

The bluntness of his statement left you frozen, but you couldn’t deny the pit of desire ignited in your body. The hand that was on his shoulder moved up to his face, cupping his cheek. His breath hitched, and you launched yourself forward, pressing your mouth to his lips.

Your tongue traced the outline of his scar. Tomura opened his mouth, capturing your tongue and licking it. He didn’t know where to put his hands; maybe you would not decay, but your clothes were another story. He settled for burying his hands in your hair.

Starting to feel lightheaded, you dropped your hand to his chest, not that you needed it to feel his heartbeat. You never retrieved your quirk effect from him; his pulse was hammering rapidly in your head, making you wonder where all that blood was traveling.

He quietly gasped, breaking the kiss. He glanced into your eyes, and that’s when he knew you were into this as much as he was. He kissed you on the neck, his breath caressing your sensitive skin and causing you to jolt when he nibbled the spot where your neck meets your shoulder, forcing a moan out of your mouth.

He stiffened; he could never have thought a little sound like that coming from your mouth could have such an effect on him as electricity rushing down to his groin, feeling himself grow harder. Self-conscious about the possibility of you noticing his erection, he pulled aside a little.

“What?” You muttered.

“Nothing,” he lied.

“Do you want to stop?” You asked.

“No”

“Can I touch you?” Your desire was palpable in your speech.

He nodded. And you ran away with the confirmation. You reached out to touch the rough lines that composed him, and as your hand went to his lap, he quickly wrapped his hand around your wrist, not with any real force.

“We can stop." You started, but he interrupted you.

“I already told you I don’t want to stop,” Tomura snarled. “I just need a moment.”

You chuckled under your breath.

“Why are you acting like a virgin? We are just making out!”

He looked dumbstruck, and his saliva-coated lips parted in an expression you didn’t think he was capable of. He coughed, wiping his face. The realization hit you like a fist to the nose. Of course, he didn’t have any experience in this department. It wasn’t even hard to guess.

You pushed the virgin too far. With a vice grip, he yanked your hair; the pain was registered later on by your nerves when he was already pushing you to the sleeping bag. He pinned your hands above your head, brutally stretching your shoulders, making you trash under him.

His narrowed eyes met yours. His lips were tugged down so deeply that you could see the specks of blood blooming from his chapped lips. Tomura was mad, tired, and aroused.

You inhaled deeply, allowing the air to fill your lungs. Hopefully, the newfound oxygen in your bloodstream could help you find a way out. Suddenly, he let go of your wrists, choosing to nuzzle your neck instead.

“I’m tired,” Tomura mumbled, sounding muffled and defeated.

On the other hand, you were restless. His hair was brushing your cheek, and his breath condensed on the skin of your neck, leaving a moist, warm feeling behind. You ran your hand through his hair; it was softer than you imagined, curling around your fingers.

He sighed, rolling off you to sit beside you, making the old wood flooring crack under him. The cold indignantly filtered through your body again, missing his body heat. Like a moth to a flame, you wrapped your arms around him and turned to bury your face in the crook of his neck. You could get used to his smell and the way his pulse quickens beneath your lips.

“Sorry.” He whispered.

“Just hug me back,” you replied.

He took advantage of the situation by slipping his hands under your sweater. Tomura's hands were warm, which was ironic given the destructive nature of his quirk. No one else was going to love the texture of his fingertips tracing lines on their backs except you.

There was no lust in his touch at the beginning, but that didn’t last long, with his contact growing hungry and desperate. You straddled him, his finger digging into the small of your waist and bringing you closer, encouraging you in. Tomura lifted his head to meet your eyes and opened his mouth, hesitating to speak.

There’s no need to speak, you thought. Kissing the corner of his mouth and licking the dry blood from his lips, the faint coppery taste only served to feed your desire for him. Your arousal would already be coating his lap if it weren't for the thick sweatpants you were wearing. You needed him to stop being so shy.

“Decay my clothes." Your speech was muffled against his mouth, but he heard every syllable, replaying it in his mind over and over.

“You’re insane,” he whispered back.

“Undress me then."

"Huh? I'm not going to strip you." For a split second, you assumed that meant he didn't want to go any further with you. You were gloriously incorrect. He gently pushed you on your back again, this time placing his palm on the back of your head to ensure you would not get hurt. “Not fully. You’re cold, remember?”

“Right” 

A hasty hand slid down your pants, his thumb hooked in the waistband. You arched your back to help him undress you with the combination of his warm hands and the cold room. He mostly kept his word, only setting one leg free from your pants and underwear.

As eager as he was, you battled with the button of his jeans. Pulling it until his erection sprang free, you wish the room were thoughtfully illuminated so you could see all of him. This time, he didn't wrap his hand around your wrist to stop you.

Instead, he sank his finger into the swell of your hip, stealing a gasp from your mouth, encouraging him to touch you more as he pleased. Without losing any more time, you stroke his cock, slowly caressing his flushed tip with your thumb, smearing the precum down his length.

He jerked forward, biting down a whiny moan.

Your mouth was on his neck, kissing and licking him, down to his collarbones, tasting his salty skin. Tomura was on cloud nine; your hand was warm and soft around him, and you were doing this willingly.

“Please Y/n” He was not used to asking for permission; he was raised with the encouragement to take whatever he desired when he wanted. For some reason, he wanted you to give yourself to him without having to force you.

“Let me help you." You whispered Tomura jolted when you guided his cock to your entrance, wrapping your legs around his bony hips. Tomura grabbed you by the waist, burying himself in the inviting wetness of your cunt.

You heard yourself cry out a moan at the sudden stretch. Just like the first kiss, he was sloppy and rhythmless. No, that he cared at that very moment. You felt so good clenching around his cock.

"Tomura." You breathed out his name.

He grabbed your plushy thighs, parting your legs further. He wanted to be inside you so deeply that you would feel like something was missing when he pulled out.

You pulled his hair, sending delicious tingles down his neck. Tomura pressed his mouth to yours forcing his tongue inside your mouth as he  began to set a pace sending waves of pleasure with each thrust

“I want you to cum with me. What should I do?” He asked, panting in a hoarse whisper.

“Touch my clit while you fuck me."

His thumb found the bundle of nerves, and a wave of pleasure invaded your body, making you breathless and gasping for air. You knew he was close when he started to moan in your ear. His hips rocked intensely. Tomura felt his abdomen clenching, and he gave in to your grip. The world stopped for a moment, and it was only him and you. Putting your hand behind his nape, you draw him closer, kissing him while you reach your peak.

Tomura plopped on top of you, still to the hilt inside you. The spasms, remnants of your orgasm, emptying him further inside you. Kissing your sweaty temple, he rolled off you.

You didn’t want to think you’d regret this so soon after it was over, occupying your mind with cleaning the mess before it dried in a sticky nightmare instead. You used your remaining sock to clean his cum that slid down your thighs.

After you fixed your clothes, you turned to see Tomura, who was already sleeping on his side, giving his back to you. Odd. Well, he did say he was tired. In one of many kind gestures, he wasn’t sure he hated or loved; you fixed his clothes by pulling his jeans back on.

He looked content with his usual scowl, relaxing to a neutral expression. Finally, you settled for letting him sleep alone in his sleeping bag; eventually, you’d have to talk with him; he owed you a pair of socks after all.

When you were seeking a shield from the cold in your sleeping bag, exhaustion had already claimed your body. You were drifting to dreamless sleep.

You will regret this.

∘₊✧─────────────✧₊∘

Chap 2.